The fight ended with Mystic White, Ji Zho-Chen, as the victor.
After that, several more martial bouts took place—some names forgotten, others progressing through the ranks.
Li Hao sat silently in his seat, eyes fixed on the arena. His serene gaze made the world seem to slow down.
"Brother Hao, why is it still the Outer Disciple matches? I'm getting sleepy," she said, bored by the endless string of fights.
Li Hao didn't respond, his focus remaining on the arena.
Feeling a bit better after speaking, she turned her eyes to Li Hao.
Pouting her lips, she quickly laid her head on his lap, going quiet as she closed her eyes.
Li Hao didn't particularly mind. He didn't dwell on her actions, nor did he reject them.
Having lived together for so long, their relationship was rock-solid—even if, at times, it felt like it could crack at any moment.
Li Hao's hand brushed gently through her hair, his soft touch twinkling like starlight on her head.
In her mind, she smiled childishly, satisfied that he responded to her small emotional gesture.
"Now that the Outer Disciples' competition is over, the next round is for Core Disciples," the commentator announced.
"The first match: Light Spear Lin Fei vs. Sky Piercer Tang Zho-Ming."
The crowd roared louder than during the Outer Disciple fights. Yet, this was only the first match.
SEVERAL ROUNDS PASSED
Li Hao continued to watch the arena, his expression now slightly more focused as two figures stepped onto the stage.
"This final match of the Inner Disciple list will be Mystic White Ji Yean vs. Flowing Fist Yan Mo-Jin," the commentator said.
Mystic White—Ji Yean—was the elder brother of Ji Zho-Chen, a fellow member of the Ji family, and a master swordsman. He ranked second among the Inner Disciples.
His opponent:
Flowing Fist Yan Mo-Jin—first on the Inner Disciple list—was a supreme fist master, renowned for his physical combat. His body had been refined to the toughness of cold iron.
Ji Yean stared at Yan Mo-Jin. Like his younger brother, he had piercing blue eyes and flowing white, immortal-style hair. His martial robes were a mirrored replica of his brother's: long, flowing black and pale gray with ethereal accents, wide sleeves, and trailing hems.
At his side hung a katana—95 cm in length, 3.5 cm wide—crafted from 500-year cold iron, folded 14 times. Sheathed in a silver-and-blue winged scabbard, Ji Yean held it in one hand, ready.
His opponent stood beside him.
Yan Mo-Jin had brown eyes and neatly cut Celestial Crop hair. He wore a dark, intricately patterned robe with black and silver details, paired with a crisp white under-robe that contrasted boldly. A red cord belt cinched his waist.
His hands were clad in black-and-silver mystic gauntlets with a spiraling yellow line running to the tips—also forged from 500-year cold iron, folded 17 times. He adjusted his wrists, stretching his arms.
Neither showed emotion. There was no outward feud, but their rivalry ran deep—old enough that words were unnecessary.
They gazed at one another as vibrant auras flared. Blue Spirit Qi covered their bodies. The tension thickened—one wrong move could end it all.
The commentator whispered softly.
"Fight."
Huh.Tap.
Ji Yean stepped forward, rooting his foot firmly and tilting his body forward. He dashed in with stunning speed.
His hand gripped the sword hilt as he unsheathed it with smooth precision.
As the blade emerged, he focused all his strength into the edge. Sword Qi sparked across the blade's curves, slicing the air.
Yan Mo-Jin didn't move until the last moment. Then, he stepped in, grounding himself as he launched an uppercut. Fist Qi pulsed along his knuckles.
SWISH
BANG
Blade and fist collided, the energies neutralizing one another. Sparks of Qi burst apart as both combatants were pushed back. Their strength—equal.
Yan Mo-Jin pressed forward, leaping high into the air.
Ji Yean's gaze narrowed, Sword Qi vibrating at the blade's edge.
"White Frost Blade Art: Fourth Form—"
"Snow Fall Slash!"
He slashed in four directions—vertical, horizontal, diagonal left, diagonal right. Four arcs of Sword Qi split the air.
Yan Mo-Jin, calm, brought his hands together. Fist Qi coated his knuckles as he struck upward.
"Flowing Fist Art: Second Form—Breaking Waves Fist!"
His punch dropped from above like a tidal wave, carrying 204.8 MN of force.
Fist met blade once more. Qi shattered on impact, Spirit Power fragmenting off Yan Mo-Jin's indomitable body.
He landed lightly—then twisted into a spinning back kick.
Ji Yean raised his sword vertically, blocking flatly.
BANG!
The kick connected, forcing Ji Yean to slide back. Sparks skated across the scorched arena floor.
Ji Yean advanced before Yan Mo-Jin could recover, sword pulled back, muscles tense.
White Frost Blade Art.
He exhaled, a cold mist trailing from his lips. Rooting himself to the ground—
Frozen Silk Slash.
He swept the blade in an arc. Cold Sword Qi glowed along its edge. His gaze locked with Yan Mo-Jin's—calm, piercing.
Yan Mo-Jin grinned and leapt forward, dodging. Mid-air, he spun—a Tornado Kick, fast and wide.
Ji Yean used Flow Parry, catching the kick with his blade's flat. He twisted his body, mirroring the momentum, and executed a miniature spinning arc slash.
Yan Mo-Jin, caught off guard, had no time to react.
Just as Ji Yean's sword curved into its final arc—leaving a white crescent in the air—
"THAT'S ENOUGH."
RRRING.
The blade froze mid-swing, stopped by a wrinkled hand gripping the cold iron.
Ji Yean stumbled as the momentum was halted. He looked up—
An old man stood before him, crouched, his expression calm.
Ji Yean's anger evaporated instantly.
He bowed deeply.
"Ji Yean greets the Seventh Elder."
Name: Mo Fen
Age: 413 years
Realm: Profound Realm – Early Stage
Title: Martial Academy, Seventh Elder
"At least you've got manners to match your blade," Elder Mo Fen said. "That'll keep your head on longer than talent."
"Thank you, Elder, for your sublimity," Ji Yean stammered.
The Elders—true pillars of the sect—were its strongest.
And above them all, the Dean—the one who bore the weight of the Academy's roof on his shoulders.