Chapter 6: Sparks and Scorch Marks

The Whispering Willow Courtyard buzzed like a kicked hornet's nest at dawn. Aspirants spilled from doorways, bleary-eyed and clutching practice weapons or hastily consumed breakfast buns. The scent of steamed buns and nervous sweat mingled with the damp earth smell of the courtyard. Yao Jun, Bao Siwen, Tang Huai, and their unexpected poultry companion – now affectionately dubbed "Lady Cluckles" by Bao Siwen – navigated the chaos.

"Move it, hayseeds!" snarled a tall, sharp-featured youth in finely embroidered blue silks, shoving past a group of wide-eyed country boys. Jin Feng, Yao Jun recalled from the Jade Disc queue – one of the nobles who hadn't frozen solid at the gates, but whose sneer was just as permanent. His entourage, Li Bo (stocky, perpetually scowling) and Xiao Mei (sharp-eyed, carrying a fan she used like a weapon to clear space), flanked him. "The Early Sparring Court waits for no one, least of all ditch-diggers."

Bao Siwen puffed out his chest. "Who you callin' hayseed, silk-britches? This ditch-digger could plant you headfirst!" He hefted his hammer meaningfully. Lady Cluckles, perched precariously on his shoulder, ruffled her feathers indignantly.

Jin Feng's lip curled. "Save the peasant bravado for the manure pile, oaf. The real cultivators have training to attend." He deliberately bumped Tang Huai's shoulder, sending a cascade of scrolls tumbling. "Watch it, bookworm."

Tang Huai sighed, adjusting his spectacles as he knelt to gather his papers. "Statistically, Jin Feng, unnecessary aggression correlates strongly with early elimination in the trials. Also, you creased my treatise on 'Qi Flow Dynamics in Confined Spaces'."

Xiao Mei tittered behind her fan. "Oh, he's adorable. Like a little lost scholar."

Yao Jun helped Tang Huai, shooting Jin Feng a dark look. The Void Flame gave a lazy, cold pulse in his chest, unimpressed. "Just walk away, Jin Feng."

Jin Feng stopped, turning slowly. His eyes, dark and calculating, swept over Yao Jun. "Ah. The screamer. The one who made the Jade Disc throw a tantrum. Still trembling from your nightmares, peasant?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper meant only for Yao Jun. "They say Wu Tian took in strays. Looks like he scraped the bottom of the barrel with you. What did you do? Polish his sandals? Weep for scraps?"

Something cold and sharp, sharper than Liu Qian'er's ice, lanced through Yao Jun. Not just anger, but a fierce, protective heat flaring from the borrowed memories – a deep loyalty to the old master. The Void Flame stirred, responding to the spike of emotion. "Don't," Yao Jun said, his voice tight. "Don't speak of Master Wu Tian."

Jin Feng smirked, sensing a wound. "Or what? You'll scream again? Cry? Your precious master is ash, boy. Gone. And you? You're nothing. A freak the Disc couldn't even understand. A stain on this Academy before you've even begun." He leaned in, his breath hot on Yao Jun's face. "I'll make sure everyone knows it."

The cold fury coalesced. Yao Jun's fists clenched. The Void Flame hummed, a low, dangerous vibration deep within him. "Shut. Up."

Li Bo chuckled, a low, grating sound. "Ooh, the mouse squeaks."

Jin Feng laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Pathetic." He turned to walk away. "Enjoy sweeping the floors, Wu Tian's last charity case."

It was the "charity case" that did it. The casual dismissal of the bond Yao Jun felt echoing within him, the insult to the memory of the kind eyes in the flames. The Void Flame surged, not in defense, but in anger.

"I said SHUT UP!" Yao Jun roared. The sound wasn't entirely his own; it resonated with a deeper, colder timbre. He didn't think. He just moved.

He lunged, not with a technique from Yao Jun's memories, but with raw, desperate fury. His fist, fueled by the strange strength of the borrowed body and the icy rage of the Flame, shot towards Jin Feng's smirking face.

Jin Feng, trained and arrogant, reacted with contemptuous ease. He sidestepped, his own hand lashing out – not a punch, but an open-palm strike aimed at Yao Jun's chest. It connected with a sickening thud of flesh and bone.

