"Begin!" the elder announced, voice steady.
The word had barely fallen—
—when Zhang Guanyu moved.
His figure flashed like a blood-colored comet. The Life Severing Dead Bone Blade howled from its sheath, descending in a vicious arc. True essence exploded from his meridians; a dark red halo flared around him, and the blade's trajectory tore afterimages into the air.
"Life Severing—"
"—Dead Bone Cut!"
To most Human and Earth Hall disciples, it was too fast to see.
To Murong Zi, it was slow.
The instant Zhang Guanyu's true essence surged, his pulse channels lit up in her perception. Fire Laws, twisted by Divine Acacia Power's evil flavor, raced through his meridians. The battle-hardened Fire Martial Intent in Murong Zi's body—tempered on that blood island and polished in Ren's courtyard—unfolded in her mind like a battlefield map.
She saw it all.
The line of the Life Severing blade's path.
The subtle twist in his waist and spine.
The way his killing intent coiled around the edge like a living thing, trying to bite.
All of it was just… lines.
Murong Zi's right foot slid half a step.
Her spear dipped.
True essence stirred.
A spiral bloomed around her.
No roaring flames. No dazzling light. Just a tight vortex of heat that wrapped around her body like invisible armor. The scorching aura rotated, each strand of Fire true essence moving according to a pattern Ren had beaten into her bones—Heaven-Opening Origin Art's clean channels laced with Primal Chaos Meridian Canon's ancient, devouring rhythm.
Zhang Guanyu's blade crashed down into that spiral—
—and slid.
The edge did not bite into flesh.
Murong Zi's spear did not clash with it directly.
Her vortex caught the force, turned it, and guided it past her body as naturally as water flowing around a rock. The killing intent that would have shattered the bones of any ordinary Early Bone Forging martial artist whistled past her shoulder, harmless, its path twisted away.
To the crowd, it looked like Zhang Guanyu's strike had simply… missed.
"What—"
"How…?"
"She didn't even use a defensive martial skill…"
A ripple of disbelief spread like shockwaves across the arena.
On the platform opposite Zhang Guanyu, Murong Zi's ponytail swayed in the lingering wind. Her spear hummed, circling lazily in her hand.
"Is that all?" she asked.
Her tone wasn't mocking.
It was genuinely disappointed.
Zhang Guanyu's pupils shrank.
He had not held back. That cut had carried seventy, eighty percent of his power. Even an half-step Pulse Condensation martial artist would have had to meet it seriously.
Yet this Altering Muscle girl—someone he had always regarded as a jumping board beneath his feet—had slipped past his killing move with a single light step, as if she had already walked his blade's path in advance.
Humiliation burned up from his chest to his face.
"…Fine," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Let's see how long you can dance."
He kicked off.
Shadowless Acacia footwork unfolded beneath his boots. His figure blurred, multiplying; afterimages overlapped, each one carrying a different angle of attack. Life Severing Dead Bone Blade swept out again and again, weaving a net of killing intent that chopped toward Murong Zi from every direction.
To outer disciples, it was terrifying. They could barely follow the blade at all—only streaks of red and white light that appeared and vanished around Murong Zi's body.
But no matter how Zhang Guanyu attacked, her spear was always a half-step ahead.
A tap on the shaft here, a small twist of her wrist there. Her body turned within a calm, tight circle. The spiraling true essence around her drank in each incoming strike, diverting, dissolving, returning force to the ground.
Not once did the Life Severing Dead Bone Blade touch her clothes.
"Is this… still Altering Muscle realm?" someone whispered hoarsely.
"Her true essence is clearly lower than his…"
"Then how—"
Ren sat among the elders and honorary guests, posture relaxed, one leg casually crossed over the other. His gaze was indifferent, as if he were watching a scene whose ending had already been written.
Beside him, Na Yi's clear eyes glinted with comprehension.
"That spiral," she murmured. "She's wrapping all his force into her field and never letting it travel the line he wants."
Na Shui's hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
"Come on, Zi…" she whispered, almost bouncing in place. "Make him eat it…!"
On the high platform, Qin Ziya's brows gradually knit together.
Sun Sifan exhaled slowly, eyes solemn. "That footwork and spear path…" he said under his breath. "This isn't the Martial House's Heaven-Opening Spear. It's… something beyond it. A foundation built on that, but already stepped into another level."
