Chapter 52 - Wulin vs Qiang Ming Part 1

Qiang Ming and Tang Wulin stood facing one another in the center of the simulated arena, thirty meters apart, but the tension between them made it feel as if they were breathing the same air. The faint hum of the simulation's energy field around the boundary of the arena faded into white noise as silence fell among the rest of the students. No one dared speak. No one even moved.

It felt inevitable. As if from the moment they had first met, this fight had been written into the world.

Qiang Ming's hands tightened around the handle of the Blackstone Abyss Hammer. His back was straight, chest bare and rising with deep breaths. A light shimmered over his purple eyes as he observed Tang Wulin's stance.

Tang Wulin mirrored him in composure, though his face bore a trace of concern. His Blue Silver Grass coiled around his legs, ready to be unleashed. He could feel the pressure Qiang Ming emitted — it wasn't the oppressive bloodlust that had overtaken him before, but a refined and sharpened edge of experience and force. It reminded Wulin of the first time he'd been thrown into a real life-or-death fight.

"Ready?" Wulin asked.

Qiang Ming smiled faintly. "Been ready."

They moved at once.

Wulin's Blue Silver Grass erupted from beneath him, whipping through the air in a spiraling web of thickened vines, all heading straight toward Qiang Ming. In the same breath, Qiang Ming rushed forward, his body low, his footwork dancing between the vines with practiced precision.

Their styles clashed almost poetically — one a master of control and terrain, the other a master of overwhelming strength and timing.

Qiang Ming ducked under one vine and vaulted over the next, his hammer sweeping in broad, menacing arcs that forced Wulin to step back and realign. His aim was clear: get close enough for a strike that would force Wulin to take him seriously.

But Wulin wasn't unprepared. His Blue Silver Grass didn't simply restrain — it guided. Wulin used it like strings to manipulate momentum, setting up dead zones and redirection paths. Each time Qiang Ming thought he had a line of attack, another strand would come alive and alter his trajectory.

For every attack Qiang Ming attempted, Wulin had an answer. For every answer Wulin gave, Qiang Ming pressed harder, faster, stronger.

"Not bad," Qiang Ming muttered after a particularly close feint ended with a near brush against Wulin's face. "You got sharper."

"You too," Wulin said, breath clipped but steady. "But you're not the only one who trained like hell."

Blue Silver Grass sprang from the ground in a wide net, attempting to entangle Qiang Ming from all sides. Qiang Ming narrowed his eyes, rotated his shoulders, and spun. The Blackstone Abyss Hammer cut through the grass like a scythe through wheat, but it didn't free him entirely — one vine managed to wrap around his ankle, slowing him just enough for Wulin to close the distance.

A golden shimmer passed across Tang Wulin's arm as his scales erupted into view, his right hand warping into a massive, razor-sharp dragon claw.

Qiang Ming's eyes sharpened.

He twisted his body, kicking off the ground with his free leg and using the vine-bound ankle as an anchor. His momentum changed, launching him in a crescent arc straight at Wulin, the Blackstone Abyss Hammer glowing faintly with purple energy — the signature of SoulQuake Blow.

Wulin didn't dodge.

With a roar, the golden claw rose to meet the hammer.

Clang!

The shockwave from the impact kicked up a dust storm across the arena. Students watching from outside instinctively shielded their eyes as their clothes fluttered from the force.

Qiang Ming's eyes widened. It didn't break through? The armor-piercing force of SoulQuake Blow should've torn through Wulin's body. But the scales… the claw…

"You've got some kind of cheat in that body of yours…" he hissed, stunned.

Wulin grunted under the strain, holding the hammer at bay. "You're not the only one who breaks expectations."

Then, with a surge of energy, his Blue Silver Grass retracted — not from the battlefield, but from around Qiang Ming's ankle. The release of tension pulled Qiang Ming forward by his own strength, his balance thrown off for half a second.

That was all Wulin needed.

With a war cry, Wulin let go of the hammer, letting it fall sideways, and pivoted his weight. The golden dragon claw shimmered brighter as it struck Qiang Ming square across the face.

The impact echoed like thunder.

Qiang Ming went flying.

He crashed into the ground with a dull thud, rolling once, twice, before skidding to a stop in a haze of dust and torn turf. His chest rose and fell rapidly. One arm twitched. The hammer, released from his grip, dematerialized into light and vanished into nothingness.

The entire arena held its breath.

Wulin took a single step forward, but didn't move closer. He waited. Watching.

Across the arena, Qiang Ming lay still.