On the steel arena, Gao Han and Duan Lang stood thirty paces apart, their gazes locked in silent confrontation.
After their earlier skirmish, Duan Lang regarded Gao Han with far greater wariness. For all the latter's seemingly shallow cultivation, he sensed a dangerous aura radiating from him—one that rivaled Duan Qianchou's, even when Gao Han held his power in check.
You Canghai watched the two stand wordless, judging them ready, and declared the duel begun.
No sooner had his voice faded than Duan Lang's eyes blazed with a ghastly green light, cold and utterly merciless…
Gao Han let out a cold, sharp smirk. "Fascinating." Battle intent erupted from his core, surging skyward like a raging tide.
Duan Lang curled his fingers into savage claws, his steps quickening into a gust of wind as he shot toward Gao Han like a loosed arrow, slashing viciously at him. His razor-sharp nails sliced through the air as though rending the very void apart.
Faced with such ferocious force, Gao Han activated Phantom Stride, vanishing from his position and reappearing at Duan Lang's flank. The crowd below gaped in shock.
"What movement art is this? Can it be the Scroll of Heavenly Flight?"
"No, the Scroll of Heavenly Flight is only wielded in midair. Gao Han clearly maneuvers upon the ground!"
"Might the Misty Sect hold another secret movement art—a Ground Strider Scroll?"
"Earth-Shaking Might!"
Gao Han struck toward Duan Lang with a palm infused with ninety percent of his power. True essence whirled violently around his hand, forging a thick layer of frost into a colossal icy palm that crashed toward his foe.
The force was earth-shattering, shredding the surrounding air and leaving vacuumed voids in its wake.
CLANG!
Palm met claw, and a wave of invisible, crushing ripples burst outward from the point of impact.
Gao Han staggered back three steps, the ice encasing his hand shattering into fine, glistening shards that scattered at his feet.
Duan Lang, the moment he saw Gao Han vanish, had twisted midair in an impossible redirection, swiping his claws directly at Gao Han's new position. The brutal collision had shattered the ice on Gao Han's hand, while Duan Lang himself was sent flying backward. Teetering on the arena's edge, he dug his right hand into the steel surface, letting out a shrill screech of metal grinding against metal before halting just in time.
Gao Han stared at the pale gouges marking his palm, stunned inwardly. He had poured ninety percent of his power into that strike, his true essence forging an icy barrier to bolster his defense.
That ice was so dense that even a first-layer True Essence warrior wielding a weapon could not shatter it—and yet Duan Lang had turned it to dust with a single claw, leaving marks on his hand. His strength was nothing short of terrifying.
What was more, his reflexes and speed were inconceivable. From the fluctuations of Duan Lang's aura, Gao Han sensed he was no longer acting as a man, but as a pure, ravenous beast—brutal, savage, and unrelenting.
From the stands, Duan Qianchou sneered coldly. "Lang is one of the death warriors bred by my Duan clan, loyal only to our family. Since childhood, they have been caged and forced to fight wolves day and night. Thus their reflexes and combat instincts are identical to those of wild beasts. Even I must fight with all my power to stand against him."
The instant Duan Lang's feet touched the ground, he sprang toward Gao Han like a coiled spring, his hands morphing into wolven claws that carved ten dazzling white streaks through the air.
Gao Han's battle intent blazed hotter than ever. "Now this is worthy of my time. Thousand Searches!"
He weaved left and right, evading Duan Lang's claws and appearing behind him.
But the fight was far from simple. No sooner had Gao Han materialized at his back than Duan Lang pushed off the ground in reverse, his claws slashing toward Gao Han once more.
"Roaring Surge! Mountain Stream!"
The air around them froze solid, frigid cold surging from Gao Han's palms like a roaring torrent toward Duan Lang.
Duan Lang's claws moved like ten peerless swords, slicing the frost into fragments and pressing his attack onward.
CLANG!
Duan Lang's claws clashed with Gao Han's palms, yet he could advance no further, forced back step by step. Wave after wave of bitter cold radiated from Gao Han's hand, crashing relentlessly into him.
The frost turned Duan Lang's hands a ghastly blue, his power frozen bit by bit until it was all but spent. He was driven back two steps, his hands and forearms encased in ice.
Gao Han stepped forward in pursuit, unleashing the Cold Mountain Palms from its first form. The art came alive in his hands; each strike bore the weight of a mountain pressing down on Duan Lang, imposing yet fluid, every form linking seamlessly without pause, forcing Duan Lang into a relentless retreat.
From the stands, Nian Hua gasped in awe. "The pinnacle of the Cold Mountain Palms—the Mountain-River Realm! He has comprehended its ultimate state!"