Even several Pulse Condensation elders frowned, their eyes growing serious as they tracked Murong Zi's spirals by instinct more than sight.
Among the Seven Profound Valley representatives, murmurs spread like faint waves.
Ouyang Dihua watched with narrowed eyes, fingers tapping lightly on his armrest. His expression was cultured, polite—but each tap carried a thread of irritation.
"At Altering Muscle, to completely neutralize peak Bone Forging strikes…" he thought coldly. "What exactly has this 'guest instructor' been feeding them…?"
On the platform, Zhang Guanyu felt as if he were cutting at fog.
Every time his blade should have bit flesh, it met nothing.
Every time his killing intent locked onto Murong Zi, her spirals slipped out from under it, sending it past her shoulder, her waist, the space where she had been a blink before.
His aura, at first fierce and overbearing, began to twist with impatience and shame.
"Enough!"
He retreated a step, chest heaving. True essence roared inside his meridians, Divine Acacia Power turning his breath hot and his blood thin and fast. His face flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation.
His eyes chilled.
"I intended to leave your meridians intact," he said, voice low and cold. "But since you are so stubborn—"
He slashed his blade through the air.
Blood-colored light burst forth.
"Ecstasy Cut!"
The air twisted.
A sinister aura spread out over the platform. This was a killing move borrowed from the more perverse layers of Divine Acacia Power—its edge not only cut flesh, but struck at the opponent's mind, drowning them in illusion and desire.
On the stage stone, a strange sweetness washed across the air. Several weaker disciples at the fringes staggered, faces flushing, breath shortening. A few swayed as if they had just inhaled wine fumes thick with hidden poison.
Murong Zi's pupils narrowed.
Ecstasy Cut's illusion rushed toward her sea of consciousness—
—and slammed into a wall of spiraling chaos.
Her true essence did not simply travel Heaven-Opening Origin Art's clean channels. Beneath that surface, the deeper, older pattern of Primal Chaos Meridian Canon pulsed. Each breath she took drew in not only Fire attribute heaven and earth origin energy, but also the "noise" riding on it—stray killing intent, scattered emotions, even the faint remnants of Ecstasy Cut's charm.
She let that filth pour in.
The Ancient Ming-flavored Dao Ren had woven into the art responded like a beast scenting blood. It devoured, refined, and spat those impurities back out as fuel.
Heat surged.
For a single heartbeat, Murong Zi's racing heart calmed.
"This is enough."
Her spear point drooped slightly.
Then rose.
The rune-wheel behind her heart spun.
Fire Martial Intent—small success—flared to life. A red-gold wheel manifested behind her back, no longer just a faint impression but solid and bright. Its spokes spun slowly at first, each line etched with fine burning runes. Within its field, the traces of Zhang Guanyu's Fire arts, his raging blood vitality, even the sweetness of Ecstasy Cut's aura—all of it was compressed and forced to burn at a higher order.
The air trembled.
A wave of momentum crashed down.
"—Houtian…?"
The word slipped from someone's lips before they could bite it back.
It wasn't just pressure.
It was the feeling of a higher realm's true essence flooding the platform.
To the Human and Earth Hall disciples, it felt as though their bones had suddenly become too small. Their blood boiled, their lungs burned. Several Altering Muscle youths went pale, knees buckling as if the sky had pressed down on them without warning.
Zhang Guanyu's face drained of color.
His Bone Forging aura was crushed flat, like a candle placed beneath a falling boulder.
The gulf between Body Transformation and Houtian was like a chasm. Since the moment he had stepped into Bone Forging, Zhang Guanyu had always looked forward to crossing that distance, to becoming like Martial House Master Qin Ziya—someone whose mere presence made the air heavier.
He had never imagined that an Altering Muscle girl would project that same weight back at him.
On the high platform, Qin Ziya shot to his feet before he could stop himself. His fingers dug deep grooves into the armrest.
"This…!" he breathed.
The deputy masters' eyes widened. Their own Houtian true essence stirred uneasily, as if a peer had suddenly walked onto the stage.
"It can't be true Houtian," Sun Sifan muttered, throat dry. "But this… aura… it's no weaker than mine…"
Among the Seven Profound Valley envoys, even the Pulse Condensation elder who had been lazily half-dozing turned grave. The vortex of true essence in his dantian swayed, just for a heartbeat, under that condensed Fire Martial Intent.
