Read Novel Full Chapter 163: Five-Year Tournament (8)
Chapter 163: Five-Year Tournament (8)
"Germinate!"
The mist of pure blood that Yan Ling had spread reacted violently.
Each particle shone and expanded, instantly forming a dense web of pure and living Blood Qi filaments that filled the space.
It was as if the air itself had become a living, sensitive network, each thread an extension of Yan Ling’s senses and will.
Kai, trapped within the web, felt his own blood inside his body begin to churn, responding to the call of the external network.
His intent, strong but less refined, struggled to maintain control. He tried to tear through the threads with bursts of Qi, but they regenerated rapidly, fueled by Yan Ling’s catalyst blood and her superior mastery over the very essence of the power.
It was a battle of wills now, fought through the blood inside and outside their bodies.
Kai’s face twisted with effort, the muscles in his neck bulging. He was losing ground. The network began to contract, and with it, his control over his own circulation wavered.
His heart beat irregularly. His vision darkened.
Yan Ling, pale but determined, took the final step.
With a final gesture, she pulled all the threads of the network inward, directing the crushing pressure not to crush Kai, but to briefly extinguish his consciousness, severing his connection to his own blood by overwhelming it with her intent.
Kai let out a muffled groan. His eyes rolled back. He did not fall immediately but remained standing, trembling, completely disoriented, and unable to control or coordinate a single muscle.
Yan Ling, exhausted, lowered her hands. The network dissipated.
"Surrender." She said, her voice hoarse but clear.
Kai could not speak, but his body, without control, began to tilt to the side. Before he fell, a servant intervened, holding him up. He was clearly incapacitated.
"Winner, Yan Ling of the Resources Branch." Dong Zhen announced, a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes.
The victory had not been easy or clean, but it had demonstrated a deep and strategic mastery over blood that surpassed Kai’s brute force.
Now, only one battle remained. The arena, impregnated with the smell of blood and dissipated energy, drew everyone’s gaze.
The silence in the arena was different now. After the strategic and brutal fight between Yan Ling and Kai, the tension in the air was as sharp as the blade that Li Fen silently spun between his fingers.
He was no longer unarmed. A short, sinuous dagger, black in color, rested in his right hand.
Kyrian, in contrast, seemed unconcerned, his hands empty, his eyes already assuming that deep crimson that felt slightly unsettling.
The two descended into the arena.
"Begin." Dong Zhen’s voice cut through the anticipation.
Li Fen did not attack immediately. He began to walk.
A fluid and silent movement, walking in a wide circle around Kyrian.
His feet cast no shadow on the stone ground. It was the posture of a predator assessing a strange prey, one that seemed completely oblivious to everything.
Kyrian did not move to follow him. He merely turned his head, his eyes following Li Fen’s path.
To the audience, it seemed almost comical. A deadly hunter circling a statue.
But to the sharp eyes and spiritual senses of the leaders, it was far more than that.
Li Fen was trying to find an opening. But Kyrian seemed to have no weak points.
It was true. To Kyrian, Li Fen was not a moving silhouette. He was a living map of arteries and veins, a river of vital power whose currents accelerated and slowed.
Whose whirlpools betrayed intent even before the muscle contracted. Kyrian saw Li Fen’s blood flow and how it prepared him to explode.
Li Fen frowned almost imperceptibly. Something was wrong. Kyrian was relaxed, almost careless, yet every micro-adjustment of posture, every slight rotation of the shoulders, preemptively neutralized a possible line of attack that Li Fen considered.
It was as if Kyrian were dancing with him, knowing the choreography before the music even began.
Such deep battle experience in someone so young... was unsettling.
Impatient, Li Fen decided to test him. His blood flow, until then controlled, surged.
Blood rushed violently to his legs and to the arm holding the dagger. To everyone else, the speed was such that he seemed to disappear like a shadow.
It was a movement of absurd speed. A dark blur that, to the weaker ones, dematerialized from one point and appeared at another beside Kyrian.
The night dagger whistled in a perfect, silent arc toward his opponent’s jugular.