Yao Jun felt ribs creak. Pain exploded, white-hot and blinding. He gasped, stumbling back, the world tilting. The Void Flame recoiled inside him, the cold shock momentarily eclipsing the anger.

Jin Feng looked down at his palm, then at Yao Jun crumpling, a cruel satisfaction spreading across his face. "See? Nothing. Just noise and—"

He never finished. The crowd around them gasped. Jin Feng's eyes widened in shock. Yao Jun, driven by pain, humiliation, and the desperate, clawing need to not be nothing, to not let Wu Tian's memory be spat on, did the only thing his stunned, desperate mind could grasp.

He spat.

A gob of blood-tinged saliva hit Jin Feng square on his pristine silk robe, right over the embroidered family crest.

Silence. Absolute, stunned silence fell over the section of the courtyard. Even Lady Cluckles stopped clucking. Jin Feng stared at the stain, his face purpling with apoplectic rage. The insult wasn't just physical; it was a profound, public humiliation.

"You... you FILTHY LITTLE—!" Jin Feng's voice was a strangled shriek. He drew himself up, trembling with fury. "I challenge you! Here! Now! Duel Arena! First blood! Or are you too much of a coward, Wu Tian's stain?"

The formal challenge hung in the air, cutting through the morning bustle. Elder Kael, materializing seemingly from nowhere with his usual unnerving silence, stood nearby, his flinty eyes observing. He said nothing, merely watched. The challenge was legal; the insult public.

Bao Siwen surged forward. "Jun didn't mean—!"

"He spat on my family's honor!" Jin Feng screamed, pointing a shaking finger at the stain. "He accepts, or he is named coward and expelled for dishonor!"

Yao Jun clutched his aching chest, tasting blood. He looked from Jin Feng's livid face to Elder Kael's impassive one. He saw the crowd watching – curious, judgmental, some sympathetic (mostly fellow "hayseeds"), others gleeful (Jin Feng's circle). He saw Tang Huai frantically calculating odds, Mei Ling standing silently at the edge of the crowd, her blindfolded face unreadable.

The Void Flame pulsed, cold and insistent. Not nothing. Fight.

He pushed himself upright, wincing. His voice, when it came, was rough but clear, cutting through the murmurs. "I accept."

The Crucible Ring

The Duel Arena wasn't a grand coliseum, but a simple, circular pit of packed earth twenty yards across, ringed by tiered stone benches. Word spread like wildfire. By the time Yao Jun and Jin Feng faced each other across the compacted dirt, flanked by Senior Disciple referees, the benches were packed. Aspirants jostled for space; even a few bored-looking inner disciples peered down with mild interest.

Bao Siwen sat front and center, Lady Cluckles tucked under his arm like a feathered stress ball. "Kick his silk-covered butt, Jun!" he bellowed, drawing glares from Jin Feng's supporters. Tang Huai sat beside him, scribbling furiously on a fresh scroll. "Observing environmental factors and opponent's likely elemental affinity... probable metal or earth... Jun's tactical disadvantage currently estimated at 87.3%..."

Mei Ling stood apart, leaning against a stone pillar near the arena entrance, seemingly uninterested, yet her posture was alert. Yao Jun spotted Liu Qian'er seated high up, isolated in a pocket of cold air, her expression unreadable. Elder Kael stood near the arena master's platform, his gaze fixed on Yao Jun.

Jin Feng sneered, flexing his hands. He wore light leather practice armor now, his silk robe discarded. His fingers shimmered faintly, taking on a dull metallic sheen – Iron Skin Technique, Body Tempering realm, likely high stage. "Ready to bleed, peasant? Or will you scream and run first?"

Yao Jun said nothing. He wore only his simple tunic and trousers. He felt the throb of his ribs, the cold knot of fear in his gut, and the deeper, colder pulse of the Void Flame. He had no armor. No weapon but his fists and the terrifying, unknown thing inside him.

The Senior Disciple referee raised a hand. "Combatants! First blood or yield! Begin!"

Jin Feng moved like a striking viper. No posturing. Pure aggression. He closed the distance in a blur, metallic fist driving straight for Yao Jun's injured chest. Yao Jun threw himself sideways, the fist whistling past his ribs. Pain flared anew. He stumbled.

