Immortality Starts With Face

The day of the grand martial exhibition dawned bright and clear over Qingshan Town, a welcome respite from the oppressive humidity that had clung to the area for the past week. A palpable buzz of excitement, an energy unseen in these sleepy provincial streets for many years – and, perhaps, decades – vibrated in the very air. From the poorest slum-dweller near the newly-active docks and harbor district, to the most prosperous shopkeeper on the main thoroughfare, it seemed the entire populace was making its way towards the old, and now significantly expanded, Qingshan Martial Arts Arena.

The arena itself was a testament to both ancient, crumbling history and frantic, recent industry. The original stone structure, weathered by literal centuries of sun and rain, its grey blocks mossy in places and bearing the honorable scars of countless minor skirmishes and local tournaments, still formed the core. But around it, like fresh, pale wood grafted onto an aging oak, rose newly-constructed wooden bleachers. Ordered as a priority project by the City Lord himself, and financed by the enigmatic Young Master Jiang Li, whose wealth and influence now seemed as boundless as the sky, a veritable army of laborers had toiled on them day and night.

The current results were, perhaps, a little rough around the edges – the scent of freshly sawn wood still hung heavy in the air, and some of the joinery looked suspiciously rushed – but the construction seemed sturdy enough. More importantly, the project had nearly tripled the arena's existing seating capacity. Where once only a few hundred could comfortably observe, now roughly a thousand eager spectators could jostle for a view.

Banners, vibrant and new, fluttered from hastily erected poles.

The stark, black silhouette of a clenched fist for Master Tie Ba's Iron Fist School.

A gracefully stylized weeping willow branch in shades of green and silver for Madam Lan Hua's Whispering Willow Academy.

A simple, unyielding grey mountain peak for Master Gao Shan's Mountain Heart School.

And, displayed most prominently above the main entrance and in the newly designated VIP viewing platform, the striking Jiang family crest – a rich, indigo background hosting a silver, horizontal flowing river beneath three brilliant golden stars – a subtly more dominant presence than all of the others combined.

Outside the arena walls, the normally quiet plaza had transformed into a chaotic, joyous carnival.

The air was a rich, intoxicating tapestry of smells: the smoky aroma of roasting spirit beast haunches (a rare treat for most) mingled with the more common scent of sizzling lamb skewers and sweet, fried pastries. Hawkers, their voices hoarse from shouting, pushed carts laden with candied fruits, spiced nuts, and flagons of cheap, potent local wine. Children, shrieking with delight, chased each other through the throng, their faces sticky with honey and berry juices.

Amidst this cheerful cacophony, several new, surprisingly elegant structures stood out.

At Young Master Jiang Li's instruction, conveyed through the ever-efficient Jin Bao, a series of attractive, fair-like booths had been erected, their canvas awnings dyed in the Jiang family's colors of deep blue and silver.

One section showcased various "Jiang Family" products, their quality and novelty drawing curious crowds: bolts of silk – available in every hue of the rainbow – with threads so fine they seemed to shimmer with an inner light, their colors richer and more vibrant than anything usually seen in Qingshan; expertly crafted tools made of mundane – but unusually robust – alloys, such as farming implements with surprisingly keen, durable edges, and woodworking tools of ingenious, unfamiliar design; and a dazzling array of utterly unique trinkets – jewelry featuring genuine pearls not usually seen outside of the Imperial Capital or distant coastal provinces, ingenious mechanical toys, and polished wooden music boxes that whispered of distant lands and forgotten arts. All these were, of course, the subtle fruits of Jiang Li's System, manifested and presented as a testament to the Jiang family's burgeoning commercial enterprise.

