Xiao Feng's piercing green eyes, narrowed into slits like a prowling feline, widened slightly as his jian's razor-sharp edge aimed toward Wu Gao's chest—the vital area where the heart pounds beneath.
Suddenly, the air around them seemed to constrict, the atmosphere growing dense as if his jian faced the immense force of a crashing sea wave.
A sardonic smirk tugged at the corners of Xiao Feng's mouth, etching faint crinkles around his eyes as he swiftly adjusted the trajectory of his attack.
He noticed Wu Gao lowering his stance, ducking with feline grace, then abruptly raising his head while gripping his jian in a two-handed grip, poised to execute a devastating uppercut.
BANG!
The entire wooden platform trembled violently once more, a jagged crack splintering across the vast surface.
The sturdy planks quaked from the thunderous impact, as a faint, shimmering pool of bluish Qi blasted outwards in pulsing ripples, the invisible force reaching the surrounding crowd with blasted air.
"Amazing..." After a brief, breathless silence, the spectators blinked in astonishment, their eyes wide with disbelief.
They witnessed Wu Gao holding his jian in an iron grip, both hands clenched around the hilt as he unleashed a vicious uppercut aimed with lethal precision at Xiao Feng's exposed neck.
The deep green martial robe that draped Xiao Feng's form billowed outward, the fabric sliced cleanly yet not severed, only the front section where Wu Gao's jian had come within a hair's breadth of kissing the cloth.
Despite Xiao Feng's towering height of nearly 6 chi, taller than his opponent, the blade of Wu Gao's jian had managed to stop with exquisite control a mere fraction from puncturing Xiao Feng's vulnerable throat.
Xiao Feng's ebony hair, once bound in a loose topknot, now cascaded freely down his back in a shining waterfall of silk.
As for the man himself, his jian remained raised high above, poised to deliver a devastating downward slash, yet his gaze was riveted downward, neck craned up as he stared in mute shock at Wu Gao's blade hovering a hair's breadth from his jugular.
He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing convulsively, eyes still refusing to accept the stark reality unfolding before him. Yet before he could find his voice to speak...
SWOOSH!
Withdrawing his jian from Xiao Feng's neck in one fluid motion, Wu Gao casually sheathed the blade and clasped his hands together with a deep, respectful bow. "Thank you for the invaluable guidance, Brother Xiao."
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These brief, humble words hung in the air, suspended in a moment of profound silence before the entire crowd erupted into a fervent commotion of noise and movement.
"As expected! The Tiger of Kunlun!" A thunderous voice rose above the tumult, pride resonating in every syllable.
"The Kunlun sect is not falling, but rising ever higher!" Another zealous voice joined the first, fervent words igniting the crowd into raucous cheers.
Witnessing the spectators' reverent smiles and glistening, awe-struck gazes directed towards Wu Gao, who remained rooted in place with hands cupped in a humble gesture, Xiao Feng felt a searing flare of resentment twist his gut.
Having finally composed himself and lowered his tilted neck, an acrid taste flooded his mouth as jealousy and indignation flooded his heart and mind. 'It's not over yet!' he inwardly raged, nostrils flaring as he drew a deep, calming breath through gritted teeth, eyes blazing.
Only then did he truly notice Wu Gao's ashen pallor and parched, cracked lips—obvious signs of strain.
Despite the Wu Gao's steady, direct gaze, Xiao Feng sensed it lacked focus, the eyes slightly glazed. 'He's weakening!' the realization sparked through him like a flash of lightning. Wu Gao's cupped hands trembled faintly, legs quivering with the first hints of exhaustion.
'I've won! I should be the victor!' Confidence surged through Xiao Feng's veins as his sharp eyes catalogued every minute detail of Wu Gao's deteriorating state.
If the match continued, he was certain he could evade Wu Gao's strike and deliver the decisive blow his own paused attack promised.
"That was a superb exhibition from Kunlun,"
However, just as Xiao Feng was about to declare his intent and voice his opinion on extending the bout, an authoritative voice cut him off sharply.
"I believe Kunlun's potential vastly exceeds what we witnessed here."
The words hung heavy in the air as Murong Yu, the Young Master of Murong Clan, landed beside Xiao Feng.
"Thank you for your evaluation, Young Master. However, I believe the Murong style is better suited for using a jian," Wu Gao replied humbly, causing Mu Rong Yu to smile faintly at him.
He then cast a piercing sidelong glance at the Xiao Feng, eyes glittering with unspoken meaning as if he instinctively grasped the other man's intentions.
"And you, Fellow Martial Brother Xiao?" Murong Yu continued levelly, fixing Xiao Feng with a penetrating stare brimming with calm assurance—a look that seemed to snap Xiao Feng from his stunned, conflicted daze.
"I..." The words withered on Xiao Feng's tongue as his gaze darted between Wu Gao's trembling cupped hands and Murong Yu's presence standing resolute beside him.
Indecision warred within Xiao Feng's chest as the weight of potential consequences crashed over him like a surging wave.
To openly challenge this outcome, to decry the injustice of an unjust defeat, risked incurring the wrath of the Murong Clan upon himself and his own sect.
Yet, to accept such a loss against his conscience felt like sacrificing his very integrity.
...
Meanwhile, the scene shifts seamlessly to the Kunlun representatives' viewing area, offering a different perspective on the pivotal exchange between Murong Yu, Wu Gao, and Xiao Feng.
Beneath the shaded canopy on the opposite high ground, the Kunlun Officials Disciples representatives observed the unfolding events with rapt attention.
"Hmph! Look at him! I just know he won't admit defeat!"
A shrill voice, tinged with indignation, pierced the air as a petite figure with severely narrowed brows and long black hair styled in twin braids glared daggers at Xiao Feng's distant form.
The words spilled from Shen Bi's lips, her eyes blazing in fury.
"Hmmm, he's merely consumed by jealousy," a melodious voice chimed in, carrying a lilt of disdain. A stately woman rivaling Xiao Feng's imposing height, watched the scene through impassive eyes, her expression a studied mask of calm indifference, it was no one other than Qiu Xia.
Long, lustrous tresses the shade of midnight cascaded elegantly over her shoulders from a simple, unadorned updo as she witnessed Xiao Feng finally take his leave, offering respectful obeisance to Wu Gao.
"Well, such petty types are commonplace in the Jianghu. Especially now that our reputation precedes us," remarked another feminine voice, rich with wry amusement.
Her dark brown tresses tumbling down her back in a glossy wave, observed Xiao Feng's dejected departure with a hint of a smirk playing about her full lips, it was no other than Ding Xiuying.
A strategically placed mole at the corner of one eye only enhanced her exotic allure. "Though I must admit, the Young Master of Murong seems rather...suspicious, don't you agree, Gang'er?"
Her query, however, hung unanswered for a profound moment as the person she had asked remained silent, their pensive gaze fixated on the wooden platform, their mind clearly dwelling elsewhere.
She had flowing locks the color of midnight, styled in a partial updo. Skin as pale and delicate as porcelain was offset by full lips the color of rose petals. With almond-shaped dark brown eyes, she was none other than Lian Rougang.
"M...Senior Sister?" An odd, fraught silence stretched between them before...
"Well...well...well... Did you Kunlun forget about us?" The mocking words, laden with arrogant bravado, immediately commanded the group's undivided attention.
Another disruption erupted from the arena itself—a fresh commotion signaled by the brash arrival of an entirely new contingent onto the scene.