Ouyang Dihua's pupils shrank into pinpoints.
"How?" he thought coldly. "Law essence… at Body Transformation? And this Martial Intent…"
On the stands, Na Shui clutched Na Yi's sleeve, eyes wide.
Na Yi swallowed once, her own Fire Laws quivering in response to Murong Zi's intent.
Murong Zi drew in a long breath.
The blood sea she had pierced on the black island, the altar shattered beneath her feet, the endless drills in Ren's courtyard, her body collapsing over and over under his corrections—all of it surged behind her like a tide.
She stepped.
The spear in her hands thrust forward.
There were no flashy flourishes.
Just a simple, straight stab.
But behind that spear, the red-gold rune-wheel aligned perfectly. Fire Laws flowed along the spear shaft, compressed until they screamed without sound, then forced into a single point at the tip.
The spiral she had used defensively all this time flipped.
Instead of swallowing Zhang Guanyu's strength, it swallowed hers—then spat it out through the spear tip in one concentrated beam.
Zhang Guanyu tried to block.
His Bone Forging bones roared. Divine Acacia Power surged, twisting his true essence into a perverse, boiling stream. Life Severing Dead Bone Blade lifted, its edge shrieking as it met the oncoming spear.
The instant blade met red-gold light—
—it shattered.
The bone-white edge cracked down the middle with a sound like a bone snapping under too much strain. Fractures raced along its length, and the Life Severing Dead Bone Blade, which had harvested countless lives, split apart into jagged fragments.
Murong Zi's spear did not slow.
The force behind it drilled through the collapsing blade's remaining power, smashed into Zhang Guanyu's chest, and detonated.
Boom.
The stone beneath his feet exploded like brittle clay. Shockwaves rippled out, solid enough to be seen—rings of distortion that rippled the air. Disciples in the front rows staggered back, robes snapping, faces blanching as the impact brushed their bodies.
Zhang Guanyu's body flew across the platform like a broken sandbag.
He slammed into the arena's protective array with a dull, ugly thud. The barrier flared, trembling. He slid down, leaving a smear of blood.
His chest armor had caved in.
Bones beneath had cracked, several completely turned to powder. His meridians screamed; the previously smooth circulation of Divine Acacia Power twisted into chaos, unable to form a complete cycle. Had Murong Zi's spear gone a finger-width deeper, his heart would have burst.
Silence swallowed the field.
Every eye stared.
One move.
After she truly acted—after she fully unleashed that Houtian-level Fire Martial Intent—it had taken a single move.
A junior at Mid Altering Muscle—
—with Houtian combat power—
—had crushed Heavenly Abode's carefully cultivated genius to an inch of his life.
Not a single disciple dared to breathe loudly.
Murong Zi straightened, spear tip lowering.
Her shoulders rose and fell once, twice.
Then she grinned.
"Mm." She rolled her shoulders, as if loosening tight muscles after training. "The stepping stone wasn't too bad."
There was no loud bragging in her tone. It was more like she'd judged the weight of the stone beneath her feet and found it adequate.
Her gaze swept the crowd, meeting stunned stares head-on. On the sidelines, Na Shui's knees gave out; she dropped into a half-squat, then bounced back up with a squeal that cracked.
"Zi! Zi! You did it! Did you see his face? He went completely white—!"
Na Yi's lips curved faintly.
"His aura collapsed before the spear even landed," she said quietly. "He lost the moment you decided to try."
Bai Jingyun exhaled a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Qin Xingxuan's grip slowly loosened on her spear, fingers uncurling with effort.
Murong Zi's eyes, still bright from battle, slid to the bench where Ren sat.
Ren had risen halfway, one hand resting on his knee. Under the sunlight, his expression was faintly amused, not surprised at all. That familiar easy smile tugged at his lips.
"Nice work," he called, his voice carrying just enough to reach her clearly. "As stunning as I figured you'd be."
Heat rose faintly to Murong Zi's cheeks. She jammed her spear butt against the stone and tilted her chin.
"Of course," she replied. "If I lost after all that practice, I'd be too embarrassed to show my face in your courtyard."
Scattered, wobbly laughter rippled through the disciples. The suffocating weight over the arena cracked like thin ice under sunlight.
And then another pressure fell.
This one did not come from Murong Zi.
It came from the high platform.
Ouyang Dihua stood up.
