Five days had passed since the disciples of the Black Dragon faction began their cultivation training, and the change within the Black Dragon Palace was impossible to miss.
The once quiet training courtyard now echoed constantly with movement. Footsteps scraped across stone, weapons clashed in sharp bursts, and waves of Qi rippled through the air like heat distortions rising from sunlit ground. What had once been a place of stillness had transformed into something alive—every corner filled with effort, every breath shaped by discipline.
Sunlight poured down through the circular opening in the roof, forming long golden beams that stretched across the arena floor. Dust drifted lazily through those rays, catching the light as if suspended in time, only to be scattered again whenever a surge of Qi cut through the air. The towering pillars surrounding the courtyard cast heavy shadows, dividing the space into zones of brightness and shade, where disciples moved in and out like shifting figures in a battlefield.
Within those five days, the young disciples had begun to feel something new within themselves.
Their movements had grown lighter, no longer burdened by hesitation. Their reflexes had sharpened, reacting before thought could fully form. Even the flow of Qi within their bodies had become steadier—less chaotic, more controlled, like a stream slowly learning its path.
Most of them had already begun to understand the true benefit of their cultivation techniques.
Except for Lu Mao.
He stood quietly near one of the outer pillars, his back resting lightly against the cool stone. His arms were folded loosely, posture relaxed, but his eyes were anything but idle. They moved constantly, tracking every exchange in the courtyard—the shift of weight in a stance, the timing of a strike, the subtle ripple of Qi before an attack.
Five days. Five nights of effort—and still, he had not managed to complete even a single full circulation of the Eight Gate method.
Each attempt followed the same pattern. The Qi would gather within him, begin to move through his meridians… and then falter. As if something within his body rejected the path itself. The flow would break before completing the cycle.
Not once had it succeeded.
His gaze lingered for a moment, then shifted back to the others.
Because while he struggled, they had advanced.
Marco was the most obvious change. His already powerful frame now carried a density that went beyond muscle, as if something beneath his skin had hardened and reinforced him from within. Earlier that morning, Lu Mao had watched him drive his fist into a thick stone slab.
The impact hadn't just cracked it—it had split clean through.
Marco had simply shaken his hand afterward, as though testing the sensation, before moving on without concern. Combined with his curved blade and raw strength, he had become one of the most dangerous fighters among them.
Yan Mei stood at the opposite end of that spectrum.
If Marco was power, she had become speed.
Her movements flowed seamlessly, each step placed with precision, her body transitioning from one motion to the next without wasted effort. The whip in her hand no longer seemed like a separate weapon—it moved as if it were part of her, striking from angles that were difficult to predict.
A simple flick of her wrist was enough.
Her agility had grown to a level where even Marco had admitted, in private, that catching her in a real fight would be difficult.
Bao Fu had changed as well, though in a less obvious way.
At first glance, he still appeared the same—round, slightly sluggish. But the illusion broke the moment he moved. His steps were quicker now, more deliberate. His timing sharper. More importantly, his explosive orbs had improved.
They were no longer unstable bursts of energy.
They were controlled.
He could sustain Qi within them, layer different types together, and release them with intent. His traps had become more efficient, less wasteful, and far more dangerous.
Then there was Chen Yuan.
Of all of them, his growth was perhaps the most unsettling.
His swordsmanship had refined into something precise and efficient. Even the simplest swing of his blade now carried weight, the air itself reacting to it. Earlier, while practicing alone, one of his strikes had split a thick wooden training post clean in two.
Lu Mao had watched from the side, silent.
At this rate… Chen Yuan might truly reach a level where such feats became effortless.
And Lu Mao—
He exhaled quietly.
Had nothing to show.
Not yet.
Yet strangely, there was no bitterness in him. No frustration gnawing at his thoughts. Instead, something else stirred beneath the surface.
Curiosity.
Excitement.
Even as he lagged behind, he wanted to test himself against them. To feel the difference not through observation, but through direct experience. After all, cultivation wasn't only about progress—it was also about understanding where you stood.
Which was why, when Li Xian suggested duels, he had refused to sit out.
Across the courtyard, Li Xian stepped into the center of the arena.
Sunlight cascaded around her, illuminating her silver robes and the faint sway of her long hair, which shimmered like strands of moonlight. Yet despite the warmth of the light, her presence remained unchanged—calm, cold, and completely unshaken.
Her gaze swept across the disciples.
"Today marks the fifth day since your training began."
The group straightened immediately.
"I have watched your progress carefully."
Her eyes moved across Marco, Yan Mei, Bao Fu, and Chen Yuan before pausing briefly on Lu Mao.
"I must say… I am impressed."
A faint pause.
"Except for Lu Mao, for obvious reasons."
A soft ripple of laughter passed through the group. Lu Mao scratched his head, unbothered.
