Sports Day at Imperial High arrived with the kind of fanfare usually reserved for a national revolution. The bleachers were a sea of cheering "blooming buds," but the air hummed with a tension that only a few could truly feel.
Director Zhao stood on the VIP balcony, holding a heavy, jade-encrusted remote trigger. He looked down at the track, expecting to see the dull, hungry glow of the Obsidian Sand. Instead, the entire field was shimmering with a blinding, multi-colored brilliance.
"Why is the track... glowing?" Zhao hissed, shielding his eyes.
"It's a new school initiative, Director," Chen Feng's voice floated up from the field. He was standing near the starting block, wearing a whistle and a pair of neon-violet athletic shorts that left very little to the imagination.
"We call it 'Visual Motivation.' It's hard to lose when you're running on a rainbow."
Zhao gritted his teeth and pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. The dark array beneath the earth groaned, but instead of siphoning energy, the iridescent glitter acted as a "light-refractor," bouncing the curse's frequency back into the dirt like a confused echo.
"Now!" Chen Feng blew his whistle. "Luo-Shu Formation, engage!"
The music—an epic, high-energy orchestral beat—blasted over the speakers. To the students, it was a breathtaking opening ceremony. To those in the know, it was a tactical deployment.
Su Meiling, Lin Xuerui, Mu Ronghuan, and Principal Ye Qingxuan stepped onto the field. They wore matching ivory silk leotards with accents in their signature colors. As they moved, their silver-threaded ribbons began to weave a complex, three-dimensional geometric web in the air.
Meiling's ribbon trailed embers, Xuerui's left a wake of crystalline mist, and Ronghuan's shimmered with the golden weight of her family's legacy. Principal Ye moved at the center, the "Anchor" of the formation. Every time their feet touched the ground, they weren't just dancing; they were "stomping" the rising dark energy back into the burial mound, smoothed out by the conductive ribbons.
Master Tie, watching from the sidelines, finally realized the "gymnastics" were a direct counter to his Seismic Dao. His gray eyes clouded over with the fury of a mountain that had been mocked.
"Enough of this theater," Tie rumbled.
He didn't wait for his turn to "supervise." He stepped onto the track, his every footstep cracking the asphalt despite the glitter. The crowd went silent as the old master approached Chen Feng.
"You play with ribbons and sparkles, boy," Tie said, his voice a low vibration that made the water bottles in the stands ripple. "But the earth only answers to weight. I will show you the difference between a 'magic trick' and the Pillar of the World."
Tie suddenly dropped into a horse stance. The air around him distorted. He didn't punch; he simply drove his heel into the center of the track.
BOOM.
A visible shockwave tore through the glitter, heading straight for the "Big Four" and their formation. If that wave hit them, the harmonizing array would shatter, and the curse would erupt.
Chen Feng didn't move from his spot. He simply held up a single finger—the same one he'd used to flick the taco truck thugs.
"Master Tie," Chen Feng said, his "Salted Fish" lazy smile vanishing to reveal a sliver of the Sovereign's true edge. "You're making a mess of my track. And I just spent three hours teaching them that choreography."
As the shockwave reached him, Chen Feng stepped forward and met the seismic energy with a casual, open-palm strike directed at the air.
The two forces collided. A localized hurricane of wind and glitter erupted, swirling around the two men. Tie's "Mountain-Crushing" weight met Chen Feng's "Infinite Void." The ground beneath them groaned, not from the curse, but from the sheer mass of two masters fighting for control of the planet's crust.
"You want a battle?" Chen Feng's eyes glowed with a terrifying, golden light. "Fine. But let's take it deeper. I'd hate for the girls to ruin their hair in the crossfire."
Tie roared, his muscles bulging until his traditional robes began to shred. The battle for the school—and the city—had officially moved from the boardroom to the arena.