The Cold Mountain Palms were a high-grade Mortal-Rank palm art of the Misty Sect, practiced by countless disciples, yet nearly none had ever grasped its pinnacle—the Mountain-River Realm.
It was said that one who attained this realm possessed an extraordinarily lofty martial enlightenment. Yet the Cold Mountain Palms were merely a Mortal-Rank art; why would a warrior who had reached the Mountain-River Realm bother with such a technique? And to attain that realm through this art alone was no trivial feat.
Few had ever mastered the Cold Mountain Palms to Gao Han's level—none, in truth, within the entire Misty Sect.
Duan Lang's gaze grew more savage, the green light in his eyes burning brighter. Duan Qianchou's face darkened—none of Duan Lang's attacks had so much as scratched Gao Han, whose strength far exceeded his expectations.
AWOO!
Duan Lang, pinned under Gao Han's assault, let out an inhuman, beastly roar. The green light in his eyes streaked with crimson, and he charged blindly at Gao Han, ignoring the palms striking his chest.
CLANG… SHRED!
Gao Han's palm landed solidly on Duan Lang's chest, yet the latter did not dodge. His razor-sharp claws dug deep into Gao Han's arms.
Gao Han reacted with lightning speed, channeling soul power to form a layer of ice over his arms, narrowly avoiding having his limbs torn off. Though his arms were spared, his snow-white sleeves were shredded to pieces, and the ice shattered moments later.
Before Gao Han could recover, Duan Lang—sent flying by the strike—charged again. Blood trickled from his mouth; he had clearly been grievously wounded, yet his attacks grew only more frenzied.
He fought like a wild beast, no technique or rhythm to his strikes. Gao Han unleashed "Surging Tides!"
Layer upon layer of icy waves crashed toward Duan Lang, but he did not evade—he threw himself into the frost, his claws slashing furiously at the ice.
His arms moved so fast they blurred, only a hazy shadow visible amid flying ice shards. At last, he even slammed his head against the thick ice waves.
BOOM!
The ice waves collapsed. Duan Lang's hands were mangled and bloodied, yet he charged at Gao Han even faster. Countless white claw streaks cut through the air, flecked with crimson—his own blood.
The claw shadows raked across the steel arena, carving deep gouges three feet into its surface, stained with his blood.
Gao Han's eyes widened in shock. This arena was forged of pure, refined steel, far harder than any stone. Comparing stone to steel was like comparing tofu to solid wood—they existed on entirely different planes.
A single claw strike could gouge steel; its destructive power was self-evident.
The dense, relentless claw shadows left no room to evade with Thousand Searches. Gao Han cursed his lack of defensive techniques, vowing to return to his sect after the tournament to learn a defensive art and refine his physique to the first layer of True Essence.
He dared not face the frenzied claws with his flesh alone. Even ice covering his body would not hold against their sharpness—he would be torn to shreds.
Gao Han drew his Steelpoint Sword, gripping it tightly. He wove soul power around his blade, spinning it into a whirling disc that churned the air into frigid ice pellets. The temperature on the arena plummeted sharply.
A frigid ice tornado erupted before him, swallowing the claw shadows and freezing them solid. The ice not only shattered the strikes but also slowed Duan Lang's movements to a crawl. His arms swung slower and slower until they finally stilled.
"Freeze."
Gao Han halted the whirlwind and slashed his sword toward Duan Lang. The ice pellets rained down upon him, coalescing to encase him in a solid, gleaming ice sculpture.
"What is this power?!"
"Actual, tangible ice! How has he wrought this?!"
"Is this a secret art of the Misty Sect?!"
The crowd was stunned senseless by the battle—by Duan Lang's suicidal, beastly fighting style, and even more so by Gao Han's overwhelming power. Duan Lang was a third-layer True Essence expert, no ordinary one at that.
By his display, even Nian Hua might not have defeated him—and yet he could not withstand a single strike from Gao Han.
Just as everyone thought the duel was over, Duan Lang stirred within the ice.
His eyes turned fully crimson, and scarlet true essence surged from his body, writhing within the frost before wrapping around his head and hands, forming searing crimson masses.
Countless sharp spikes jutted from the crimson energy, piercing through the ice with ease.
Crimson essence billowed from his mouth and nose, morphing his head into that of a monstrous wolf, its maw split open to reveal razor-sharp fangs glinting with a bone-chilling cold. Red wolven fur covered the beastly head, while the crimson energy on his hands forged true wolven claws, his fingers transforming into deadly, razor-sharp talons.
"Essence Manifestation: Wolf Form!" The crowd gasped in unison, too astonished to utter another word.