Jin Feng pressed, relentless. Fists like hammer blows rained down. Yao Jun dodged, weaved, blocked with forearms that screamed in protest. He was fast – Yao Jun's body remembered some footwork – but Jin Feng was stronger, more skilled, and fueled by fury. A glancing blow caught Yao Jun's shoulder, spinning him. Another slammed into his kidney, driving the air from his lungs. He hit the dirt, gasping.

The crowd roared – Jin Feng's supporters cheering, others groaning. "Get up, sparrow!" Bao Siwen yelled, crushing Lady Cluckles slightly. The chicken squawked.

Yao Jun rolled, scrambling back as Jin Feng stalked forward. "Pathetic," Jin Feng spat. "Wu Tian must have been senile."

Rage, white-hot and pure, cut through the pain. Yao Jun surged to his feet. He charged, not away, but at Jin Feng, a wordless cry tearing from his throat. It was a fool's move.

Jin Feng laughed, stepping into the charge, his metallic fist cocked back for a finishing blow aimed at Yao Jun's face.

Too slow. Too weak. NOTHING. The thoughts screamed in Yao Jun's head. Protect the memory. Fight!

Desperation.

He didn't think of a technique. He thought of the cold. The absolute cold. The negation. He thought of Jin Feng's sneer unmaking.

He reached inwards, not to Yao Jun's muscles, but to the cold singularity behind his ribs. He pulled.

The Void Flame answered.

It wasn't a controlled release. It was a dam bursting. A torrent of absolute cold, darker than midnight, erupted from his outstretched palm as he instinctively threw it up to block the incoming metallic fist.

There was no explosion of light. No roar of flame. Just a silent, localized implosion of heat and energy.

Jin Feng's metallic fist met the inky blackness.

A sound like shattering glass mixed with tearing metal ripped through the arena. Jin Feng screamed – a raw, agonized sound utterly different from his earlier mockery. He recoiled, clutching his arm. The metallic sheen was gone. His hand and forearm were a ruin. The skin wasn't burned; it was grey, lifeless, cracked like old porcelain. Tendons stood out starkly, frozen black. His fingers were twisted claws. Frost, thick and white, crawled up his arm towards his elbow.

Silence. Utter, profound silence. The cheering died instantly. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Jin Feng collapsed to his knees, cradling his ruined arm, whimpering in shock and agony. His eyes, wide with terror, stared at Yao Jun's hand.

Yao Jun stood frozen, his own hand outstretched. Wreathed not in fire, but in shifting, liquid darkness. It pulsed once, coldly, hungrily, before flowing back into his skin like ink into water, leaving no mark. The intense cold radiating from the point of contact faded, leaving only the packed earth of the arena scorched in a perfect, hand-shaped patch of dull, lifeless grey. The dirt wasn't charred; it was dead, all potential for life extinguished.

The silence stretched. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at Yao Jun, filled with naked horror, disbelief, and the dawning realization that the Jade Disc hadn't lied. He wasn't just a screamer. He was something else. Something wrong.

Bao Siwen's jaw hung open, Lady Cluckles forgotten. Tang Huai's pen hovered over his scroll, ink dripping. Mei Ling stood perfectly still, a faint, unreadable expression on her face. Liu Qian'er's glacial eyes were wide, fixed on the dead patch of earth.

Elder Kael stepped forward, his face granite. He looked from Jin Feng's ruined arm being hastily tended by medics, to the scorch mark, then to Yao Jun. His voice, when it came, cut through the silence like a knife.

"First blood is drawn. Victory to Yao Jun."

He paused, his flinty eyes boring into Yao Jun, who stood trembling, not from exertion, but from the terrifying aftermath of what he'd unleashed, the cold ember in his chest now a satisfied, watchful weight.

"The mark of the void," Elder Kael stated, loud enough for all to hear, gesturing to the dead earth. "Remember it."

He turned and walked away, leaving Yao Jin standing alone in the center of the suddenly hostile arena, the taste of ash and void in his mouth, the cheers replaced by a low, fearful murmur. He hadn't just won a duel. He'd painted a target on his back with darkness itself. The cheerful disciple was dead. The void had announced its arrival. And the Academy was watching, now with fear in its eyes.