The sun hung high over the Soaring Dragon Arena, a blinding white eye staring down at the chaos below.
It was hot—a dry, dusty heat that made the air shimmer above the stone tiles of the ring. But the heat wasn't what was making the audience sweat. It was the tension.
Ten thousand disciples sat in the bleachers, but it was strangely quiet. The air was thick with expectation. Today was the Grand Final. And one of the teams was missing.
In the VIP box, high above the common rabble, Elder Mo sat with a cup of tea that had gone cold. He drummed his long, skeletal fingers on the armrest of his chair.
"Time is almost up," Elder Mo said, his voice smooth and fake as polished glass. He turned to the man sitting in the central throne—the Sect Master. "It is a shame. I had high hopes for Disciple Jiang and his... companion. But it seems the pressure of the finals was too much for them."
The Sect Master, a middle-aged man with eyes like deep pools of water, didn't reply. He just watched the empty tunnel entrance.
"They have one minute," the Sect Master said calmly. "The bell has not yet rung."
In the center of the arena stood Long Aotian.
He was the definition of perfection. Tall, broad-shouldered, with hair that seemed to defy gravity and robes embroidered with real gold thread. He was the Sect's "Golden Child." A Stage 6 prodigy who had allegedly wrestled a wyvern when he was twelve.
Long Aotian checked his fingernails. He looked bored. He looked magnificent. He looked like he wanted to go home and count his money.
"Referee," Long Aotian called out, his voice magically amplified to reach every ear. "Call the match. I don't wait for trash."
The referee, sweating nervously, looked at the hourglass. The final grain of sand was about to fall.
"Due to the absence of the opposing team," the referee raised his hand, "I declare the winner by forf—"
HUMMMMM.
It wasn't a loud sound. It was a vibration.
It started low, a deep resonance that shook the dust off the arena floor. The water in the spectators' cups rippled. The weapons on the weapon racks rattled.
Long Aotian frowned. He looked toward the dark entrance of the challenger's tunnel.
From the shadows, two violet lights flared to life.
They looked like the eyes of a predator waking up in a cave.
Then, they emerged.
Jiang Fan walked out first. He looked terrible. His robes were wrinkled, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he was yawning so wide it looked like his jaw might unhinge. He was holding a half-eaten pork bun in one hand.
But no one was looking at Jiang Fan.
They were looking at Gu Ling.
She didn't roll. That was the wrong word for it.
Her wheelchair, now stripped of its bulky armor and replaced with sleek, dark metal plating, hovered a full foot off the ground. The movement was uncanny. It was perfectly smooth, with zero bobbing or swaying. She glided forward like a ghost drifting over a frozen lake.
The mechanical spider legs on the back of the chair were unfolded, twitching slightly in the air, reacting to unseen stimuli.
But the most terrifying thing was her eyes. They were glowing with a faint, rhythmic violet pulse that matched the runes etched into the chair's chassis.
She didn't look at the crowd. She didn't look at the referee. She looked directly at Elder Mo in the VIP box.
She raised a hand. The chair stopped instantly—no deceleration, just a sudden, absolute stillness that defied physics.
"Sorry we're late," Gu Ling said. Her voice was calm, but it carried a strange, metallic echo. "We had some... maintenance issues."
Elder Mo gripped his teacup so hard it cracked.
"They're here," the Sect Master said, a small smile touching his lips. "Let the match begin."
"THE GRAND FINAL!""LONG AOTIAN vs. THE OUTCASTS!""BEGIN!"
The gong's sound had barely faded when the air exploded.
Long Aotian didn't waste time with banter. He launched himself forward.
"Golden Dragon Step!"
The stone beneath his feet shattered into powder. He moved faster than Li Murong—he was a blur of gold and white. In a heartbeat, he was in front of Jiang Fan, his fist wreathed in roaring, golden flames.
"Die, peasant!"
It was a kill shot. A Stage 6 punch aimed directly at Jiang Fan's unarmored chest.
Jiang Fan didn't dodge. He was still chewing his pork bun.
CLANG.
The sound of metal striking metal rang out like a church bell.
Long Aotian's fist stopped inches from Jiang Fan's face.
It had been caught.
A black, mechanical claw—one of the spider legs from Gu Ling's chair—had snapped forward with blinding speed. It gripped Long Aotian's wrist, the metal digging into his skin.
Gu Ling was ten feet away. She hadn't moved her hands. She hadn't shouted a command. She had simply thought it.
Long Aotian's eyes widened. "What?"
"You're loud," Gu Ling whispered.
Her mind flared. Throw him.
The mechanical leg jerked. Long Aotian, a man who weighed two hundred pounds of pure muscle, was flung into the air as if he were made of straw.
He flipped mid-air, landing gracefully on his feet, but his expression had changed. The arrogance was gone, replaced by confusion.
"That reaction speed..." Long Aotian muttered. "You didn't use a controller. That was instantaneous."
"Jiang Fan," Gu Ling said, not taking her eyes off the enemy. "Finish your bun. I'll take the lead."
"Deal," Jiang Fan mumbled, swallowing. "Careful. He's got a lot of Qi. He's basically a walking battery."
Long Aotian roared, his pride stung.
"You think a toy can stop me? I am the Golden Dragon! I am the future of this Sect!"
He clapped his hands together.
"Secret Art: Thousand Gold Swords!"
The air behind him shimmered. Hundreds of swords made of solid, golden Qi materialized. They pointed at Gu Ling like a firing squad.
"Turn into scrap metal!"
He thrust his hands forward. The swords launched. It was a torrential rain of gold, enough to level a small city.
Gu Ling didn't blink.
In the old days, she would have panicked. She would have fumbled with her joystick, trying to align her shields.
