Inside his spiritual sea, Wei Long watched the scene unfold, his sharp dinosauric teeth flashing as he grinned.
"Oh? What's this? They're all so eager. So angry. So ready for blood. Ah, I love it."
Red'Ribbon, however, was far less amused. His voice carried a hint of exasperation. "You love it? What's there to love? They're treating him like dirt."
Wei Long let out a chuckle. "Exactly. And what do you think happens when a person that everyone looks down on suddenly shows them they're wrong?"
Red'Ribbon frowned. "…They get angry?"
Wei Long's grin widened. "They don't just get angry. They break."
anwhile, back in the courtyard, a single voice cut through the sea of jeers.
"Let at him!"
The crowd parted slightly, and a disciple stepped forward.
His robes were far more extravagant than most—embroidered silk, layered with gold threading, his sash tied in an intricate knot that marked him as soone from a wealthy background.
His face was smug, confident, the expression of a man who had never lost before.
But what caught the most attention—was the beast beside him.
A Bashawk.
Larger.
Fiercer.
Stronger.
Its wings were broader, its talons sharper, its beak a shade darker—this was no ordinary Bashawk.
This was a Bashawk raised with wealth, with the finest resources, the best food, and the highest-quality training.
The murmurs spread like wildfire.
"That's Liao Han's Bashawk!"
"Wait, Liao Han? As in the son of the Liao family? They have so of the strongest tars!"
"It's over for Zou Fang. Liao Han's Bashawk is at least two stages above his. He doesn't stand a chance!"
Liao Han's smirk deepened as he took his place on the stage. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he stared at Zou Fang.
"You said your Bashawk would beco the strongest Bawshawk?" He scoffed, pointing at his own beast. "Then let my Bashawk test him."
Zou Fang exhaled slowly. He knew this was coming.
Bashawks were rare creatures, but they weren't uncommon among the wealthy.
The rich could afford to raise them, feed them exotic materials, and cultivate their bloodlines with powerful thods.
For soone like Liao Han, owning a superior Bashawk was expected.
For soone like Zou Fang, owning any Bashawk at all was considered a fluke.
That was the difference between them.
And yet—
Zou Fang simply smiled.
Inside the spiritual sea, Wei Long erupted into laughter.
"HA! HAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
It was not a normal laugh. It was a monstrous, booming, endless roar of amusent, the kind that shook the very foundation of Zou Fang's spiritual sea.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Red'Ribbon sighed deeply. "I swear, you laugh like this every ti sothing chaotic happens."
Wei Long's voice was practically dripping with joy. "Of course I do! Look at this! It's beautiful! It's perfect! That rich little brat really thinks he's won before the fight has even started! I love when they think that way!"
Red'Ribbon rubbed his temples. "You're impossible."
Wei Long cackled again. "And yet, you're still here." And then he would add as he looked at Lin Zhi, "A pity, he didn't co up," and with a glint in his eyes, he would mutter, "but he will later."
anwhile, back in the real world—
A figure suddenly landed between Zou Fang and Liao Han.
A sharp gust of wind followed, a pulse of authority spreading outward.
An unknown man stood between them. His robes were simple yet immaculate, his stance unwavering.
His presence was neither domineering nor weak—it was simply firm, like a wall that separated the two disciples.
"State your nas," he said, his voice neither harsh nor soft, but steady.
Liao Han was the first to step forward. He raised his chin slightly and announced proudly, "Liao Han, second son of the Liao family, disciple of the Autumn Dragon Sect."
His Bashawk let out a cry, spreading its wings as if emphasizing his words.
The referee turned his gaze toward Zou Fang.
Zou Fang did not hesitate. He t the man's eyes and said, "Zou Fang, disciple of the Autumn Dragon Sect."
Unlike Liao Han's Bashawk, Zou Fang's Bashawk remained silent. It simply stood beside its master, its golden eyes steady.
The referee nodded once. Then, with a calm, asured voice, he spoke the words that would officially begin the match.
"Begin."
The two combatants stood on opposite ends of the battle stage, their Bashawks mirroring their stances.
The tension in the air was thick—like it was so unspoken hostility radiated between the two of them.
The crowd had quieted, no longer chanting their insults but watching intently, eager to see Liao Han put the so-called "trash" disciple in his place.
Liao Han's Bashawk locked eyes with Zou Fang's Bashawk, its sharp gaze filled with provocation.
Its feathers bristled slightly, its talons digging into the stone stage, flexing as if eager to pounce. It let out a low screech, almost like a sneer, as if looking down on its opponent.
