The air grew thick with tension as Shen Yuan and Lei Tianfeng stepped onto the stage, the crowd’s collective anticipation electric and volatile. Disciples from every corner of the sect gathered, breaths held, and eyes locked on the two figures who now stood as focal points of both fear and excitement. For those who had witnessed Lei Tianfeng’s brutal slaughter of Mao Li, this moment held a visceral weight, a clash of fate and vengeance.
Lei Tianfeng smirked, eyes gleaming with arrogance as he sized up Shen Yuan. He was still reveling in his previous victory, no doubt thinking this match would end the same way. But Shen Yuan's gaze was chillingly calm, a tranquil storm about to break. A bitter, fierce anger simmered beneath his calm exterior, tightly restrained yet ready to explode.
“So, you’re here to take revenge for that weakling?” Lei Tianfeng taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. “I didn’t expect her death to draw out so much attention. But you… You’ll end up just like her.”
Shen Yuan remained silent, his expression unreadable. But a strange coldness began to fill the air around him, an energy so intense that even the spectators felt a shiver run down their spines. The nearby disciples instinctively took a step back, a foreboding sense of dread settling over them.
The judge glanced between the two, his eyes wary, then raised his hand. “Begin!”
The moment the signal dropped, Lei Tianfeng lunged forward, his movements swift and brutal. His fist radiated dark energy, like a poison ready to consume anything it touched. He aimed straight for Shen Yuan's chest, intending to end the fight quickly and assert his dominance. But Shen Yuan didn’t move, his cold eyes fixed on his opponent, reading every flicker of his body.
Then, just as Lei Tianfeng’s fist was a breath away, Shen Yuan vanished.
It wasn’t a simple sidestep. His movement was so fluid, so imperceptible, that Lei Tianfeng’s strike hit only empty air. Before he could even process what had happened, Shen Yuan reappeared behind him, a blade-like aura pressing against the back of Lei Tianfeng’s neck.
“Too slow,” Shen Yuan said, his voice barely more than a whisper, but each word struck like shards of ice.
Lei Tianfeng growled, swinging around with a roar, his hands igniting with dark energy as he unleashed a series of rapid strikes. Shen Yuan dodged each one with effortless grace, his movements precise and calculated, his expression unwavering. He countered with a single punch to Lei Tianfeng’s side, an attack that seemed deceptively simple. But as it connected, Lei Tianfeng’s body buckled under the force, his face contorting in shock and pain.
“Is this really all the strength you have?” Shen Yuan’s voice was devoid of emotion, but a quiet, scathing contempt lingered beneath. “You talk so much about power… yet you rely on brute force alone.”
Lei Tianfeng staggered back, fury twisting his features as he spat, “Don’t get cocky! I’ll show you the difference between us!” Summoning a surge of energy, he gathered dark qi in his fists, a black aura crackling ominously around him. The crowd gasped, recognizing the technique—it was one of the deadliest arts taught within the sect, forbidden to all but those who had proven themselves ruthless enough to wield it.
Shen Yuan’s expression didn’t change. If anything, a faint glimmer of disappointment crossed his features.
Lei Tianfeng charged again, faster this time, his fists blurring into a series of dark, crushing blows. His attacks hit with the force of a hammer, each strike vibrating with destructive intent. But Shen Yuan met each blow head-on, his own aura flaring to life, shimmering coldly like winter frost. With every collision, Lei Tianfeng’s darkness was met by an unyielding wall, one that refused to crack or waver.
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“Are you really trying?” Shen Yuan asked, his tone biting. His next move was swift and devastating—a palm strike directly to Lei Tianfeng’s chest. The impact sent him hurtling across the stage, his body skidding to a halt just shy of the edge. He coughed, blood staining his lips, and glared up at Shen Yuan, rage twisting his features.
“You… you dare…” Lei Tianfeng’s voice was hoarse, his pride deeply wounded.