Now? She just felt the air currents shifting. She felt the Qi density of the incoming attack through the sensors in her wheels. It wasn't scary. It was just data.
Vector calculation complete, her mind whispered. Evasive maneuvers.
She didn't retreat. She charged.
Her chair dipped and weaved through the storm of swords. It was impossible movement—she spun on a dime, accelerated instantly, and drifted sideways. The swords slammed into the ground where she had been a millisecond ago.
Left. Right. Tilt 30 degrees. Accelerate.
She was dancing through the death storm.
"She's... she's closing the distance!" a disciple in the crowd screamed.
Long Aotian panicked. "Stay back!"
He grabbed a real sword from his belt and slashed at her as she broke through the barrage.
"Dragon Tooth Slash!"
The blade came down.
Gu Ling didn't block. She spun her chair, using the momentum to swing the rear of the chassis around.
"Tail Whip."
The heavy, spirit-iron wheel of her chair slammed into Long Aotian's sword.
CRACK.
The sword shattered.
The impact continued, the wheel driving into Long Aotian's ribs.
"Gah!"
He stumbled back, gasping for air.
But Gu Ling wasn't done. She was connected to the machine. The adrenaline, the violet energy, the sheer joy of movement—it was intoxicating.
"Jiang Fan!" she shouted. "Now!"
Jiang Fan had finished his bun.
He was standing twenty feet away, watching the fight with a look of mild appreciation. When she called his name, he sighed and opened his inventory.
He didn't pull out the fan. He pulled out a Small Wooden Box.
He tossed it into the air.
"System," Jiang Fan said softly. "Active Skill: Swap."
POP.
Jiang Fan vanished.
In his place, the small wooden box fell to the ground.
And Jiang Fan appeared in mid-air, directly above the stumbling Long Aotian.
"Gravity Field: Maximum Output."
Jiang Fan dropped like a meteor. The air around him turned purple and heavy. He slammed his foot down onto Long Aotian's shoulder.
BOOM.
The ground caved in. A crater ten feet wide exploded into existence.
Long Aotian didn't even have time to scream. The combined weight of Jiang Fan and the crushing gravity drove him into the earth. He was pinned, face down in the dirt, unable to move a finger.
The silence returned.
Jiang Fan stood on Long Aotian's back. He dusted off his shoulder.
"Stage 6," Jiang Fan said to the unconscious form beneath his boot. "But you skipped leg day. Your stance was weak."
He looked up. Gu Ling hovered over the crater, her violet eyes slowly fading back to their normal silver. Her chest was heaving, not from exertion, but from the rush of the neural link.
She looked at Jiang Fan.
He looked at her.
"Show off," Jiang Fan grinned.
"Lazy bum," she shot back, a radiant smile breaking through her stoic mask.
The referee stared at the scene. The "Golden Child" was buried. The "Cripple" was flying. And the "Lazy Trash" was standing on top of the strongest disciple in the sect.
"Winner..." the referee's voice cracked. "Winners... JIANG FAN AND GU LING!"
THE AFTERMATH
The crowd didn't cheer immediately. They were too shocked. But then, Han Yu stood up in the front row and screamed.
"YEAH! THAT'S MY TECH! I WELDED THAT PLATE!"
Little Que joined in. "BEAST & SCRAP DUO RULES!"
Slowly, the applause started. It grew louder and louder until it became a roar that shook the mountain.
In the VIP box, Elder Mo stood up abruptly. His face was a mask of fury. He turned to leave, but a voice stopped him.
"Sit down, Elder Mo."
The Sect Master hadn't moved. He was looking down at Jiang Fan and Gu Ling with intense interest.
"But Sect Master!" Elder Mo hissed. "They cheated! That chair... that movement... it's forbidden technology! It's heresy against the cultivation path!"
"It is innovation," the Sect Master said coldly. "And the boy... did you see?"
"See what? That he stood on a defeated opponent?"
"No," the Sect Master pointed. "When he used the Gravity Field. He didn't use a chant. He didn't use a seal."
The Sect Master's eyes narrowed.
"He used Intent. At Stage 4."
Elder Mo froze. Intent was something only Golden Core masters could use.
"Bring them to me," the Sect Master commanded. "Not to the Discipline Hall. To my personal study. I want to know exactly what kind of monsters we have been breeding in the Outer Sect."
Down in the arena, Jiang Fan hopped off Long Aotian's back.
He walked over to Gu Ling.
"How are the legs?" he asked quietly. "Any feedback pain?"
Gu Ling checked her internal diagnostics. "My spine feels warm. But... no pain. It worked, Jiang Fan. It actually worked."
She looked at her hands. She clenched them.
"I can walk," she whispered, looking at the wheels. "In my own way. I can walk."
Jiang Fan smiled. He reached out and patted the metal armrest of her chair.
"Good. Because now comes the hard part."
"What? The Sect Master?"
"No," Jiang Fan pointed to the exit tunnel where a throng of screaming fans and reporters were gathering. "Social interaction. I'm going to need a really big nap after this."
Gu Ling laughed. She reached out and took his hand.
"Don't worry," she said, revving her engine. "I'll drive. Just hold on."
As they moved toward the tunnel, into the blinding light of their new future, Jiang Fan closed his eyes.
[ System Alert: Tournament Arc Complete. ][ Reward: "Pocket Dimension (Home Base)" Unlocked. ][ Reward: "Mysterious Egg" (Pet) ][ Main Quest Updated: "The Secrets of the Ancestors" ]
Jiang Fan smiled.
A pocket dimension, he thought. Finally. A place where no one can find me.
But as he felt Gu Ling's hand in his, tight and warm, he realized something strange.
For the first time in his life... he wasn't in a rush to be alone.