The largest, and, by far, the most popular, of these pavilions was the culinary tent: a veritable temple to earthly delights previously unimaginable to the common folk of Qingshan. Here, under the watchful eyes of smartly uniformed Jiang family servants, samples of various "Jiang Family" spirit wines – their clarity and potent aroma speaking of a quality usually reserved for the tables of nobility – were offered alongside more common, but still excellent, non-spiritual fruit and berry wines. But it was the true novelties that had the crowd buzzing with a mixture of bewilderment and ecstatic delight. Great, sweating kegs of beer – described in flavors such as "crisp lager," "hearty ale," and "dark, rich stout" – were being served chilled, thanks to discreetly placed, faintly shimmering talismans that kept the kegs cool despite the climate and afternoon sun. This alone was an innovation and marvel for the crowd.

And then, there was the food.

Young Master Jiang Li, it was whispered, had introduced these "exotic delicacies" from his travels in "distant, unmapped lands." There were "Minced Spirit Beast Patties in Toasted Buns" – or Hamburgers, as the strange foreign name was pronounced – served hot from a sizzling griddle, the rich aroma of cooked meat mingling with the scent of freshly-baked bread and an array of colorful, piquant condiments.

There were "Flatbread Discs with Melted Cheese and Savory Toppings" – Pizza – a bizarre but incredibly delicious concoction of baked dough, tangy red sauce, local mushrooms, cured meats, and layers of stringy, molten cheeses that baffled and delighted in equal measure.

And for dessert, the ultimate sensation: "Frozen Sweet Cream of Various Flavors" – Ice Cream – a miraculous substance usually reserved for cultivator nobility, impossibly cold yet meltingly soft on the tongue, offered in varieties like "Sunfruit Swirl," "Moonpetal Vanilla," and a daring, slightly numbing "Spirit Ginger Zing."

The common folk, and even many of the wealthier townsfolk and visiting merchants, were utterly captivated. The ice and exotic spices used in these dishes – substances that would normally cost a small fortune, if they could be found at all in the tropical Azure Province – were somehow incorporated into these affordable treats, making them accessible to nearly everyone!

And the crowds were loving it! Each gasp of wonder, each exclamation of delight, was a tiny, almost imperceptible offering to the ever-receptive System, a subtle belief-farming operation conducted under the guise of public festivity.

Of course, the enigmatic Young Master Jiang Li himself was conspicuously absent from these public displays. Various plausible excuses were making the rounds. His "hosting" duties for any important guests arriving for the exhibition had been smoothly delegated to the capable Lin Ruolan, who moved through the VIP reception area with her usual quiet competence, and Jin Bao, who bustled about with an air of harried importance, ensuring everything ran to his Young Master's exacting standards. This carefully orchestrated absence, of course, allowed Jiang Li the freedom to prepare for his own, rather different, public appearance.

In the specially prepared VIP viewing box, a raised platform offering the best view of the arena floor and a modicum of shade and comfort provided by silk awnings and plush cushions, the atmosphere was one of polite anticipation and subtle political maneuvering.

City Lord Zhang Wei, looking remarkably hale and hearty, his earlier pallor replaced by a healthy color and his demeanor radiating a newfound confidence that sat surprisingly well on his usually jovial features, was playing the gracious host. His Qi, though still firmly in the Mid-Stage of Foundation Establishment, felt more vibrant, more robust than it had in years, a testament to the miraculous efficacy of the Seven Heavens Meridian Reknitting Pills. He seemed in excellent spirits, his laughter booming more readily than it had in decades.

In fact, he even looked slightly younger!

Beside him, Jiang Yue, clad in stylish and sophisticated dark green cultivator robes that allowed for ease of movement while still projecting an air of formidable power, watched the assembling crowd with an adventurer's keen, observant eye.

Her interactions with Zhang Wei were a source of whispered gossip and, perhaps, a touch of envy for those who noticed. They sat comfortably close, a natural ease between them that spoke of a rapidly blossoming connection. At one point, she casually, almost unconsciously, reached over to adjust the slightly crooked collar of his fine silk robe, her fingers brushing his neck for a fleeting instant, causing a faint blush to rise on his cheeks. Later, he was seen offering her the choicest, perfectly ripe sunfruit from a platter of refreshments, his expression one of warm, solicitous regard. They shared quiet jokes, their heads inclined towards each other, their laughter – his booming, hers a rich, throaty chuckle – easy and genuine. When she teased him good-naturedly about some minor provincial matter, he no longer stammered or looked flustered, but responded with a newfound confidence and a surprisingly witty retort that made her laugh aloud.

