The sound of their feet striking the broken jade echoed like war drums.

CLANG—CLAAAANG—BOOOOM!

Blade and palm collided again and again, each impact a thunderclap that rattled the very illusions projected by the Mirror Jade Arena. The rivers shattered, reforming as mountains, then as skies swirling with stars. The illusions could not keep up with their power, fracturing and reweaving into visions of chaos.

Lu Cheng's blade danced like a silver dragon, arcs of qi extending its reach until every swing seemed to carve through heaven itself. Each strike carried weight enough to split boulders, speed enough to shred the air into ribbons.

Tian Lei moved differently. He did not resist each strike head-on but flowed between them—redirecting, brushing aside, twisting his body so the overwhelming force slid past him by hairs' breadths. His soul sense painted every motion in advance, yet even so, his body screamed with the strain of keeping pace. Every step cracked the jade beneath his soles; every parry left his arms buzzing, bones rattling from the force.

"Marvelous!" a disciple shouted, voice hoarse."Senior Brother Lu Cheng's River-Cutting Sword Style—he's pushing it to its limits!""No—look! That boy… he's adapting with every exchange!"

Indeed, Tian Lei's counters grew sharper, his footwork more refined. At first, he was simply surviving, but now—each redirect turned into a ripple of counter-force, nudging Lu Cheng's blade wider, slower.

Lu Cheng narrowed his eyes. "You dare mold yourself against me in the middle of battle? Insolent!"

He inhaled sharply. The blade in his grip flared, qi exploding outward in streams of silver light. His technique shifted—no longer the flowing rivers, but a storm of cutting rain. Countless tiny arcs of light burst from his blade, filling the air like a blizzard of edges.

The disciples cried out in awe. "The Rainfall Sword!""That's Senior Brother's finishing technique!"

The arena dissolved into chaos. Thousands of sword-lights slashed in all directions, their reflections multiplying upon the mirrored floor until it seemed as though Tian Lei stood within a cage of blades.

But Tian Lei did not falter. His eyes gleamed, soul sense stretching to its absolute peak. Every arc of light was mapped before him, every path laid bare. He drew a long breath and moved.

Step—strike—twist—palm!

His body threaded between blades, skin grazing the edges but never fully cut. Sparks flew where sword-qi met his palm strikes, bursts of light exploding as he redirected the deadly arcs into the ground, shattering the mirror floor.

CLAAANG! CLAAANG! CLAAANG!

Blood trickled from fine lines across his arms, his shoulder, his cheek—but still, he pressed forward. Every strike he turned aside brought him one step closer to Lu Cheng.

Lu Cheng's expression shifted. For the first time, his blade wavered—not from weakness, but from exhilaration. His teeth bared in a grin, sweat dripping from his jaw. "Good! Come, Tian Lei! Let's decide this with one final strike!"

Tian Lei's chest heaved, qi burning hot in his veins. He raised his hands, palms glowing faintly as his own energy surged, gathering tighter, denser, until the very air around him quaked.

The illusions shattered completely. No rivers, no mountains, no stars—only raw light and darkness trembling in anticipation.

The two surged forward.

Lu Cheng's blade roared down, a single perfect strike that carried all his qi, all his intent—the embodiment of his River-Cutting Sword.Tian Lei's palms thrust out together, soul sense fusing with every thread of energy, compressing his strike into a single burst of unstoppable will.

BOOOOOOM!

The world turned white.

The force of their clash erupted like a heavenly tribulation, wind howling, shards of jade exploding outward, disciples shielding their faces as they were nearly blown from their seats. Even the elders raised barriers to withstand the impact.

When the storm faded, the arena was no longer whole. The mirror floor was fractured beyond recognition, jagged pieces floating in midair as though suspended by residual qi.

At the center of the ruin, Tian Lei and Lu Cheng both stood frozen—then staggered apart, blood spilling from their mouths.

Lu Cheng's blade hung loose in his grip, trembling as though it would fall at any moment. His chest rose and fell heavily, his knees bending as he fought to remain standing.

Tian Lei's arms shook violently, his sleeves shredded, palms bloodied from the direct clash. His body swayed once, twice—before he planted his feet firmly on a jagged shard of jade, spine straight, eyes burning.

Silence. Absolute silence.