"However," Li Xian continued, her tone sharpening slightly, "Lu Mao has insisted on participating in today's duels."
Her gaze hardened.
"If any of you face him, you will not go easy on him."
Lu Mao nodded once. "That's exactly what I want."
She studied him for a moment, then gave a small approving nod.
"These duels will show you something important," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "They will show you what proper Qi circulation brings to a cultivator. They will show you why choosing the correct cultivation technique is crucial for your growth."
Her voice grew firmer.
"But do not assume you are the only ones improving."
The air seemed to tighten slightly.
"Your rivals and enemies are training just as hard."
A brief silence followed before she concluded, "The best way to measure your progress is through confrontation."
A spark of excitement flickered through the disciples.
Li Xian raised her hand.
"The duels will begin now."
She gestured toward the center.
"First match—Chen Yuan. Marco."
Both stepped forward immediately.
Chen Yuan unsheathed his sword in one smooth motion, the blade catching the sunlight. Marco drew his curved blade, the metal gleaming as he rolled his shoulders once, loosening his stance.
Li Xian lowered her hand.
"Begin."
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then Qi erupted.
Marco's aura surged outward, heavy and forceful, like a furnace bursting open. His muscles tightened as power flooded through his body, reinforcing every motion. Chen Yuan's Qi responded differently—cool, sharp, controlled. A faint blue energy wrapped around his blade, humming softly as if resonating with his intent.
They watched each other for a brief moment.
Then Marco moved.
He exploded forward, his foot striking the stone with a sharp crack as he surged ahead. His blade came down in a powerful vertical arc, carrying enough force to split stone.
Lu Mao's eyes narrowed.
Fast—but not unstoppable.
Chen Yuan stepped aside at the last moment, his movement clean and efficient. His sword rose in a precise counter, cutting toward Marco's neck. Marco twisted mid-motion, evading just in time as steel sliced through empty air.
They separated again.
Reset.
Marco held overwhelming power. Chen Yuan wielded deadly precision. Both moved with speed that blurred the line between offense and defense.
Chen Yuan attacked again.
"Cut of the Thousand Swords!"
His blade fractured into motion. One strike became several, several became many, until it seemed as if countless blades descended at once, each carrying a sharp edge of Qi.
Marco didn't retreat.
He slammed his fist into the ground.
"Mountain Hold!"
A shockwave burst outward, invisible but undeniable. The incoming strikes shattered against it, scattering as the force pushed Chen Yuan backward.
But Marco was already moving.
Closing the distance.
His blade swept in a wide arc toward Chen Yuan's midsection. Chen Yuan barely managed to block. Steel collided with a violent crack, and the impact sent him sliding backward across the stone floor before dropping to one knee.
His arm trembled slightly.
Lu Mao's gaze sharpened.
That wasn't just strength.
That was pressure.
Marco rested his blade against his shoulder, a grin forming. "Don't stop now. Come again."
Chen Yuan exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I will."
He surged forward again.
This time his movements were tighter, more controlled. His sword carved through the air in rapid succession, each strike precise, each angle difficult to predict. Marco gave ground step by step, blocking each attack as sparks burst into the air with every clash.
The rhythm of battle quickened.
From the sidelines, Bao Fu suddenly shouted, "Yeah, Marco! Get him!"
Lu Mao let out a short laugh. Yan Mei covered her mouth, shoulders shaking slightly. Even Li Xian watched with a faint smile as the courtyard filled with the sharp ringing of steel.
Then—
A shift.
Marco's timing slipped.
Just slightly.
Chen Yuan's eyes sharpened.
His blade shot forward, precise and unforgiving.
Marco reacted instantly. "Iron Fist!"
His arm hardened as he struck the incoming blade—but Chen Yuan had anticipated it. The moment steel met flesh, Qi surged outward in a concentrated burst.
A sharp shockwave exploded from the point of contact.
Marco staggered half a step.
A thin line of red appeared across his cheek.
They separated immediately.
"Stop."
Li Xian's voice cut through the courtyard.
Both froze.
Marco touched his cheek, his fingers brushing against the faint trace of blood.
Just a scratch.
But enough.
"As per the rules," Li Xian said calmly, "the first to land a mark wins."
She turned slightly.
"Victory—Chen Yuan."
Marco exhaled, then smiled. "Well… that was worth it."
Chen Yuan sheathed his sword, stepping back as the tension left his shoulders. Marco moved aside, clearly energized despite the loss.
Then Chen Yuan pointed his sword toward Bao Fu, a grin spreading across his face.
"You're next. I've been waiting years to beat you."
Bao Fu gasped dramatically. "You traitor!"
Laughter erupted across the courtyard.
Lu Mao leaned against the pillar, smiling.
That fight had been incredible.
And now…
It was time for the next duel.