His robe sleeves rustled, dark red silk catching the light. The faint poisonous charm that clung to Divine Acacia Power wrapped around him, like perfumed smoke hiding a rotten core. For a moment, his smile was as gentle as ever.
"Impressive," he said. "Truly impressive. To cultivate a Body Transformation disciple to such a level… Guest Instructor Ren's methods are… extraordinary."
His words sounded like praise.
Every elder heard the blade hidden inside.
By the law of the Seven Profound Valleys, the Valley's envoy had great authority over the Martial House. Zhang Guanyu was not just a disciple; he was a seed disciple of the Valley, raised by the Alliance, backed by Acacia Faction.
To have him almost killed in front of so many eyes…
If Ouyang Dihua swallowed this quietly, where would his prestige go? What would the other factions think of the Acacia Faction's face?
Beside him, Zhang Guanyu coughed out a mouthful of blood. His eyes blazed with hatred deep enough to strip flesh, his fingers twitching uselessly as he failed to even push himself upright.
Ren uncrossed his legs.
He stood up slowly, dusting off his robe with a casual pat, as if he had merely finished a leisurely meal rather than watched one of his disciples shatter a genius.
Hundreds of gazes locked onto him.
Ren spoke, expression indifferent.
"This is just what happens when you put someone on the right road and let them walk," he said. "If she were rotten wood, no amount of carving would save her."
His tone was light, almost lazy, but each word landed in the hearts of the elders like a rock in a deep well.
Ouyang Dihua's eyes narrowed.
"However…" Ren continued, the corner of his mouth lifting, "if you're dissatisfied—"
He stepped.
Just one step forward.
The world changed.
No true essence visibly surged.
No laws exploded in the sky.
And yet—
—the heavens over Seven Profound Martial House seemed to dim by a shade.
A sliver of Ren's aura slipped free.
Not killing intent.
Not deliberately suppressed coercion.
Simply the natural weight of his True Essence, forged in worlds and eras these people had never even heard of, solidified on a foundation that would make Empyrean descendants in distant epochs shiver and kneel.
It was enough.
To the disciples, it felt as if the world itself pressed down.
Their true essence faltered in their meridians, circulation stuttering. Knees threatened to buckle. Some of the weaker ones felt their vision darken for a heartbeat, their Spiritual Seas ringing.
To the elders, it was worse.
Houtian true essence that had been stable for decades trembled like a beast startled awake. Pulse Condensation vortexes jolted in dantians, spiraling out of rhythm before force of habit dragged them back in line.
Qin Ziya's heart skipped a beat.
Cold sweat prickled down his back, soaking his inner robe.
"This…" he thought, throat tightening. "This pressure… Xiantian? No… this is beyond that…"
Beside him, the deputy masters' faces drained of color. One of them unconsciously pressed a hand over his dantian, as if afraid his cultivation would spill out under that weight.
Ouyang Dihua's mind blanked for a breath.
His middle Pulse Condensation cultivation—his carefully cultivated Divine Acacia Power, his confidence, his status, his control—everything shrank. For a heartbeat, every instinct screamed at him to drop to his knees and bow his head.
It was the absolute difference between carving a flower in the courtyard…
…and facing a mountain whose peak disappeared above the clouds.
Then, just as suddenly, the pressure vanished.
Ren's aura withdrew like the tide leaving the shore, leaving the field as bright and clear as before. The only proof it had ever appeared was the faint tremor still running through meridians and the damp patches of sweat on many elders' backs.
Ren tilted his head, as if nothing had happened.
"If you want to 'guide' my disciples," he added calmly, "do it with your own hands."
Gasps exploded through the crowd.
Even Qin Ziya's scalp tingled.
"Guest Instructor Ren!" he began, but the words stuck in his throat. He didn't dare stand between that man and the Valley envoy.
Ouyang Dihua's fingers dug into his sleeve so hard the fabric nearly ripped.
For a man like him—whose whole life was built on authority and face—being suppressed for even a heartbeat in front of so many witnesses was humiliation carved into bone.
His smile froze.
Then slowly returned, brush-stroke perfect.
"…Since Guest Instructor Ren insists," he said softly, voice smooth once more, "how could I refuse?"
His gaze slid over Murong Zi, Bai Jingyun, Qin Xingxuan.
"Let us call this… a little guidance for the younger generation."