Shen Yuan took a step forward, his gaze piercing. “Your arrogance blinds you, Lei Tianfeng. You thought you were invincible, untouchable. But in reality, you’re just another arrogant fool who thinks cruelty equates to strength.”
“Shut up!” Lei Tianfeng spat, fury igniting his body with renewed energy. He unleashed a desperate, final gambit—dark qi surging through his veins as he prepared a forbidden technique. His eyes glowed with a bloodlust so intense that the spectators felt a heavy, oppressive energy suffocating the courtyard.
“Dark Conflagration!” he shouted, and with a roar, unleashed a torrent of dark energy that surged toward Shen Yuan like a tidal wave, massive and consuming. The force of it threatened to swallow the entire stage, the sheer magnitude of power sending shockwaves that rattled the crowd.
But Shen Yuan simply stood, unfazed. He extended one hand, palm open, and a frigid aura began to gather, forming a swirling storm of icy qi. It condensed into a gleaming, razor-sharp lance of frost, suspended in his hand like a weapon crafted from pure winter.
In an instant, he hurled the frost lance into the oncoming wave of darkness. The two forces clashed, the air crackling with the violent collision of heat and cold. And then, in a blinding flash, the frost lance cleaved through Lei Tianfeng’s Dark Conflagration, slicing through it as if it were nothing.
A gasp swept through the crowd as Lei Tianfeng’s attack was shattered, the remnants dissipating into the air. For the first time, a flicker of fear crossed his face, his eyes widening as he looked at Shen Yuan, realizing the depth of his power.
Shen Yuan advanced, his steps measured, deliberate. Each one carried the weight of absolute control, his gaze unyielding, colder than any winter storm. He stopped just a few paces away, meeting Lei Tianfeng’s gaze with a chilling intensity.
“This is for Mao Li,” he murmured, his voice soft, but every syllable rang out like a death knell.
Lei Tianfeng gritted his teeth, scrambling backward, but it was too late. Shen Yuan’s aura swelled, freezing the air around them, a deadly calm settling over his face. He raised his hand once more, a sharp blade of frost forming in his grasp, shimmering with lethal purpose.
“No!” Lei Tianfeng shouted, panic finally cracking through his composure. But Shen Yuan’s expression didn’t waver, his movements as swift and merciless as fate itself.
With a final, decisive strike, Shen Yuan’s blade pierced through Lei Tianfeng’s chest, a burst of freezing energy exploding outward. Lei Tianfeng gasped, his body seizing as the cold seeped into his veins, his face twisted in horror and disbelief. The life drained from his eyes, and he collapsed onto the stage, his body as still and lifeless as the chill that lingered in the air.
The silence that followed was profound. Not a single disciple dared to speak or even move, the shock and awe of Shen Yuan’s strength leaving them breathless.
Shen Yuan looked down at Lei Tianfeng’s lifeless form, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he simply stood there, the cold dissipating, his aura returning to its usual calm. A flicker of satisfaction, perhaps, glimmered in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by something deeper, something far colder.
As he turned to leave the stage, the disciples instinctively parted, creating a path for him, their gazes filled with both reverence and fear. Bai Chen approached him cautiously, his voice a mixture of awe and worry. “Shen Yuan… you…”
Shen Yuan glanced at him, his eyes softened momentarily. But he said nothing, merely inclining his head as he walked past, his mind already focused on the path ahead, one he knew would only become darker.
Behind him, the disciples whispered in hushed tones, their voices tinged with fear. Shen Yuan had proven his strength beyond doubt, and in doing so, he had claimed his place among them as a figure both respected and feared.
But for Shen Yuan, this victory was but a small step—a grim, necessary act in the pursuit of his true goal. And as he walked away, leaving Lei Tianfeng’s body cold and broken upon the stage, he knew that this was just the beginning of the vengeance he would carve into the world.
With a final glance back, his cold gaze swept over the disciples, silent but carrying a promise.
For those who stood in his way, there would be no mercy.