Their affection, though unspoken – and, perhaps, not even fully acknowledged – by either of them, was as clear and refreshing as a mountain spring to any observant eye. Theirs were the kind of affectionate and genuine interactions that seemed to defy the grim pragmatism that usually dominated cultivator relationships.

+++

Soon enough, it was time for City Lord Zhang Wei to formally greet the arriving dignitaries. City Lord Meng of Fallen Star City, a portly man whose expensive robes seemed at least a size too tight, was being particularly solicitous, almost fawning. He offered profuse, repeated apologies for the "unfortunate and deeply regrettable incident" – the bandit ambush – that had occurred after the auction in his city, targeting guests of such esteemed status. He was clearly, acutely aware of the Jiang family's new Imperial contract and Young Master Jiang Li's meteoric rise. The fear of any lingering ill-will, of any negative report reaching higher ears, was etched on his sweating face. He presented Zhang Wei with a lavish (by the standards of the province) gift – a rare, thousand-year-old ginseng – and offered extensive future considerations and trade advantages.

Zhang Wei, to his credit, handled the situation with a newfound, confident grace, accepting the apology and the gift with polite magnanimity, though Jiang Yue caught the subtle, almost imperceptible glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched City Lord Meng squirm.

Meanwhile, nearby, hushed conversations among the other assembled guests whispered of recent, chilling news that had trickled down from the provincial capital: Imperial Trade Inspector Liu, the one who had so arrogantly and foolishly dared to challenge Young Master Jiang Li and then, even more disastrously, the Eighth Princess, at the Fallen Star City Auction, had reportedly taken his own life. The gossip, accompanied by meaningful glances, suggested it was a desperate act to try to protect his family from further, inevitable Imperial repercussions after his public humiliation and egregious offense against royalty. The tale served as a grim, unspoken reminder of the lethal stakes involved when dealing with the true powers of the Empire, a sobering counterpoint to the day's festive air.

And the festivities have indeed continued to impress.

To warm up the crowd and build anticipation for the main event, a series of preliminary exhibition fights got underway on the arena floor below. Lesser martial artists, eager disciples from the three local schools, engaged in brief and spirited (though not overly impressive) bouts. Their skills were rudimentary, their Xue Qi thin and unrefined, but they fought with an earnest enthusiasm that drew cheers from their respective supporters in the stands.

This provided a lively backdrop for City Lord Zhang Wei and the other dignitaries in the VIP box to socialize, network, and discuss matters of commerce and local politics, the thud of fists and the clang of weapons a distant, percussive accompaniment to their polite conversations.

Just as the crowd was beginning to grow restless, their appetite for true martial prowess whetted by the amateur displays, a sudden stir went through the VIP section. A collective intake of breath, a wave of hushed, disbelieving whispers. Elder Yue Qingxue of the Azure Cloud Sect, one of the most powerful and respected cultivators in all of Azure Province, had made an entirely unexpected entrance!

Her presence was commanding, her aura of Peak Foundation Establishment a tangible force that subtly chilled the air around her, silencing nearby chatter. Her robes, the pristine white and azure blue of her sect, were of the finest spirit silk, embroidered with intricate cloud motifs that seemed to shift and flow with her movements. Her famously icy beauty was as striking as ever, her features like those of a flawless celestial muse, the very ideal of flawless proportions – her expression impassive, analytical, her gaze sweeping the arena with a cool, appraising detachment.

And she was not alone.

Accompanying her, a step behind and to her right, was her direct disciple, Lin Feng. A youth of only fourteen, he carried himself with a quiet confidence that belied his age. His eyes, bright and remarkably intelligent, took in everything with a keen, assessing gaze. His Qi signature, though carefully restrained, already proclaimed him to be at the terrifyingly advanced Eighth Stage of Qi Gathering – a true, once-in-a-generation genius!

