Lin Wu landed behind her, unmoving.
His sabers hit the stage with a tallic clatter.
Then—
A line of blood drew itself across his chest, clean and surgical, like it had always been there.
He gasped, dropped to a knee—
—and collapsed.
A golden flare erupted into the sky.
"Match over!" the male comntator shouted, stunned. "Victory… goes to Xun Wei of the Black Paradise Sect!"
Xun Wei bowed politely, calm as still water, before turning and walking back to her side. Her sword was still sheathed.
No one had seen it move.
"She's terrifying," one of the Flowing Blade disciples whispered, watching her pass.
"She's only the first?" another muttered, fear in his eyes.
…
anwhile, high above the arena on the Matriarch's viewing platform, Shi Lan, and Supre Elder Song both had complicated looks on their faces. They were both knowledgeable about the [ Ghost Blade ] technique, but it wasn't supposed to be used the way Xun Wei was using it, nor was it supposed to be that strong.
"[ Ghost Blade ]... it's not supposed to work like that," Supre Elder Song muttered, arms crossed tightly. "The technique creates a montary illusion that fools the opponent into thinking they're not moving, not the spectators. I'm a Divine Realm cultivator, and yet I couldn't even see her hand move."
Yao Wu, seated with a faint smirk, didn't look the least surprised.
"She's clever, isn't she?" she said proudly.
"That's not an explanation," Shi Lan said, glancing sideways at her. "What exactly is she doing?"
Yao Wu sighed dramatically, then leaned forward. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you. She's combining the [ Illusory Clone - Mimic ] technique with [ Stealth ]. Whenever her hand moves, she leaves behind an illusory arm to mimic its last position. At the sa instant, she hides the real motion with [ Stealth ] until the hand returns to where it started. It's slight—but in combat, it's enough to make even us question reality."
"You're telling us that she's simultaneously using three techniques at once? That can't be what's really happening, right?" Shi Lan blinked.
"I told you she's clever."
Supre Elder Song frowned. "That level of timing and control… it should be impossible, especially mid-combat."
"You're right, it definitely should be, but sothing I've learned about Xun Wei is her exceptional ability to calmly execute several techniques at once," Yao Wu replied.
Supre Elder Song couldn't help but feel like she was being fooled, but Yao Wu's explanation was the only thing that made sense explaining what she saw.
"Still," Song continued, "why waste energy on techniques that don't even affect her opponent?"
Shi Lan turned to her. "What do you an?"
"[ Stealth ] doesn't work at close range—it's nearly useless in a direct duel. And her [ Illusory Clone ] could've been used to confuse her opponent or bait attacks. Instead, she's using it to hide the motion of her own hand from spectators. That has no tactical value in a one-on-one fight."
Yao Wu's lips curled into a knowing grin.
"She's not trying to win the fight," she said softly. "She's trying to win the war."
Shi Lan raised an eyebrow. "War?"
"Her opponent isn't just the man on stage," Yao Wu said, eyes gleaming. "It's every single disciple on the Flowing Blade Sect's team. She wants to defeat them all—one by one."
"That's absurd," Song scoffed. "Ten fighters? Back-to-back? That's far too ambitious."
Yao Wu's smile didn't fade. "Perhaps. But if she keeps fighting like this… she might just pull it off. As of now, the only thing the Flowing Blade sect understands about her is that she can block anything that cos her way, and strike her opponents without lifting a finger."
[ The most fearso opponent is the one you can't understand. ]
There was a long silence before Matriarch Shi Lan eventually recalled sothing Yao Wu had said.
"Wu, you said she had a weakness?"
"She was weak against attacks targeting her legs."
"And what about now?"
"I've trained her. I can confirm that she no longer has such weakness."
"Then— if we were to have another mock tournant, what place do you think she'd rank?"
Yao Wu paused to think.
"Fourth…" she answered. "Gao Fen is too cunning. As for Li Qin, she's a complete mystery—rumor has it she's already mastered the [ Illusory Body ] technique. What I do know is that the number of illusionary techniques she's mastered far exceed anyone else in her generation. And Li Lian… well, she's Li Lian."
"People are saying she already grasped the [ Illusory Body ] technique? Don't they know that's a Divine Realm technique," Song frowned. "Rumors like that are beyond ridiculous."
"Gao Fen and Li Qin are both 25 years old. To be placed beneath them isn't a bad thing at all," Matriarch Shi nodded in satisfaction.
Despite Yao Wu's words, the truth was, she didn't think anyone in the youngest generation besides Li Lian could defeat Xun Wei.
…
Back on the arena stage, the air was electric. The crowd had only just begun to recover from Lin Wu's shocking defeat when the next na from the Flowing Blade Sect was called.
A tall, broad-shouldered disciple stepped forward. Confidence warred with caution in his eyes. But the mont he looked across the battlefield and t Xun Wei's gaze—her calm, unreadable expression carved from ice—his feet faltered.
She hadn't moved once in her last match. Hadn't raised her sword. Hadn't blinked.
And yet Lin Wu was still bleeding.
The challenger swallowed, his fingers twitching toward his belt. He was stronger than Lin Wu—barely—but whatever she was doing, he needed to figure it out before getting within range.
Keeping a cautious distance, he circled wide and drew three razor-sharp throwing knives. The crowd murmured, and the comntators leaned forward in their elevated pavilion.
"Interesting choice," one said. "He's testing the waters."
The blades flew with a sharp whistle, aid precisely at her arms, legs, chest—
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Each one was deflected mid-air—by nothing. There was no swing. No flicker of movent. Not even a shift in posture. Xun Wei stood rooted, sword sheathed, her gaze unblinking.
"…What the hell…" the challenger muttered under his breath.
"Let's see you stop this!" he roared, then leapt back and unfurled both arms. Dozens more knives flew from his sleeves and satchels, gleaming under the afternoon sun.
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