The Weight of Forgotten Power
The battlefield stood still.
Xian Ye and Feng Jiao faced each other, both bruised but unbroken.
But something had changed.
The doubt in Feng Jiao's eyes was undeniable.
He had fought countless Outer Sect disciples. He had crushed dozens beneath his staff.
Yet the man standing before him—who should have been an easy target—was still here. Still standing.
And worse?
He wasn't even breathing heavily.
"He should be struggling."
"He should be injured."
"But he looks like he's just warming up."
Feng Jiao gritted his teeth.
Enough.
"Steel Body—Second Gate!"
The Breaking Point
A deep boom echoed through the Trial Grounds.
Feng Jiao's muscles swelled, his skin hardening like forged iron. A surge of Qi erupted from his body, shaking the earth beneath them.
This wasn't just raw strength.
This was a cultivation technique—one that reinforced the body to the limit.
The moment it activated, Xian Ye felt the difference.
Feng Jiao's presence grew heavier. His movements became sharper.
And then—he vanished.
A single burst of speed.
Xian Ye's senses screamed a fraction of a second too late.
The iron staff slammed into his chest.
Impact.
A shockwave rippled through the battlefield as Xian Ye was launched backward, his feet digging trenches into the ground as he skidded to a stop.
Pain flared through his ribs.
But he didn't fall.
Didn't waver.
And that was the moment Feng Jiao realized—
His opponent had taken a full-force blow… and barely reacted.
"No… that's not possible."
Feng Jiao surged forward, striking again—faster.
Xian Ye dodged the first blow. Blocked the second.
The third?
He caught it.
One hand.
The iron staff trembled against his grip, Qi-enhanced force grinding against sheer physical strength.
Feng Jiao's eyes widened.
"That… That should be impossible."
Xian Ye's grip tightened.
And then—he struck back.
A Monster Awakens
The first hit landed clean.
Feng Jiao barely had time to react before Xian Ye's blade came down—not like a sword, but like a hammer.
A single, overwhelming impact.
Feng Jiao's body lurched, his steel-reinforced form cracking under the force.
But Xian Ye wasn't done.
A second strike.
Then a third.
Each blow heavier than the last.
By the time Feng Jiao managed to block, he was already off balance.
And Xian Ye—for the first time in this fight—stepped forward.
"You wanted to see my strength?"
"Then take a good look."
He attacked.
No hesitation. No wasted movement.
Feng Jiao had fought hundreds of battles.
But this—
This wasn't a fight.
It was a demonstration.
The weight of each strike wasn't just power.
It was something deeper.
Something ancient.
As if Xian Ye's body was remembering a way of battle lost to time.
A forgotten instinct awakening with each exchange.
Feng Jiao staggered, his reinforced body finally buckling under the pressure.
"Impossible…"
Xian Ye's final blow drove him into the ground.
Dust erupted around them.
Silence.
Then—Feng Jiao coughed.
He tried to stand.
Failed.
His arms trembled, his Qi flickering unstable.
And finally—he collapsed.
The Fall of a Peak Disciple
The Trial Grounds were deathly silent.
Dozens of disciples had gathered to witness the fight.
They had expected Feng Jiao to win.
They had expected Xian Ye to break.
But instead—they had watched an impossible battle unfold.
And now?
The strongest Outer Sect disciple lay defeated.
And the one standing over him—the one no one had paid attention to before—hadn't even used Qi.
Xian Ye exhaled slowly, feeling the last remnants of battle fade from his limbs.
His heart was calm. His breath steady.
And in that moment, he knew—
The sect would never see him the same way again.
A Shadow Watches
From the distance, a pair of silver eyes observed the scene.
The disciple hidden in the shadows leaned against a broken pagoda, arms crossed.
"So, you really are waking up."
A small smile played on his lips.
"This is going to be interesting."
Then—he vanished.