The attendance of a cultivation Sect Elder, and such a renowned one at that, at a mere provincial martial arts exhibition was highly unusual, almost unprecedented. It caused an immediate wave of fervent whispers and wild speculation among the assembled guests.

Why was she here?

Was her presence related to the upcoming Azure Cloud Sect selection trials, for which Qingshan was but a minor, preliminary recruitment stop?

Or was she, perhaps, interested in someone specific?

A hush, thick with anticipation, fell over the thousand-strong crowd as the last of the preliminary fighters, a bruised but beaming youth from the Mountain Heart Sect, was helped from the arena.

The three local masters – Master Tie Ba of the Iron Fist School, a burly, barrel-chested man whose forearms were as thick as tree trunks; Madam Lan Hua of the Whispering Willow Academy, a surprisingly petite woman whose age was impossible to guess, her movements fluid and graceful as a dancer's; and Master Gao Shan of the Mountain Heart School, an older, stern-faced man with a long grey beard, leaning on an enormous Lang Ya Bang – took their seats on a raised dais at one end of the arena, their expressions a mixture of pride and solemnity.

Then, without warning, without announcement, a dark silhouette appeared in one of the entrance tunnels, slowly and calmly walking towards the center of the arena. Clad entirely in form-fitting black garments that seemed to absorb the sunlight, the upper part of his face was completely concealed by a featureless black half-mask.

Said mask, however, did more than merely hide his face; it subtly distorted his voice when he finally spoke, making it sound deeper, more resonant, almost… inhuman.

This was the enigmatic Shadow of Qingshan Town!

And he radiated an aura of profound Xue Qi, a vital energy so potent, so controlled, it felt like standing next to a dangerous predator, ready to strike.

Shadow's distorted voice rang out, clear and confident, carrying to every corner of the suddenly silent arena.

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"Masters of Qingshan! Master Tie Ba of the Iron Fist! Madam Lan Hua of the Whispering Willow! Master Gao Shan of the Mountain Heart! Your esteemed reputations precede you. Today, I, who am called Shadow, seek to test my humble skills against your renowned arts."

He paused, letting the anticipation build.

"However, to fight you one at a time would be a disservice to your legacies, and frankly, it would prove far too tedious to watch for all assembled! Therefore, I invite all three of you to come down and face me together!"

An uproar!

Pandemonium!

The crowd gasped, then exploded into a cacophony of disbelieving shouts and excited murmurs.

Such arrogance!

Such audacity!

The three masters on the dais were visibly infuriated. Their faces flushed with anger, their eyes narrowed. This unknown upstart, this "Shadow," dared to insult them so publicly? After a moment of shocked silence, spurred by a mixture of offended pride and the undeniable pressure of a thousand expectant eyes, they rose as one.

Master Tie Ba strapped heavy, spiked iron rings to his massive wrists.

Madam Lan Hua drew a pair of gleaming sai, their hilts wrapped in dark leather.

Master Gao Shan hefted his weapon, a formidable Lang Ya Bang – a Wolf Tooth Mace, its heavy ironwood shaft topped with a brutal, spiked metal head designed to crush bone and shatter shields.

With grim expressions, they descended into the arena.

The three masters, furious at the perceived insult, wasted no time on pleasantries. They attacked simultaneously, a whirlwind of diverse styles converging on the figure in Black.

Master Tie Ba, true to his school's name, charged forward like an enraged bull, his iron-ringed fists, each carrying the weight of a small boulder, aiming to pulverize Shadow with a direct, overwhelming assault.

Simultaneously, Madam Lan Hua, a blur of graceful motion, darted in from the flank, her twin sai flashing like silver lightning, seeking vital openings with a dancer's deadly precision, her steps silent on the packed earth.

From above, Master Gao Shan, his face a mask of stern concentration, brought his Wolf Tooth Mace crashing down, its passage through the air a whistling promise of brutal, bone-shattering impact.

Shadow, his hands clasped calmly behind his back, moved.

He didn't just dodge.

He flowed.

He melted.