And then—

"He… he didn't fall."

"Impossible…"

"A Spirit Master third stage… matching Senior Brother blow for blow?!"

Up above, Haiyun leaned back with a deep chuckle. "Not bad, boy. Not bad at all."

Mu Jian's expression darkened, but his eyes glimmered with respect he could no longer hide. "This… will shake the sect."

Down below, Lu Cheng lifted his head, a weary but brilliant smile on his lips. "You… truly are a monster."

Tian Lei's breath trembled, but his voice was steady. "And you… are the first who's pushed me this far."

The mirrored shards of the arena swirled slowly around them, like stars gathering in orbit—as though the heavens themselves had paused to acknowledge their duel.

The jagged shards hung suspended, spinning slowly in the still air, each piece reflecting the two combatants as if the heavens themselves were holding up a thousand mirrors to their struggle.

Tian Lei's chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, blood still trailing down his arm, but his gaze never wavered. Lu Cheng, blade trembling, straightened his back despite the ache in his limbs. For a brief moment, there was no audience, no sect, no rules—only two men whose spirits refused to yield.

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd as the shards began to descend, raining down like fragments of starlight. Neither Tian Lei nor Lu Cheng moved to avoid them. Instead, their qi flared, creating subtle currents that redirected the shards into harmless glimmers around them.

"Are they… still going to fight?" one disciple whispered, voice breaking under awe.

"They'll fight until one of them can't stand anymore," another answered, eyes wide.

Lu Cheng raised his sword, its edge nicked and faintly cracked from the strain of the last clash. "Tian Lei… no one has ever forced me this far before." His voice carried not arrogance but the rare weight of respect. "If I stop here, it would insult both of us. Let us settle it."

Tian Lei's lips curved faintly, his tone low but resolute. "Agreed."

The air thickened once more, qi boiling across the ruined arena. Every disciple felt it—an oppressive, suffocating tide pressing against their hearts. Even those in the higher seats shifted uncomfortably, as though watching this battle any longer might crush their own wills.

Mu Jian's brows furrowed. "They'll destroy what remains of the arena if this continues…"

Haiyun chuckled, eyes glinting. "Then let them. A duel like this is worth more than any slab of jade."

Lu Cheng surged forward first, his qi condensing into a single line of silver light, pure and unyielding. There were no illusions this time—no rivers, no storms, no rain. Only the distilled essence of his sword: sharpness, finality.

Tian Lei met him, palms glowing with faint golden lines as if carved by the heavens. His soul sense expanded to the utmost, every detail of Lu Cheng's strike crystal-clear before it even landed. He thrust his palms together, shaping all his will, all his strength, into one blow.

CLAAAAANG!

The impact shattered what little remained of the arena floor. Shards of jade erupted skyward like a hundred meteors, and the shockwave rolled through the stands, rattling teeth and shaking bones.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. The clash froze in perfect balance—blade against palm, qi against qi, spirit against spirit.

Then—

CRAAAACK!

A fissure split Lu Cheng's sword, racing down its length like a bolt of lightning. His eyes widened, the blade crying out as steel gave way beneath Tian Lei's force.

SNAP!

The weapon shattered, fragments scattering like falling stars.

Lu Cheng staggered back, blood spraying from his lips, his body swaying as if the ground beneath him had turned to liquid. Yet even in defeat, his eyes burned bright, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

Tian Lei was shaking as well, his arms heavy, his body close to collapsing. But he forced himself to stay on his feet. "Thank you," he said simply. "For showing me the true path of the sword."

The arena exploded with noise. Disciples shouted, some cheering, others crying out in shock.

On the dais, Mu Jian leaned forward, his voice serious. "This boy… he'll shake the entire continent one day."

Haiyun gave a small smile, his eyes steady. "No. He won't just shake it—he'll change it."

Tian Lei stood in the center of the broken arena, battered but unyielding, while all eyes were fixed on him.

Lu Cheng struggled to his feet, swaying but refusing to stay down. His face was pale, blood still at the corner of his lips. He looked at Tian Lei with eyes that burned with determination.

"Next time… I won't lose," he said, his voice rough but steady.

Even though he had just been defeated, there was no shame in his expression—only a rising flame in his gaze. Then, with slow, heavy steps, he left the stage, his back straight despite the injuries.

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