Su Yanzhou hadn't expected peace — but he'd hoped for at least one full day without someone trying to kill him.
That hope lasted exactly until dawn.
The sun had barely crested the jagged peaks surrounding the Outer Sect when a scroll arrived at his door. Delivered by a grim-faced disciple, the message bore a bright crimson seal.
He unrolled it slowly, half-expecting it to explode.
To Su Yanzhou:
In light of your recent actions, and to preserve the honor of the Sect's ranking hierarchy, you are hereby challenged to an official ranked duel by Zhang Yao, Fifth Seat of the Outer Sect.
Time: Noon, today.
Venue: Arena of Clear Winds.
Refusal is permitted, but will result in forfeiture of advancement eligibility for the current quarter.
Su Yanzhou stared at the parchment.
Then he sighed.
"Damn, So much for flying under the radar."
He wasn't a fool. Zhang Yao's challenge was no coincidence.
Someone — probably multiple someones — wanted to test the stray from the outskirts. Maybe humble him, maybe cripple him outright. Maybe both.
But refusing wasn't an option.
Not because of pride. Yanzhou had very little of that left.
No — refusal meant forfeiting advancement. That would lock him in the bottom ranks of the Outer Sect, practically a death sentence in this brutal meritocracy.
And there was something else.
A flicker at the edge of his mind.
[Anchor 2 Progress: 10% → 25%.]
[Condition Trigger Active: Life-risk challenge accepted.]
"Of course," he thought wryly. The damn Nexus is hungrier than I am.
Hours passed in a blur of preparation.
Elder Yun, ever the practical sadist, offered no comforting words.
"You're not ready for this," the old man said bluntly. "But sometimes you don't get to choose the terms of survival. You'll fight — so fight to kill."
Su Yanzhou nodded.
He spent the remainder of the morning cycling Void Qi through his meridians, sharpening his senses, visualizing every movement of Shadow Step until his mind thrummed with tension.
His ribs still ached. His reserves weren't full.
But that was life. Waiting for perfect conditions was a luxury the weak couldn't afford.
"Let him come," he thought grimly. I'll see what this so-called Fifth Seat is really worth.
Noon arrived.
The Arena of Clear Winds sat atop one of the lower spires, a circular platform open to the sky, ringed by jade railings and floating lanterns. Spectators gathered early — Outer Sect disciples hungry for spectacle, Inner Sect elites watching with cool detachment.
And in the center stood Zhang Yao.
He was everything the rumors promised: a towering youth with broad shoulders, arms like iron pillars, and a wicked black iron staff across his back. His face bore the confident smirk of someone who'd never tasted true defeat.
When Su Yanzhou arrived, the crowd stirred.
"That's him."
"Rat from the outskirts."
"Lucky against Lu Fei but Zhang Yao is on a whole different level."
He ignored them.
Instead, he walked calmly to the arena floor, hands loose at his sides, eyes sharp.
Zhang Yao laughed. "You have guts, Su Yanzhou. I almost thought you'd hide behind Elder Yun's skirts."
Su Yanzhou gave a small smile.
"Disappointed?"
The crowd chuckled nervously.
But Zhang Yao's smirk faded. His eyes narrowed. He could sense it — the calm, controlled aura beneath Su Yanzhou's battered frame.
No fear.
That made him dangerous.
The officiating Elder raised his voice.
"This is a ranked duel sanctioned by the Outer Sect Council. Victory determined by surrender, incapacitation, or ring-out. Lethal force is discouraged — but accidents happen."
A pause.
"Begin!"
Zhang Yao moved first.
A blur of motion — iron staff sweeping in a brutal arc, aiming to crush Yanzhou's ribs.
"Predictable."
Su Yanzhou didn't retreat. Instead, Void Qi surged through his legs — not a full Shadow Step, just a controlled flicker.
His body slid sideways, the staff grazing empty air.
In that instant, he countered — blade flashing toward Zhang Yao's exposed flank.
CLANG!
The staff twisted mid-air, intercepting the strike with unnatural speed.
Zhang Yao grinned.
"Fast. But not fast enough."
A sudden pulse of Qi erupted from the staff, sending a shockwave through the arena floor. Su Yanzhou staggered, thrown off balance.
Zhang Yao pressed the advantage.
Now the staff danced — a whirlwind of black iron and brutal force. Each swing threatened to cave in bone.
Su Yanzhou gave ground, feet moving in tight, precise patterns. He couldn't afford a single misstep.
Void Qi pulsed, balancing offense and survival in a delicate dance.
"He's stronger than Lu Fei. Much stronger."
But slower.
And predictable.
Minutes passed in a brutal rhythm — attack, evade, counter.
Sweat dripped from Su Yanzhou's brow. His breath came sharp and ragged.
But something shifted.
With each exchange, he saw it more clearly — the pattern of Zhang Yao's strikes, the slight over-commitment on his right swing, the half-second lag after each Qi burst.
"You rely too much on brute force," he thought grimly.
Then came the moment.
A feint from Zhang Yao — left swing high, right thrust following.
But Yanzhou was already moving.
Void Qi surged.
Shadow Step: Activated.
The world blurred.
One instant, he stood before the staff.
The next — behind Zhang Yao's exposed back.
His blade flashed.
A clean slash across Zhang Yao's shoulder.
Blood sprayed.
The larger youth roared in pain, spinning wildly — but too late.
Yanzhou was already gone, sliding back into a low defensive stance.
The crowd gasped.
[Anchor 2 Progress: 25% → 50%.]
Now Zhang Yao's grin was gone.
His face twisted with fury.
"YOU DARE—!"
Void Qi exploded from his core.
The air thickened. The arena floor cracked beneath his feet.
"Second Stage Qi burst," Yanzhou realized. Dangerous.
Zhang Yao charged — a living avalanche.
But Su Yanzhou's mind was ice.
He didn't fight the force head-on. Instead, he flowed.
Step after step, slipping through gaps in the assault, letting Void Qi guide his movements.
When the final blow came — a crushing overhead strike — he didn't dodge.
He advanced.
Shadow Step: Precision Mode.
At the last instant, space bent.
He slid inside Zhang Yao's guard — blade thrusting upward.
A sharp cry.
Zhang Yao's staff dropped with a thunderous clang.
Blood dripped from his side.
He swayed — then collapsed to one knee.
"Enough!" the officiating Elder shouted. "Victory — Su Yanzhou!"
The arena exploded in noise.
Shock. Awe. Fear.
Su Yanzhou stood in the center, chest heaving, blade trembling slightly in his grasp.
[Anchor 2 Progress: 50% → 75%.]
[Warning: Physical strain critical.]
"Yeah, no kidding," he thought, wiping sweat from his forehead.
As he turned to leave, Zhang Yao's voice rasped behind him.
"This isn't over… rat."
Su Yanzhou didn't look back.
Instead, he whispered softly — for himself alone.
"It never is."
Outside the arena, he barely made it a dozen steps before collapsing against a stone pillar.
Pain flared through his body. His limbs shook with exhaustion.
But through the haze, one thing burned clear.
[Anchor 2 Progress: 75% → 80%.]
He smiled faintly.
"One more step. Just one."