It was an almost impossible series of micro-movements, subtle leans, and almost imperceptible footwork shifts.

Tie Ba's furious charge thundered past, the wind of his passage ruffling Shadow's black cloak, his iron fists meeting only empty air.

Lan Hua's sai, aimed at Shadow's ribs and throat, hissed through the space he had occupied a microsecond before, their tips grazing nothing but dust motes.

Gao Shan's mace, heavy enough to crater the earth, slammed down with a deafening thud precisely where Shadow had been standing, sending up a plume of choking dust and vibrations that shuddered through the wooden bleachers… but Shadow was simply no longer there. He had sidestepped the crushing blow with an almost contemptuous ease, reappearing a few feet away, still perfectly balanced, hands still clasped casually behind his back.

Tie Ba, roaring in frustration at his miss, overextended his charge and followed up with a sweeping roundhouse punch, his iron-ringed fist aimed at Shadow's head. Shadow, without unlacing his fingers, executed a flawless, lightning-fast side kick. The sole of his soft black shoe connected with pinpoint precision against Tie Ba's charging thigh, just above the knee. It wasn't a blow designed to cripple, but to disrupt. Tie Ba grunted, his momentum broken, his balance shattered. He stumbled heavily, his Xue Qi flaring in surprise and pain, nearly crashing to the ground.

Before Tie Ba could recover, Madam Lan Hua was upon Shadow again, a whirlwind of flashing steel. Her twin sai became a silver net, weaving complex patterns, thrusting, slashing, feinting, each movement a testament to years of dedicated practice… But in response, Shadow moved like a willow branch in a storm: bending, swaying, his evasions so graceful they seemed almost dance-like. Her sai whistled past, inches from his clothes, sometimes even seeming to pass through him, so close were the tolerances. Then, as she committed to a particularly vicious double thrust aimed at his heart, Shadow's leg snapped out in a whip-fast front snap kick. It wasn't aimed at her body, but at her extended right wrist.

The impact was sharp, precise.

Lan Hua cried out, a small, startled sound, her fingers spasming, and one of her sai clattered to the dusty ground.

She leaped back inn panic, her eyes wide with disbelief, clutching her stinging wrist.

Master Gao Shan, seeing his companions falter, bellowed a challenge and brought his heavy weapon around in a wide, horizontal sweep, aimed at Shadow's legs, designed to shatter bone and cripple. Shadow, with an almost bored sigh that was somehow audible even over the crowd's roar, didn't even bother to duck this time. He simply leaped, a light, effortless bound that took him a clear foot above the deadly arc of the mace. As he descended, his body spinning in a graceful, controlled rotation, his left foot laded gracefully onto the weapon.

For a breath, he remained there – standing perfectly balanced atop the Lang Ya Bang, while the crowd, and Gao Shan, stared in incredulous disbelief…

Then, Shadow leapt forward aggressively, his heel lashing out in a perfectly timed spinning hook kick that connected solidly with the side of Gao Shan's weapon arm, just below the shoulder. The older master grunted, a deep, pained sound, his arm going numb from the impact, and he staggered back several steps, the heavy Lang Ya Bang nearly slipping from his grasp.

The three masters, their initial confidence visibly shaken, their Xue Qi now tinged with frustration and a dawning, unwelcome respect, were forced to regroup.

Their attacks became more cautious, more measured, but no less aggressive. They circled Shadow, trying to find an opening, to coordinate their assaults.

But it was futile.

Shadow anticipated their every move, most of his evasions economical, almost minimalist.

He would turn his back on Master Tie Ba's telegraphed charges to deliver a perfectly aimed crescent kick that deflected Madam Lan Hua's renewed sai assault, then pivot with impossible speed to avoid Master Gao Shan's follow-up strike, his hands remaining serenely clasped behind him throughout.

His kicks were not just defensive: they were targeted, carrying a surprising, almost shocking speed and potential for force – yet carefully controlled to moderate the damage. They were aimed not to inflict grievous injury, but to disrupt his opponents' stances.

To deflect their weapons.