His eyes finally stopped on Qin Xingxuan.
She met that gaze and felt a faint chill crawl over her skin.
Oily. Calculating. Like fingers testing porcelain for hairline cracks.
At her side, Ren's voice arrived, smooth and easy, as if they were still speaking in the quiet of his courtyard instead of under hundreds of watching eyes.
"Xingxuan."
She turned.
That familiar smile was there on his lips, warm and steady.
"Want to use him to temper your Dao Heart?" he asked, as though asking if she wanted more tea.
Her heart steadied.
Her breath, which had been caught high in her chest, slowly sank back into her dantian.
"…Yes," she said.
Even she was a little surprised by how firm her own voice sounded.
Ren's grin deepened a fraction.
"Then go," he said. "If he complains about losing, we'll say it was Elder guidance gone wrong."
Na Shui choked on a laugh, shoulders shaking. Na Yi's eyes softened, the tension in them easing.
Qin Xingxuan stepped onto the platform.
Her spear rested lightly in her hand. Her robe fluttered in the arena wind. Compared to Murong Zi's blazing aura, she seemed quiet—like a lantern's soft glow on a winter night rather than a bonfire swallowing the sky.
Yet that glow had once burned stubbornly on a black island altar, refusing to be snuffed out.
Qin Xingxuan cupped her fists toward Ouyang Dihua.
"Disciple Qin Xingxuan greets Envoy," she said. Her voice was calm, neither servile nor arrogant.
Ouyang Dihua's lips curved.
"There's no need to be nervous," he said gently. "I will only use thirty percent of my strength."
"Thirty percent?" someone blurted in disbelief.
"He says that after seeing Murong Zi…?"
"Middle Pulse Condensation… using thirty percent against Altering Muscle… isn't that just… bullying?"
On the Seven Profound Valley side, one elder frowned faintly. If Ouyang Dihua was too heavy-handed, it would reflect badly on the Valley as a whole, not just on one faction.
But Ouyang had already decided.
His reputation, his face, Zhang Guanyu's grievous injuries, Bai Jingyun's subtle avoidance, the way Ren's disciples had slipped out of the net he'd been weaving—all of it had piled into a thorn in his chest.
He wanted to crush this girl's confidence—and through her, tear open the invisible net of trust Ren Ming had woven around the Martial House disciples.
He descended from the high platform, robes drifting.
True essence rose.
Middle Pulse Condensation—peak-level battle power. Divine Acacia Power churned in his meridians, turning his true essence viscous and sticky, like heated honey clinging to everything it touched. The air around him distorted faintly, colors bending at the edge of his aura.
Before he even reached the platform's center, a vortex had formed around his body. The lines of his Pulse Condensation circulation swelled; each heartbeat pumped more power into that whirlpool of evil charm.
To Altering Muscle disciples, it was suffocating. Many could no longer tell where their own true essence ended and Ouyang's began.
Qin Xingxuan's lashes lowered.
She remembered the blood sea pressing down on her, trying to drown her.
She remembered that lantern in the snow—its flame shaking under the storm but refusing to go out.
She inhaled.
Heaven-Opening Origin Art circulated, channels opening and closing with perfect rhythm. Beneath that, Primal Chaos Meridian Canon stirred, each breath drawing a thin thread of chaos from the world, tempering her bones, knitting her meridians tighter. Fire Laws—first level, peak—rose along those channels, glowing faintly like tiny lines of molten metal.
Her heart beat once.
Her fear did not vanish.
It simply sank into her true essence, melted down and turned into fuel.
Ouyang Dihua's foot touched the platform.
"Let us begin," he said softly.
He lifted his hand.
No weapon.
Just five long, pale fingers.
"Shadowless Acacia."
His figure swayed.
To the watching disciples, he seemed to blur, his body overlapping with several translucent images. His hand, wreathed in faint pink light, reached forward. Threads of Divine Acacia Power wove between his fingers like silk, targeting Qin Xingxuan's meridians.
If that hand landed, it wouldn't just injure her body; it would inject his true essence into her channels, leaving a "mark" that would shadow her cultivation for years, twisting her Dao Heart and staining her future.
Qin Xingxuan's eyes sharpened.
The instant his true essence reached for her—
Fire Martial Intent lifted its head.
Not as blazing and wild as Murong Zi's battlefield spear. Not as sharp and cutting as Bai Jingyun's sword.