Liao Han smirked, crossing his arms. "I'll give you one last chance to go back down and admit defeat."
Zou Fang barely reacted to it.
Liao Han continued, his tone smug. "rge with your Bashawk. If you don't, you have no chance of winning."
Zou Fang, still unmoving, simply replied, "No need to do that."
Liao Han raised a brow. "No need to what?"
Zou Fang didn't elaborate.
Liao Han chuckled. "Are you serious? Are you actually serious right now?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You're either the bravest idiot I've ever t or the most delusional. But I'll make sure to enjoy your expression changes later on."
Zou Fang still didn't react.
Liao Han's smirk faltered slightly. "What's with that look? You're acting like this is so great secret. Fine, don't rge—just don't cry about it later."
Still, Zou Fang remained silent.
Liao Han narrowed his eyes. "Are you even listening? Do you actually think you can win like this? Are you so kind of lunatic? You do realize how outclassed you are, right?"
Zou Fang exhaled softly, then, in a completely flat tone, said, "Stop talking."
Liao Han blinked. "Excuse ?"
Zou Fang's gaze finally shifted toward him. His voice was still eerily calm. "Stop talking. Just attack."
Liao Han clenched his jaw. "Fine. You want to lose that badly? Have it your way."
He straightened his posture and raised a hand. "I'll give you one final warning. This is your last chance."
Zou Fang just stared at him.
Silence.
Liao Han's eyes twitched. "You—"
Before he could say another word, Zou Fang's voice cut through the air.
"Bashawk. Slicer Slash."
The command was given.
Zou Fang's Bashawk imdiately responded, its body tensing as it launched forward at a terrifying speed.
Liao Han clicked his tongue. "Tch. You really are an idiot."
He waved his hand. "Bashawk, Slicer Slash!"
His Bashawk shot forward like a bolt of lightning.
The two Bashawks closed the distance in an instant, their talons flashing under the sunlight, sharp as blades.
Inside Zou Fang's spiritual sea of consciousness, Wei Long watched the scene unfold with his usual grin.
"Well, well. This is getting fun."
Red'Ribbon, however, was analyzing the battle with a more serious expression. "Liao Han's Bashawk has the upper hand. It's faster, stronger, and more experienced. Its bloodline is likely purer as well."
Wei Long tilted his head. "So you're saying Zou Fang will lose?"
Red'Ribbon nodded. "Logically, yes. Liao Han's Bashawk has trained under far superior conditions. Its movents are refined, its attacks sharper. Zou Fang's Bashawk, on the other hand, is clearly struggling to keep up. Just look."
Wei Long did look.
And he grinned even wider.
Red'Ribbon frowned. "You're smiling. That ans you either did sothing… or you're about to."
Wei Long chuckled. "Just watch."
Back in the arena, the battle raged on.
Feathered wings clashed against each other, talons t in midair, and beaks snapped at blinding speed. The crowd watched in anticipation, murmuring amongst themselves as the fight escalated.
At first, it seed like an even exchange.
Zou Fang's Bashawk was moving well—agile, quick, relentless. But soon… the cracks began to show.
The difference in quality beca more apparent with each exchange.
Liao Han's Bashawk was simply faster.
Its movents were sharper, more precise. Its strikes were heavier, each impact pushing Zou Fang's Bashawk back bit by bit.
The audience started to murmur.
"See? This is why you don't act cocky if you're weak."
"Liao Han's Bashawk is on a completely different level."
"Zou Fang's Bashawk is already slowing down. It can't keep up."
The battle continued.
Zou Fang's Bashawk tried to regain its montum, but every ti it attacked, Liao Han's Bashawk responded faster.
A dodge.
A counter.
A stronger blow.
"That's what you get for being arrogant!"
"Did he really think he could win? Against a Bashawk like Liao Han's?"
"He should've rged when he had the chance!"
"Zou Fang's Bashawk is finished!"
The words echoed across the courtyard, but Zou Fang remained unmoved.
Liao Han, on the other hand, was grinning.
He could feel it.
Victory was already his.
His Bashawk had completely overtaken the fight. It was only a matter of ti now.
And then—
A final clash.
Both Bashawks darted forward one last ti, talons gleaming, wings flaring.
They slashed.
They passed by each other.
A heartbeat of silence.
Then, Liao Han smirked.
His eyes imdiately darted toward Zou Fang's Bashawk—
And then, he saw it.
Zou Fang's Bashawk staggered.
Just slightly.
It swayed on its feet, its eyes unfocused, as if it were drowsy.
Liao Han's smirk widened into a full grin.
"Hah. There it is."
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