Watching Xiao Ning crumple to the ground in defeat so cleanly and swiftly, the crowd below the platform fell silent for a single breath — then erupted into clamor. The shock that had not yet fully settled within their chests surged up once more, churning and swelling.
Every young member of the Xiao clan stared open-mouthed at the boy who now lay upon the stage, blood spilling from his lips, his body gone limp. They all knew precisely what Xiao Ning was capable of, for they were his peers. Among the younger generation of the clan, except for the one girl Xun'er who could press him back a step, Xiao Ning had all but no equal. Yet now, in the span of two brief clashes, he had been routed utterly — swept away as though he were nothing at all. Such a reversal left every witness reeling, wholly unprepared for the sight.
Below the platform, Xiao Yu watched the collapse of her brother Xiao Ning, and her comely face was painted over with disbelief. Her delicate lips, slightly parted, betrayed the turmoil within her heart.
It was a long moment before she roused herself. A faint blush crept up the pale column of her throat, and she murmured softly to herself: "That little wretch — when did he grow so strong? Has he truly had spare time, even while he was grinding away at the cultivation of his Dou Qi, to learn Dou Techniques on the side?"
...
"Heh, young master Xiao Yan wields not only formidable Dou Qi, but he commands Dou Techniques with such polished mastery as well. Surely that must have cost Patriarch Xiao no small measure of effort." In the seats of honor, even Ya Fei — who had braced herself beforehand — had been struck by the young man's methods. After a moment's murmur, a strange light flickered in those alluring eyes, and she turned to Xiao Zhan with a beaming, graceful smile.
To master such advanced Dou Techniques, one had to be personally guided in their secrets. It seemed Ya Fei had taken Xiao Zhan to be the one quietly tutoring his son on the side.
Xiao Zhan let out a rueful, helpless laugh and shook his head slowly. Not only had he never once instructed Xiao Yan in any Dou Technique — even had he wished to, he could not have taught the boy the baffling techniques just witnessed on that stage. For all his knowledge of the clan's arts, he had never even heard of such techniques existing among them.
And since no one in the clan had ever set eyes upon them, there could be but one explanation: the Dou Techniques Xiao Yan had just used were not of the Xiao clan at all.
"If they are not the clan's techniques, then where could Yan'er have learned them?" Puzzled, Xiao Zhan let his gaze drift toward the elders of the house — only to find them staring back at him with strange, questioning looks.
Meeting those stares, Xiao Zhan blinked, then understood with a wry start. They, too, believed he was the one feeding his son these arts on the sly, did they?
He shrugged helplessly and could not be bothered to explain. His gaze returned to the black-robed youth standing upon the stage, and he murmured to himself: "Heh... this lad of mine carries quite a few secrets after all."
...
On the platform, the Second Elder looked upon the collapsed Xiao Ning, and, shaking off his own shock, shook his head with an exasperated sigh, his gaze upon Xiao Yan grown complex.
The boy stood with his head bowed, a face still faintly youthful and delicate, and upon it lay nothing but calm — not a trace of the smug arrogance that might follow a victory.
The Second Elder heaved a sigh, then slowly lifted his withered hand, ready to cry out the end of the contest. Yet as the words gathered on his tongue, his face suddenly twisted in alarm.
In the distance, Xiao Ning, who had lain sprawled upon the ground, sprang up like a crouching hunting leopard. The faint Dou Qi that had clung to him but moments ago suddenly flared and swelled in an instant. His foot stamped savagely against the wooden boards, and his form shot forward, chips of wood scattering from the point of his charge.
His eyes were fixed upon the approaching Xiao Yan with a murderous cold, and the blood at the corners of his mouth gave his features a grotesque, savage cast: "Little wretch — die!"
"Xiao Ning, stand down!"
The abrupt change stunned the Second Elder for a breath, and then he bellowed. But Xiao Ning, his head engulfed by fury and envy, paid his cry no mind at all. Riding the drugged power of the Vitality-Enhancing Powder he had swallowed, he hurled himself at Xiao Yan, his teeth grinding and clenched.
The sudden shift upon the stage threw the whole gathering into a fresh uproar. On the seats of honor, Xiao Zhan and the others felt their faces turn pale in an instant — for they could sense with perfect clarity that Xiao Ning, at this very moment, had already burst into the strength of a Dou Warrior!
"He has taken the Vitality-Enhancing Powder!" It was Ya Fei, with her sharp eyes, who recognized it first. Her pretty face tightened, and she spoke the words in a low, hard voice.
"Curse him!" Xiao Zhan's face grew even darker at the call. He slammed his fist into the table before him, and cracks like a spider's web sprawled outward from the point of impact. He swung his head around, glaring at the Great Elder, whose face had likewise changed, with no shred of civility: "Old wretch — if any harm comes to my son, your grandson will pay with more than his life!"
The potential Xiao Yan now held within him was far beyond what a single Xiao Ning could ever match. Had the boy suffered some irreversible, mortal injury in this contest because of Xiao Ning's foul play — even with the Great Elder for a sponsor, the clan would not have let the matter rest easily.
Stared down by Xiao Zhan with eyes like a ravening wolf, the Great Elder's withered face twitched faintly, and his mouth tasted bitter and dry. Had Xiao Yan still been the Xiao Yan of old, a grave wound might have been suffered and seen as no great matter. But now... even were the clan to cast aside its own Great Elder, they would not abandon this child — the one who might one day grow into a Dou Huang.
...
On the platform, the Second Elder's shouted warning accomplished nothing at all. The space between them had shrunk to almost nothing, and Xiao Ning was upon Xiao Yan in the space of a single lunge. Dou Qi condensed at a furious pace around both his fists, and he roared with a grating snarl: "Iron Mountain Fist!"
So violent was the surge of his newfound strength that even this Iron Mountain Fist now carried with it a vicious, crushing pressure of air.
That pressure ruffled the hair across Xiao Yan's brow, baring a pair of clear, cold black eyes.
Facing Xiao Ning's ferocious blow, Xiao Yan — to everyone's surprise — did not retreat. His right hand clenched into a fist, his body bent low, poised like a great lion gathering itself to spring. For a single breath he held utterly still, and then his form shot forward like an arrow loosed from the string.
Seeing that Xiao Yan meant to meet the drugged Xiao Ning head-on, the Second Elder stamped his foot in fury: "You fool!"
"Eight Pole Collapse!"
A dull roar sounded deep in his own heart. And before the Second Elder's horrified, disbelieving gaze, Xiao Yan's fist met Xiao Ning's fist with a heavy, brutal clash.
"Bang!" The two fists met midair, and for a moment all was still — then Xiao Ning's savage face drained swiftly to a bloodless white, blood streaming steadily from the corners of his mouth.
His own face cold and impassive, Xiao Yan flicked his arm — and it seemed even his sleeve snapped and crackled with the force. He drove his fist forward another inch, and Xiao Ning's form, caught like a single withered leaf in a gale, was hurled clean off the high platform, tumbling down through a sea of horrified gazes.
At the sight, the Second Elder's pupils shrank violently, and he could not help but draw in a long, cold breath. The black-robed silhouette of that youth on the stage — somehow, in that very instant, it seemed to grow strange and mysterious before his eyes.