To create openings, which he then purposefully chose not to exploit.

To demonstrate, with every effortless movement, his utter, contemptuous superiority over the so-called Masters before him.

The fight, if it could even be called that, became an exercise of Shadow leading his opponents in a deadly, one-sided dance, where they were always, inevitably, one step behind. Their weapons, their years of training, all of their combined strength, was rendered utterly useless against the pure, unadulterated skill of the enigmatic man in Black.

The expressions on the faces of the three masters told a story of their own: from initial anger and confident disdain; to bewildered surprise; then to a mounting, visible frustration; and finally, to a dawning, grudging respect mingled with a profound disbelief... and fear.

The crowd, too, had evolved its reactions – their initial jeers at Shadow's audacity slowly transforming into gasps of astonishment, then into roars of incredulous excitement!

Up in the VIP box, young Lin Feng's eyes were wide with a mixture of youthful enthusiasm and utter disbelief.

"This… so this is Shadow!" he exclaimed, his voice tight with awe.

"His movements are incredible! Like nothing I've ever seen! But… surely no mere Martial Artist can move like that? Is he a cultivator in disguise, using Ling Qi to enhance his speed and strength? He seems far too powerful for a mortal!"

Jiang Yue, seated beside a thoroughly engrossed City Lord Zhang Wei, frowned slightly, a flicker of deep puzzlement in her usually confident eyes as she extended her spiritual sense towards the arena.

"No, Young Feng," she said, her voice thoughtful. "My senses detect no trace of Ling Qi manipulation from him, no spiritual energy fluctuations typical of a cultivator. The power we see… is purely Xue Qi, the vital energy of the mortal body. But it is honed to an astonishing degree, with a density and control I've rarely witnessed."

Her words were calm, but internally, she was more conflicted. Jiang Yue knew that what she was seeing was not ordinary. The sheer potency of Shadow's Xue Qi felt almost unnatural, far beyond any Martial Artist she had ever encountered, even those rare few who were rumored to have touched upon the threshold of Martial Grandmaster. And yet, she could not pinpoint any Spirit Qi use.

Her gaze lingered for a moment upon the empty seat beside Lin Ruolan, the one reserved for her enigmatic cousin, Jiang Li.

Elder Yue Qingxue, her gaze sharp and intensely analytical, nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Lady Jiang Yue is correct," she stated, her voice cool and precise.

"There is not a hint of Ling Qi here. Shadow is indeed a legitimate Martial Artist. Impressive!"

She paused, as if considering something.

"In fact… from the skill he displays, the effortless control over his Xue Qi, the profound understanding of the flow of battle… he must surely be a Martial Grandmaster. A rare treat indeed to see one in these peripheral parts of the Empire, especially a Martial Grandmaster of such apparent youth!"

She trailed off, lost in thought.

Below, Shadow started employing a dazzling, almost disorienting movement technique, seeming to "flicker" around his three increasingly bewildered opponents, appearing and disappearing in their peripheral vision, making them swing wildly at empty air, their coordinated attacks dissolving into frustrated, individual lunges.

Master Tie Ba, his barrel chest heaving, his face flushed a furious crimson, finally roared in exasperation, "Your footwork… your evasive techniques… they are magnificent, young man, and yet I do not recognize them from any known school in Azure Province! If I might be so bold as to ask… what are these skills, and where did you learn them?"

Shadow paused for a dramatic beat, his masked face unreadable.

The rest of the combatants, and the audience, seemed to collectively hold their breaths, waiting for the answer.

Shadow's distorted voice, when it came, was loud enough for the entire hushed arena to hear: calm, yet carrying a hint of melancholic pride.

"Oh, this?" he gestured dismissively at his own fluid movements. "This is the legendary 'Shadowless Step.' A profound martial art, to be sure, though my mastery of it is rather poor. What you have witness here is but an incomplete fragment, a pale imitation of its true potential. At its true perfection, the technique is said to allow the user to move so swiftly they can outrun even their own shadow…"

He shook his head with a sigh of feigned regret.