It was a quiet, stubborn warmth, like that lantern glow in a winter night that refused to die.
The red-gold rune-wheel spun up behind her, smaller than Murong Zi's, but terribly dense.
Pressure fell.
Again, that Houtian-level aura swept the field. Different flavor, same terrifying weight.
This time, everyone was prepared.
They still weren't prepared enough.
Even braced, many disciples staggered, their true essence crushed flat for several breaths. Knees bent, teeth clenched; some had to grab the railing to stay upright.
Qin Ziya's chest clenched.
"Another one…" he thought, dazed. "Another disciple at Body Transformation… projecting Houtian might…"
The Seven Profound elders exchanged looks. Even those from factions other than Acacia felt their expressions twist.
"What exactly has this 'guest instructor' brought into our house…?" one thought, throat dry.
Ouyang Dihua's expression twisted for an instant.
His true essence vortex stumbled.
"Impossible," his mind screamed. "Law essence is not so easy to grasp—"
He forced his cultivation, middle Pulse Condensation, to the limit. Divine Acacia Power surged, wrapping his hand, forming a claw of blood-colored silk.
"Ecstasy Cut," he whispered. "Second Form—Falling Petal Dream."
Dozens of faint, petal-like lights scattered from his hand, drifting toward Qin Xingxuan. Each petal carried charm, illusion, corrosive energy—designed to seep past defenses, stick to the mind, and rot it from within.
Qin Xingxuan did not move.
Her Fire Martial Intent did.
The rune-wheel aligned with her heart, spinning faster. Every "petal" that floated into its field melted. The illusions hidden inside were stripped of their shape and flavor, burned to nothing. The charm collapsed before it could bloom.
She stepped forward.
Her spear rose.
At her feet, a thin ring of fire appeared, expanding and contracting with her breath. Each step she took deepened its color, from pale red to bright gold. The platform beneath her feet grew faintly warm, then hot, as if responding to her will.
Ouyang Dihua's instincts screamed.
"Don't let her finish—!"
He thrust his hand out again, this time completely abandoning the thirty-percent lie. True essence roared like a flood broken from a dam. The air between them shattered; a massive blood-red claw materialized, reaching for her like a demon's hand, heavy enough that even the protective array flickered and groaned.
Qin Xingxuan moved.
Her spear butt tapped the ground.
The ring of fire at her feet exploded outward, but it did not burn wantonly. It flowed along invisible lines, wrapping around Ouyang Dihua's incoming claw like a woven lantern frame.
Then she thrust.
The spear's tip glowed with red-gold light so soft it almost looked gentle.
When it touched the blood claw—
—it didn't explode.
It cut.
Not flesh.
Not bone.
It cut the flow of true essence itself.
Ouyang Dihua's meridians jolted. For a terrifying instant, his carefully cultivated Pulse Condensation vortex felt like a string of glass beads, each bead suddenly isolated from the others.
The blood claw collapsed.
The spear's momentum did not falter.
He tried to dodge.
Too slow.
The spear did not pierce his heart.
Qin Xingxuan was not Murong Zi.
Her spear slid across his chest like a stroke of molten ink. It burned through robe and protective true essence, carving a long, deep groove along his ribs. Heat sank into his channels, turning his true essence sluggish and heavy.
If she had angled her thrust a finger's width deeper, his lungs would have collapsed.
She stepped past him, not stopping to admire the wound.
Ouyang Dihua's body twisted, dragged by the remaining force.
He crashed to one knee, breath ragged.
For a heartbeat, no one understood what had happened.
Then someone whispered, voice shaking.
"One move…"
"That was just… one move…"
"But he's still—"
Before the thought could crystalize, Qin Xingxuan turned.
The ring of fire at her feet tightened, condensing into a band no wider than her foot.
Ouyang Dihua's eyes widened.
He instinctively tried to spring up, to retreat, to gather his scattered vortex.
Qin Xingxuan's spear came down.
The second move was even simpler than the first.
No fancy name. No intricate pattern.
Just a heavy downward smash, guided by Heaven-Opening Origin Art's raw force and Primal Chaos Meridian Canon's tempered body, fueled by Fire Martial Intent's compressed, stubborn heat.
To those watching, it felt like that winter lantern—after enduring storm after storm without going out—had finally chosen to fall, straight onto the head of an enemy who had tried to snuff it.
