A hushed tension fell over the courtyard, the air thick with anticipation. All eyes were fixed on the two figures standing across from one another—one young and composed, the other older, broader, with an aura of unshakable power.
"Is… is Qian Yu really going to challenge Zhao Wuji?"
"That's madness! Zhao Wuji is a Soul Sage!"
"Qian Yu may be powerful, sure—but against a seventy-sixth level Soul Sage? That's suicide."
Whispers rippled through the gathering crowd, each voice tinged with disbelief. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves above, dappled light flickering across tense faces. Everyone had seen Qian Yu's strength earlier in the day when he defeated Dai Mubai—but Dai was only a Soul Elder. Zhao Wuji, however… he was something else entirely.
They called him the Immovable King, a title not earned lightly.
And yet, Qian Yu stood tall, eyes calm, his long black coat fluttering in the breeze. With a smooth motion, he summoned his weapon—a long spear that shimmered with a cold, divine gleam. At the same time, his soul power surged outward, invisible pressure rippling through the space like a tidal wave.
Four soul rings emerged, floating around him—each of them a deep black, the mark of ten-thousand-year power.
Zhao Wuji's brows furrowed. Even though he had been warned by the Grandmaster about Qian Yu's unusual soul rings, seeing them for himself still struck him like a hammer to the chest.
"Four… all of them ten-thousand-year soul rings?" Zhao Wuji muttered in disbelief. "And you're only level forty-nine... No wonder Dai Mubai couldn't stand against you."
Qian Yu gave a lopsided grin. "Then let's see if you can."
And just like that, he launched forward.
A sudden gust of wind spiraled in his wake, a blur where he once stood—he had vanished from sight. Even those in the crowd with sharp eyes couldn't follow him. It was as if the wind itself had taken form.
It was his first soul skill: Windstride. A burst of speed that turned the world to a blur.
Zhao Wuji blinked, startled, but he remained rooted. He knew he couldn't match Qian Yu's speed, but that didn't matter. If he could just land a solid hit—just one—this reckless kid would crumble.
Then, Qian Yu was there.
A spear, like a streak of silver lightning, exploded forward with terrifying momentum. There was no flourish, no wasted motion—just raw power, clean and absolute.
Boom!
A thunderous impact echoed through the air. Zhao Wuji staggered backward, his boots gouging deep trenches in the earth. Dust flew as he struggled to stay upright, taking step after step until he finally dug in and stopped.
He stared at Qian Yu, wide-eyed.
"That strength…" he muttered, almost to himself.
Qian Yu twirled his spear once, letting it rest lightly on his shoulder. His voice was calm, almost playful. "Immovable King? Looks like you moved just fine."
The words stung. Zhao Wuji's pride flared—but deeper than that was confusion. This boy was no Soul Sage, and yet… that strike had felt like a sledgehammer to his chest. Where was this monstrous strength coming from?
Before he could collect himself, a chill raced up his spine—Qian Yu was already in front of him again.
"Damn it," Zhao Wuji cursed under his breath. "That speed…!"
He had barely caught his breath and already the boy was upon him once more, his presence like the whisper of a storm before the sky cracks open. And it wasn't just the speed—it was that suffocating pressure, the raw, frigid power in his soul energy.
Another strike. Another devastating blow.
Boom!
Zhao Wuji flew through the air like a shattered boulder, limbs splayed. He hit the ground hard, skidding across the stone with a spray of dust and broken earth. For a moment, all was silent.
The onlookers gasped, mouths agape, unable to reconcile what they were witnessing.
Then, a voice rose from the settling dust.
"Hah! Not bad, brat… I really underestimated you."
Zhao Wuji rose, his broad frame emerging from the smoke like a mountain from a storm. He cracked his neck, and as he stepped forward, seven soul rings rose beneath his feet—each one gleaming with immense power.
The first ring ignited in a radiant glow.
"The Immovable King's True Form!" someone whispered.
Zhao Wuji's body swelled, muscles hardening like stone, his skin gleaming with a faint golden hue.
"You're strong," he said, grinning now with genuine excitement, "but this is where your charge ends."
Qian Yu cocked his head, unmoved. "You've used your soul skill. Then I suppose… I'll use mine too."
There was no arrogance in his voice—just an eerie calm, the voice of someone who had already seen the outcome.
Zhao Wuji scoffed. "Go ahead. My True Form is absolute. Let's see how your tricks stack up."
Qian Yu's expression sharpened, and a new light flickered in his eyes—one colder than winter frost.
"You think your body can stop my spear…" he said softly. "But can it stop this?"
A soul ring lit beneath his feet, followed by a second. Then, like a spreading storm, a wave of pure cold burst forth from his body, sweeping across the battlefield.
Frost bloomed instantly at his feet, racing outward like a living thing.
Zhao Wuji's smirk faltered.
Then, crack.
In the blink of an eye, his golden glow was consumed by frost. A pillar of ice surged upward, encasing him entirely, locking him in a shimmering prison of pure cold.
"Wh-what…?" he gasped, lips trembling. "You—you're a twin soul master?!"
Even Flender, hidden in the shadows nearby, inhaled sharply.
"Impossible," he whispered. "His soul rings… his soul power… and now twin spirits? That ice—no, that must be the ultimate form of the Ice Spirit itself…"
Zhao Wuji let out a muffled roar.
CRACK!
With a violent burst, the ice shattered. Shards exploded outward in all directions, glinting in the sun like deadly crystals.
He stumbled out, arms wrapped around his body, skin pale and lips tinged with purple.
"C-cold! Dammit, that's freezing!" he barked, shivering. "You little devil, no one said anything about twin spirits!"
Qian Yu stood calmly, spear held high, a thin sheen of frost dusting his shoulders like snow. He wasn't surprised that Zhao Wuji had survived—after all, this was a Soul Sage. But the freezing had served its purpose.
It had cracked his perfect defense.
"Let's finish this," Qian Yu said, soul power swirling to life around him once more.
The fourth soul ring on his spear lit up, blazing with divine energy.
"Fourth Soul Skill—War God Descent!"
He roared as he launched forward, his spear a bolt of silver lightning descending from the heavens.
Zhao Wuji's eyes widened.
And the spear surged forward.
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