"But even that is nothing, nothing at all, compared to what my Master, the esteemed Young Master Jiang Li of the Yuhang Jiang family, is capable of. Master has taught me everything I know, every technique I possess, every secret of the martial path. He surpasses me greatly in every martial skill, and his understanding of the Dao of Battle is profound beyond measure."

A wave of excited, disbelieving murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Jiang Li?

That Jiang Li?

The wealthy young master from the Jiang family… is this martial arts prodigy's Master?

Shadow continued, his voice now filled with a carefully crafted, almost reverent awe.

"As for the Shadowless Step? My Master, with his transcendent wisdom, utilizes a cultivation variant of this very technique, one he has named the 'Shadowless Void Step.' With it, he can instantly traverse great distances with a single step, without needing to cross the intervening space, as if stepping through the void itself! Now that is a technique that's truly magnificent, a sight to behold! I wish you all could have witnessed it when he first demonstrated it to me. The sight of it changed my life! He could appear in mid-air as if from nowhere, and even leave behind illusory afterimages to confuse and confound his opponents."

He paused again, as if reminiscing, before shaking his head in apparent sorrow.

"Even my Master Li's Xue Qi is far denser and purer than mine… It seems I am akin to a frog in a well, not knowing the extent of the outside world. Only now, under his enlightened tutelage, have I begun to barely scratch the surface of what a true Martial Artist can achieve!"

He visibly shook himself out of the reverie, taking on a more aggressive (though still hand-less) stance.

"But enough talk! I see that your stances are faltering, your breath growing ragged. Come at me together – this time, I will meet you head on. Let us end this battle with honor!"

The three masters, goaded by his words, by the implication of their own inadequacy, and, perhaps, a little desperate to salvage some shred of their pride before this enormous crowd, launched a final, furious, coordinated assault.

And, true to his word, this time, Shadow did not merely evade.

Instead, he erupted.

A huge, visible, almost tangible aura of shimmering mirage-like, colorless – yet undeniably potent – Xue Qi exploded outwards from his body. It was so powerful, so dense, that it created a visible shockwave in the ground and air, a ripple of tangible force that momentarily arrested the momentum of the opponents' weapons – making the attacks seem to hang suspended in the air for an agonizing instant.

Then, with a simple, almost contemptuous stomp of his right foot upon the packed earth of the arena, Shadow directed the wave outwards.

The three masters were flung backwards as if struck by an invisible battering ram, their weapons flying from nerveless fingers, their bodies tumbling like rag dolls through the air to land heavily in the dust.

Gasping.

Disoriented.

Utterly defeated.

The audience roared anew with a cacophony of excited shouts:

"Martial Grandmaster! By the Heavens, I knew it! He's a genuine Martial Grandmaster!"

"I never thought I would live to see a Martial Grandmaster in Qingshan!"

"If he, a mere disciple, is this strong, then how terrifyingly powerful must his Master, that Jiang Li, truly be?!"

…

Down in the arena, the shimmering aura of Xue Qi swirling around Shadow shuddered, then, instead of receding, it visibly waxed even further, growing larger, denser, and more potent by the second… And it showed no signs of stopping!

Such was the terrifying vitality of that aura, even Elder Yue Qingxue, in her VIP box, raised a single, perfectly-sculpted eyebrow in genuine surprise.

But, after a few tense, breathless seconds, Shadow brought the overwhelming display back under tight, precise control. Only a thin, shimmering silhouette of condensed Xue Qi – like a heat haze on a summer road – remained clinging to his form, a testament to the extraordinary power he wielded.

City Lord Zhang Wei was on his feet, his face alight with unfeigned delight and a fierce, proprietary pride (for it was his City, after all, that produced this prodigy!), clapping his hands together with unrestrained enthusiasm. Jiang Yue, beside him, was smiling broadly – though a thoughtful, speculative gleam lingered in her eyes as she watched the figure in Black.

The three defeated masters – bruised, humbled, and covered in dust – exchanged weary, resigned glances.

They struggled to their feet, their earlier fury now entirely replaced by absolute respect.

