Chapter 10- Feng Shan's Turning Point

The midday sun bore down on the grand tournament arena, its heat mirroring the intensity that rippled through the battle stage. Feng Shan adjusted the grip on his sword, his palm damp with sweat, but his resolve unshaken. He stood alone at the center of the arena, his opponent just a few paces away.

Across from him was Xu Liang of the Sky Division, a name whispered through the academy halls with both awe and apprehension. Xu Liang's movements were a blur, his reputation carved from the speed and precision that had left many opponents defeated before they could so much as stand their ground. A calm confidence radiated from him as he flexed his fingers, his spear's shaft glinting in the sunlight.

The gong rang out sharply, signaling the start of the match. Before Feng Shan could even take a proper stance, Xu Liang dashed forward, the tip of his spear biting through the air as if it sought to tear apart the very space between them.

Feng Shan spun his blade up into a parry, the metallic clash reverberating through his bones. The sheer force made him stagger back abruptly as Xu Liang pressed his momentum, striking repeatedly without pause. Each movement of the spear was seamless, swift, an endless barrage that Feng Shan could barely track with his eyes.

"Too slow," Xu Liang muttered dispassionately between strikes, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.

All around the arena, the crowd murmured. Some shook their heads, already predicting Feng Shan's defeat. Even Yin Yue, who watched from the staging area, clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms.

Feng Shan grit his teeth, his entire body vibrating under the relentless assault. Every move he made to counter was brutally cut off, every attempt to strike left floundering in Xu Liang's wake. His rigid sword forms, carefully honed in training, felt sluggish, clunky, utterly ineffective against his opponent's sheer speed.

I can't keep up, he thought bitterly. I'll never match him at this pace…

But then, faintly, amidst the haze of his frustration, a voice echoed within him. It wasn't his opponent's taunts or the mutters of the disappointed crowd. It was Li Tian's—calm and certain.

"Control doesn't come from forcing your movements, Feng Shan. Rhythm creates control. Flow with it—not against it."

The memory of Li Tian's lessons washed over him like a cooling breeze in the stifling heat of the moment. Feng Shan tightened his grip on his sword—not to strike, but to steady himself. He forced himself to step back, just outside Xu Liang's range, lowering his blade slightly.

Xu Liang raised an eyebrow at the unanticipated retreat, his motions pausing only momentarily. "Backing down already?"

Instead of replying, Feng Shan took a long breath, his mind shifting. He stopped focusing solely on matching Xu Liang's speed and instead began to "listen" to his rhythm. Each movement of the spear wasn't random—it followed a pattern. Xu Liang surged forward, his steps light but strangely timed. Strike, retreat, shift right, strike again… the flow was there, hidden beneath the chaos.

Feng Shan planted his feet and smiled faintly.

Xu Liang lunged again, but this time, Feng Shan sidestepped the spear, rotating his blade smoothly as he intercepted the strike. Not with force, but with ease—redirecting the blow without stopping its motion. Surprise flashed across Xu Liang's face as Feng Shan's parry effortlessly neutralized his speed.

"Not bad," Xu Liang muttered, narrowing his eyes. He increased his pace, trying mid-spin feints and upward slashes, but Feng Shan's footwork shifted with the flow now. His movements, though not as fast, became precise, almost like water bending around Xu Liang's attacks. The rigid strikes that used to define his swordplay had softened, adopting a curvature and adaptability taught by Li Tian's unconventional exercises.

The crowd began to stir, whispers rising as Feng Shan held his own.

Then came the moment when everything turned. Xu Liang, clearly frustrated by Feng Shan's newfound composure, planted his feet for a decisive flurry, channeling his qi into the shaft of his spear until it hummed audibly. The strikes would be overwhelming, unpredictable—a burst of sheer power designed to break whatever flow Feng Shan had found.

Li Tian's voice returned to Feng Shan, another vivid memory from their training echoing through his mind.

"Create chaos before your enemy does, and they'll trip over their own control."

Chaos. It wasn't about breaking Xu Liang's strikes—it was about disrupting his rhythm entirely.

Feng Shan lowered his sword slightly, letting the tip brush against the ground. A murmur rippled through the crowd at what appeared to be a careless stance. But as Xu Liang charged, Feng Shan suddenly dragged the blade upward, scooping a burst of dirt and debris into the air. The dust cloud spiraled between them, its sudden unpredictability blurring Xu Liang's vision for only a moment—but it was enough.

Feng Shan exploded into motion, his blade flashing through the cloud like lightning, cutting off Xu Liang's surging strikes with impeccable timing. With his opponent rattled, he slipped behind the blinding spear shaft, closing the gap that Xu Liang had never allowed anyone to breach before.

When Feng Shan struck, his blade was not wild or rushed. It was clean, deliberate, and final.

A resounding clang echoed through the arena as Xu Liang's spear dropped to the ground, disarmed. Feng Shan held the edge of his blade mere inches from Xu Liang's neck—a position that declared the winner beyond any dispute.

Xu Liang stared at Feng Shan in stunned silence, his chest heaving as he struggled for words. Then, reluctantly, he dropped to a knee, bowing his head slightly. "You've… earned this," he admitted, his tone begrudging but respectful.

The audience erupted into cheers, not just at the result but at how unexpected and brilliant the battle had been.

Standing off to the side, Li Tian permitted himself a faint smile. He could see the subtle shift in Feng Shan's expression as the cheers washed over him—not arrogance, not an inflated ego, but a quiet, steady confidence.

When Feng Shan returned to his teacher's side later that day, he lowered himself into a deep bow. "Thank you, Teacher Li Tian. I see it now—the flow, the rhythm."

"You found it yourself," Li Tian replied with a smile. "I merely guided you to the door. You were the one who stepped through."

Feng Shan straightened, his fingers brushing against the hilt of his blade as though to anchor himself further. For so long, he had doubted his worth, crippled by the rigidity of tradition and his own failings. But now, standing before his teacher and his peers, he knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that he was stronger.

And stronger still, he would become.