Boom.
The spear's shaft slammed into Ouyang Dihua's shoulder.
Bone cracked.
Then shattered.
His shoulder caved. The force drove him completely to the ground. The stone platform fractured under them, fine fissures spiderwebbing out in every direction from where his body hit.
Ouyang Dihua spat blood.
His middle Pulse Condensation meridians screamed as Qin Xingxuan's Fire Intent invaded, not to occupy, but to burn away the remnants of his vicious control. His right arm went limp, nerves stunned and channels singed.
If she had wanted to, she could have directed that force into his dantian and destroyed his cultivation on the spot.
She didn't.
She stepped back instead, spear withdrawing.
Her chest rose and fell once, twice.
Then she cupped her fists.
"…Envoy's guidance is appreciated," she said quietly.
Her tone was completely steady.
The Martial House stared.
A junior at Peak Altering Muscle—
—with Fire Martial Intent—
—had just suppressed a middle Pulse Condensation Seven Profound Envoy, forced him to his knees, and beaten him to an inch of his life—
—in only two moves.
The world seemed to tilt.
On the high platform, Qin Ziya's lips trembled.
Sun Sifan sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his vision dim for a moment as his heart pounded.
The Valley envoys' faces were like carved stone.
Below, the disciples' emotions burst.
"Insane…"
"This can't be real…"
"First Murong Zi, now Qin Xingxuan… both of them…"
"…Houtian. They're at Body Transformation and they're already Houtian…"
Murong Zi, having just stepped down, watched Qin Xingxuan's back.
Her grin softened, eyes shimmering.
"Tch…" she muttered, rubbing at one eye with the back of her hand. "She always looks so quiet, then she goes and pulls that…"
Na Shui seized her arm, nearly bouncing. "Did you see?! Did you see?! He went even whiter than Zhang Guanyu!"
Na Yi's gaze slid to Ren.
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down at the platform, smile as lazy as ever.
If not for the faint, sharp glint in his eyes, it would have looked like he was simply watching an amusing play.
Bai Jingyun's fingers tightened on her sword hilt.
Her heart pounded—not with fear, but with heat.
"Next time…" she thought, jaw setting. "Next time, it will be my turn."
On the platform, Ouyang Dihua forced himself upright.
Every movement was pain.
His earlier gentle smile was gone.
In its place was a twisted, stiff curve that barely qualified as one.
He could feel dozens of gazes drilling into him.
Martial House disciples.
Seven Profound envoys.
Even Qin Ziya and the elders.
In that moment, the "face" he had so carefully cultivated over the years felt as fragile as a painted mask soaked in rain.
He raised his head.
His eyes met Ren Ming's.
Ren was still smiling.
It wasn't a mocking smile.
It wasn't exaggerated arrogance.
It was just… relaxed.
As if nothing that had happened was outside his expectations.
"As expected," Ouyang Dihua thought, hatred burning like acid in his chest, "the problem… is you."
If he had been able to look into Zhang Guanyu's heart at that moment, he would have found the same thing.
Zhang Guanyu, still half-collapsed at the side of the arena, stared at Murong Zi, at Qin Xingxuan, at the way they instinctively stood half a step closer to Ren's side.
He tasted blood and bile.
"Ren Ming…"
The name scraped his throat like broken glass.
Hatred seared him to the marrow.
He would remember this.
He would remember the pain in his chest. The helplessness of being flattened by a girl he had once dismissed as beneath him. The way his plans and rumors, carefully spun through the Martial House, had shattered like cheap glass.
Ouyang Dihua's hatred went deeper.
He had come to Sky Fortune Kingdom confident.
Backed by Acacia Faction.
Supported by elders and contracts.
He had intended to take Bai Jingyun's future in hand like a toy, to "guide" the situation at his leisure. To pick out Pure Yin girls from the kingdom—those whose physiques suited Divine Acacia Power—to savor slowly under the excuse of cultivation guidance.
Now, in the time it took for incense to burn, he had been forced to his knees by a junior, suppressed by Ren's mere aura, and watched his authority crumble in the eyes of hundreds.
The more he smiled, the colder his heart became.
He smiled now.
It did not reach his eyes.
"Guest Instructor Ren's disciples are indeed… extraordinary," he said, voice hoarse but even. "This Envoy has been… enlightened today."
Ren's smile slowly turned cold.