They skidded to opposite ends of the battlefield once more, dust rising as both steadied themselves for another clash.
"Hhhmmpt." They both panted.
High above the fight, two figures floated lazily among the clouds, gazing down as if watching an amusing play.
"Heh, Bo—between these two brats, who do you think will win?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
"Hmmmm…" Bo took a long swig from his gourd, eyes half-lidded. "Hard to say. Every brat who's survived this long has stumbled upon some extraordinary treasure. The final day really did weed out the useless ones."
He chuckled softly.
"But if I had to choose… I'd say the brat with the dark blade. That sword feels like it's only just warming up. Its first state is beginning to open."
Below, though Lian wasn't aware of it, his blade had begun to glow faintly—threads of crimson light crawling across its black surface-like veins awakening beneath skin.
"And you, Cài Lǐ?" Bo asked, tossing the gourd over. "Which of these brats catches your eye?"
Cài Lǐ caught it easily and took a measured drink.
"That Zhou Lung," he said calmly. "Cunning, patient, and talented. He could be polished into something useful."
Bo laughed. "Hah! Fair choice. Looks like this match is about to end—let's see how it plays out."
"Lian Xing!" Yang shouted from across the ruined ground.
"Let's finish this with our next exchange. We've wasted enough time."
"Fine," Lian replied, lowering his stance. "Let's end it."
"Kukuku…
Yang's lips curled into a cruel smile.
That fool… he should've been paying attention."
His fingers moved in a swift, subtle pattern.
Snap.
Shadows beneath Lian's feet surged upward like living chains, wrapping around his legs and torso, locking his movement in place.
"Shadow-binding restraints…" Yang sneered. "You're finished."
Yang charged forward, blade in hand—bone armour gleaming, his killing intent flooding the battlefield as he closed the distance in an instant.
"So… this is what caught Huǒ Yànhuā last time…"
Even as the thought crossed his mind, Lian felt the blade's Qi resonate with his own.
"Huh," he murmured. "So, you're finally willing to work with me, huh?"
His grip tightened.
"Fine. Then show me."
Crack!
The outer layer of the blade shattered like glass, fragments dissolving into light as a deep crimson sheen swallowed the weapon whole. The sword hummed—no, sang—its intent flooding Lian's body.
In that same instant, Yang was already in front of him.
Blade raised.
Strike imminent.
And then—
Time slowed.
The world crawled; every motion stretched to a tenth of its speed. Dust hung motionlessly in the air. Yang's killing intent froze mid-surge.
High above—
"Is that… Sword Unity?!" Bo exclaimed, finally intrigued by something; his eyes were wide with anticipation.
Below, Lian moved.
In one smooth, effortless motion, he cut.
The shadows binding him were severed cleanly, swallowed whole by the crimson blade as if they had never existed. Lian shifted his body by the smallest margin.
"Micro step." He murmured.
Yang's strike missed.
Lian raised his sword.
And let it fall.
"Celestial Blade — Final Stance: Flowing River."
There was no explosion.
No shockwave.
No roar of Qi.
Just a single, silent arc.
Yang froze.
Then his head slid from his shoulders and struck the ground with a dull sound.
Thud.
His body followed a heartbeat later, crashing to the ground.
"What… was that just now?" Lian staggered back, staring at the blade in his hand, disbelief flooding his face.
"Hahaha, look at him, he doesn't even realise what he just did, Ahh, that brat, I want him for myself." Bo thought, a wide grin stretching over his face.
"How strong has he become? I feel like I'm watching a hero from the old night stories my nanny used to read, ha? Doesn't that make me the jade princess?" she blushed, covering her face.
"How stupid, what am I thinking?"