It was a strike without battle technique, purely from Li Fen’s experience, it was a lethal attack.
Kyrian did not disappear like he did. He did not need to.
Before the dagger even completed its arc, his head had already tilted to the side just enough.
The blade passed, cutting the air where his neck had been.
In the same continuous motion, Kyrian rotated his hip and launched a direct, compact punch, his fist wrapped in Blood Qi energy, straight into Li Fen’s ribs.
’BAM!’
Li Fen, surprised by the precision of the dodge and the speed of the counterattack, managed to retract his arm and block with his forearm.
The impact was solid, sending him sliding back several meters, his feet scraping against the stone.
An unpleasant tingling ran through his arm. But it was far less severe than he had expected. For such a precise counterattack, the force behind the punch was not overwhelming.
Li Fen straightened up, a sharp and calculating smile appearing on his lips.
"Heh. Your reflexes are good, better than I expected." Li Fen admitted, his voice a projected whisper.
"But your speed and strength leave something to be desired. You are only at the 3º stage of the Liberation Realm, while my body is tempered by the peak of Liberation."
Kyrian did not respond. But he knew Li Fen was right. Even with his eyes strengthening him, even channeling Qi into his muscles, there was a physical abyss between them.
His mortal body was a limitation that became more glaring with every confrontation against cultivators of higher realms.
Irritated by Kyrian’s calmness, Li Fen attacked again. This time, it was not a single movement.
He became a whirlwind of attacks. He appeared and disappeared, the dagger seeking vital points from impossible angles. At times, he launched bursts of Blood Qi in the form of dark needles from a distance, forcing Kyrian to dodge or dissipate them with bursts of his own Qi.
The arena filled with red shadows and silent explosions of energy.
Kyrian was like a rock amid a storm. He was not faster. But his dodges were minimal, economical, always at the very last possible instant.
He did not counterattack aggressively, only defended, deflected, and blocked.
To the audience, it seemed that Li Fen was gradually cornering him, that it was only a matter of time.
But the more Li Fen’s attack intensified, the more perplexed the more experienced observers became.
Bai Zhu, in the participants’ area, muttered softly.
"He’s playing with him." It was not a comment of disdain, but of disturbed recognition.
Yan Ling watched, her calculating eyes recording every movement.
"Li Fen is spending ten times more energy on each attack than Kyrian spends to defend."
"Kyrian is not just predicting, he’s orchestrating. He’s forcing Li Fen to attack where he wants."
Dong Zhen, on the platform, watched with an increasingly complex expression. The way Kyrian fought... did not seem like that of a young man.
The economy of movement, the absolute patience, and the way he used every part of his body perfectly.
To Dong Zhen, it seemed like an old veteran of a thousand battles disguised in a young body.
’Where would a boy of his cultivation have acquired such experience? Or is he simply a battle genius?’
Li Fen felt frustration grow like a knot in his stomach. Nothing worked. Every attack failed by a hair’s breadth.
He was faster, stronger, but he felt like a rat running through a maze whose walls moved every time he tried to bite.
Fatigue, minimal but real, began to settle into his limbs. The constant control over his blood for those bursts of speed had a cost.
That was when Kyrian sighed.
It was a short sound, almost inaudible amid the din of the fight, but to Li Fen, it sounded like thunder. It was a sigh of... boredom?
A faint, almost nostalgic smile touched the corners of Kyrian’s mouth.
’It’s been a while since I had fun during a fight.’ He thought he had forgotten a little how much he enjoyed fighting this way.
The defensive dance, the reading of movements, pure anticipation... and the surprised look of his opponents.
For a moment, it transported him back to the endless training sessions of his childhood.
Li Fen suddenly sensed danger an instant before he saw it. He retreated in a flash, purely on instinct.
From the center of Kyrian’s right palm, a spear emerged. Completely made of blood. His own blood, dense, dark, and gleaming like wet obsidian.
Drawn out without a visible cut, imbued with his Qi and a deep blood intent. It shot forth, whistling through the air exactly where Li Fen’s throat had been an instant before.