Scene 1
Dust still hung in the air from their last exchange.
Lin Xian wiped a faint smear of blood from the corner of his mouth, a small reminder of the blow to his ribs from earlier. He straightened, pale robes settling around him, the faint smile never leaving his face despite the ache in his side.
To the watching elders, that smile was unsettling.
He's injured… yet his aura is stabilizing instead of weakening,
What kind of battle sense is this?
> "So," Lin Xian said lightly, his voice steady as a blade drawn in silence.
"I've tested your strength. Not bad. But if that's all you have—"
"You'll lose today."
A ripple ran through the courtyard.
Some gasped.
Others instinctively shook their heads.
He dares say that… to a sect disciple?
Zhao Tianfeng let out a derisive laugh, his lightning qi sparking brighter.
> "You? A peak Mortal Vein cultivator, against me?" he sneered.
"You dare speak of victory? Keep your arrogance — it'll be your last breath."
Inside Zhao Tianfeng's chest, irritation burned hotter than the lightning around him.
This should already be over.
I should have crushed him.
Lin Xian's eyes narrowed slightly, the amusement in them deepening.
> "We'll see."
"Why is he still so calm?". Zhao Tianfeng felt it — that faint, unbearable pressure creeping into his chest.
"Why isn't he panicking?"
This wasn't how weak cultivators behaved.
Lightning pulsed through Zhao's meridians, responding to his agitation. His pride screamed at him to end it — now.
Enough games.
In the next instant, Lin Xian blurred.
The world seemed to dim as Shadow Steps unfolded to another level — faster, sharper, leaving afterimages flickering in every direction. Zhao Tianfeng's spiritual sense flared, but Lin Xian's movements were already ghostly, unpredictable, like flowing shadows slipping between flashes of thunder.
A whisper of wind — then a fist shot out.
> "Nirvana Fist, First Stance — Shadow Punch!"
Dozens of phantom blows followed, overlapping like waves.
Zhao Tianfeng roared, summoning a lightning barrier to block — but each strike carried a strange aftershock, shattering through his guard and forcing him back several steps.
Then, before he could recover, Lin Xian's right fist twisted midair. His energy pulsed inward, black and crimson chi intertwining like a heartbeat of death.
> "Abyssal Pulse Punch!"
The impact struck Zhao square in the chest — a dull, crushing sound echoed as spiritual energy imploded. His face twisted, blood spurting from his lips as his internal meridians shuddered violently.
> "You—!" he gasped.
But Lin Xian was already gone from his sight.
A flash — and two fingers suddenly jabbed forward like lightning.
> Pchhk!
A precise strike to the throat — not deep enough to kill, but sharp enough to shatter his rhythm. Zhao Tianfeng staggered, coughing blood, his lightning qi scattering chaotically.
Rage distorted his face.
> "Enough!"
In a burst of fury, Zhao Tianfeng's sword finally left its sheath — thunder exploded across the courtyard as a brilliant arc slashed forward.
Yet it only carved through a fading afterimage.
Lin Xian's voice whispered like a ghost behind him.
> "Too slow."
Scene 2 – Clash of Swords
Zhao Tianfeng's teeth clenched as he steadied his breathing. Sparks of thunder coiled around his blade, each crackling arc hissing with killing intent.
> "You… forced me to draw my sword."
"But that ends now."
Lin Xian appeared several meters away, one hand in his pocket, his expression utterly calm. The contrast between his serenity and Zhao's fury only deepened the tension.
> "Oh?" Lin Xian said with a faint smirk.
"I thought you said you wouldn't unsheathe your sword for a dog."
"So tell me—who's the dog now?"
Laughter rippled quietly through the onlookers, though most tried to suppress it. Zhao Tianfeng's veins bulged in rage; the thunder qi around him exploded outward in a dome of flashing light.
> "You'll pay for that!"
He lunged forward, sword flashing with arcs of stormlight. Each slash came with enough power to rip through the air and scorch the ground. The spectators could barely follow his movements — only streaks of lightning and steel.
Lin Xian's stance shifted.
With a flick of his wrist, Shadowbane appeared in his hand — the obsidian blade humming faintly as if greeting its master.
The moment their blades met, the sound of clashing metal cracked through the courtyard like thunder.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks scattered. Lin Xian's form was elusive — his footwork sliding like flowing ink. Each time Zhao's sword slashed through an afterimage, Lin Xian was already at another angle, deflecting, redirecting, probing.
Zhao's attacks grew more violent, his strikes sharper, infused with lightning that could melt steel.
But Lin Xian's expression remained unreadable. His blade moved with precision, not force — reading, calculating, dissecting.
He whispered under his breath.
> "Too high on your left shoulder."
"Your stance shifts on every breath."
"Your sword forms are wasted on brute power."
Zhao Tianfeng roared, his sword bursting with thunder as he unleashed his technique.
> "Thundercloud Slash!"
A bolt of lightning split the air, striking straight toward Lin Xian.
The ground cracked open in its wake — yet Lin Xian's figure vanished before impact, dissolving into a shadow blur.
From behind, his voice came again, calm and almost pitying.
> "You trained in the sect, yet your foundation is fragile. Your teacher must be disappointed."
Zhao spun, fury distorting his face. "You dare mock my—!"
But before he could finish, Lin Xian's God's Eye flickered gold for just an instant — insight flooding through him. In that single breath, every flaw in Zhao's movement unfolded before his gaze.
He stepped in, his sword sliding with elegance.
> "You swing too loud," Lin Xian murmured.
"Allow me to show you silence."
---
Scene 3 – Silent Edge
For a moment, all sound vanished.
The two figures collided again, but this time, the rhythm had changed. Lin Xian no longer defended — he dictated.
Each strike forced Zhao backward, each parry cut closer, tighter, until thunder and shadow blurred into one violent dance.
> "Damn you!" Zhao roared, lightning flashing around him.
"I'll kill you!"
Lin Xian's form shimmered—and then vanished completely.
A cold breeze brushed past Zhao's ear.
> "Too late."
The whisper came from behind.
A black light flashed.
> "Shadow Severing Sword Art—First Stance: Silent Edge."
The sound that followed wasn't thunder.
It was the faint, chilling slice of a blade passing through flesh.
Zhao Tianfeng froze mid-step, his eyes wide in disbelief. His right arm fell to the ground — cleanly severed at the shoulder.
Before the pain could even register, Lin Xian's foot lashed out in a sharp back kick.
The impact struck Zhao square in the abdomen, sending him flying backward.
He crashed into the Zhao clan's formation, shattering the barrier and collapsing to the ground in a pool of dust and blood.
He coughed violently, vomited blood, and screamed in agony. His lightning aura flickered like a dying flame.
Then — silence.
No one moved.
Even the wind seemed to halt.
Every cultivator present — Bai Yusheng, Yue Lan, Grandmaster Xu Tian — watched in stunned disbelief. The young man who had been mocked as a mere Mortal Vein cultivator stood calmly in the aftermath, his blade glinting faintly under the moonlight.
Lin Xian exhaled softly, lowering his sword.
> "For someone from a great sect," he said coldly,
"you fall like anyone else."
The silence that followed was absolute.