Then, with a shared understanding, they knelt towards Shadow, saluting him with their fists against their open palms – a profound gesture of respect and submission in the martial world.

"Esteemed Senior," Master Tie Ba said, his voice hoarse, his head bowed. "Your skills are beyond our comprehension. We are utterly defeated. We greet the Martial Grandmaster, esteemed disciple of the great Jiang Li."

"We greet the Esteemed Senior," echoed Madam Lan Hua and Master Gao Shan with their own respectful salutes.

Shadow gave a curt, almost dismissive nod to the kneeling masters.

He then turned to the still-roaring crowd, his masked face unreadable, his distorted voice booming across the arena, silencing the din:

"Is there no one else in Qingshan, or among our esteemed visitors from afar, who wishes to test the limits of mortal skill today? Is there no other champion daring enough to exchange pointers with this humble Shadow?"

Before anyone in the stunned audience could react, before Elder Yue Qingxue could even register the shift in the atmosphere, her young disciple, Lin Feng, his eyes blazing with the reckless, unquenchable fire of youth and an almost palpable competitive spirit, vaulted over the railing of the VIP box.

He landed lightly on the arena floor, a surprisingly graceful movement for one whose primary elemental affinity was Earth.

"I, Lin Feng of the Azure Cloud Sect," he declared, his young voice surprisingly steady and clear, ringing with challenge, "accept your invitation, Grandmaster Shadow!"

Elder Yue Qingxue gasped, a rare, audible crack in her usually flawless icy composure. She rose gracefully to her feet, her expression a mixture of annoyance and something unreadable.

Her voice, amplified by Qi, cut through the sudden, shocked hush that had fallen over the arena:

"My… apologies for my disciple's impetuousness to the esteemed Grandmaster Shadow, and to our honored guests. Such youthful exuberance is… unbecoming of a disciple of the Azure Cloud Sect when facing a respected practitioner of the martial path."

The unspoken subtext – which, of course, was clear to every cultivator and Martial Artist present – was that of a delicate dismissal. It was considered inappropriate, almost an insult, for a prodigiously talented cultivator like Lin Feng – a direct disciple of a powerful Elder and future pillar of a Spirit cultivator sect – to "lower" himself by fighting a "mere martial artist," however skilled he might have been. The intended implication was that such a fight would be a trivial matter for Lin Feng; a mismatch of status and fundamental power.

Shadow, however, cheerfully misinterpreted the carefully worded, condescending apology!

He turned his masked face towards the VIP box and gave a casual, almost jaunty "thumbs-up" (a gesture utterly alien to this world). His distorted voice rang out with an unassailable, almost patronizing confidence:

"Oh, not at all, esteemed Elder Yue! There is no need to apologize in the slightest! I understand perfectly. Your disciple is just a kid, after all! Full of spirit! It's good for the young ones to test themselves, to learn their limits, even if they are… more than a bit out of their depth against an opponent like myself. Rest assured, I will definitely go easy on him!"

The crowd, catching the audacious, almost insulting reinterpretation of the Elder's words, once again dissolved into murmurs with a mixture of shock, confusion, and a new, uneasy excitement. This Shadow was either incredibly brave or suicidally foolish to so casually tweak the nose of an Azure Cloud Sect Elder!

Yue Qingxue's lips thinned almost imperceptibly.

Her fingers, resting on the polished railing of the VIP box, tightened fractionally, leaving shallow grooves, lightly steaming with hoarfrost, in the wood.

Outwardly, however, her composure remained flawless, her expression unreadable.

She gave a single curt, almost imperceptible nod.

Lin Feng, down in the arena, grinned in response, his earlier excitement now mixed with a fierce determination. He clearly hadn't caught on to the subtle subtext of his Master's original statement or Shadow's response. He only heard a "challenge accepted"; a chance to test his prodigious talents against a mysterious, undeniably powerful Martial Grandmaster.

His young hands twitched in anticipation, the Earth-aspected Qi beginning to gather around him like a nascent storm.