"Lin Zhengli of Riverview City. Zhao Tiehe of Three Mountain City. Begin!"
The judge's command fell, and both men's hands flew into seals at dizzying speed.
Only one difference: Lin Zhengli stood rooted, calm. Zhao Tiehe sealed as he charged.
Two opposing styles, colliding before anyone knew the outcome.
Earth essence gathered; sharp stone spikes burst from the ground.
The same opening move as Yang Xiong's — but Yang Xiong had used his spikes for defense. Zhao Tiehe used his for attack.
A wave formed from nothing, lifting Lin Zhengli out of the spikes' path.
Rising Tide, a high-grade Ding-rank art, a water-element movement technique.
Zhao Tiehe's seals completed. He raised both hands, and the spikes tore free of the earth, hurling themselves at Lin Zhengli in a storm of stone.
Yang Xiong had driven his spikes with raw physical force for a second attack. Zhao Tiehe manipulated the art itself — a true second-stage evolution, a genuine reinvention of the technique!
Lin Zhengli hung in the air, Rising Tide spent. He seemed finished. But his fingers, never idle, flicked once — and the wave beneath him surged, birthing a second wave from within itself, carrying him away from the spike storm at the last instant.
He too had shown the art's second-stage evolution.
This was the true clash of Dao arts. Two academy traditions, Three Mountain and Riverview, revealing their depths — because innovations in the basic arts were what truly elevated an academy's strength.
Lin Zhengli dodged again and again. Zhao Tiehe pressed on, foot stamping the ground, launching himself upward into an uppercut — his fist wrapped in layer after layer of stone.
Stone-Clad Fist.
A near-perfect echo of Yang Xiong's art, answering Lin Zhengli's sneer of "weaklings pecking."
Lin Zhengli still hadn't touched ground, with nowhere to go. His fingers flicked again.
A wave from within the wave, carrying him clear once more.
Three-Fold Rising Tide.
An ordinary movement art, showing three stages of evolution in a single match. If the spikes' second stage had pushed their art to the limit of high-grade Ding-rank, the Three-Fold Tide had lifted a Ding-rank art into the Bing rank entirely. A leap in quality.
Zhao Tiehe's Stone-Clad Fist missed again. He had no time to be shocked — Lin Zhengli's counter was coming.
Having dodged and dodged on his hidden trump, Lin Zhengli finally completed his art.
All water essence on the field went mad. Waves rose from every direction, surging, colliding — one struck Zhao Tiehe full on. He flew like a man hit by a giant's fist, out of control.
In mid-air, a second wave hit him. He spat blood.
Waves crashed back and forth, and Zhao Tiehe tumbled like a torn sandbag, the sound dull and relentless.
A naked Bing-rank art. Raging Waves!
Lin Zhengli's face stayed serene — all the match-opening flippancy gone, replaced by the calm of a man who held everything in hand. He sealed rapidly, and at the moment the waves died, drew out a long vine whip, cracking it through the air.
Zhao Tiehe had no strength to fight back inside the Raging Waves. He curled up, head low, body tight, minimizing the surface he exposed.
The instant the waves ended, he uncoiled — and snatched the whip out of the air.
Blood still leaked from his lips. His clothes were rags, revealing a body mottled with bruises. He seemed to feel no pain at all; every Three Mountain City cultivator had that streak of ruthlessness. He gripped the whip and hauled, dragging Lin Zhengli toward him!
But Lin Zhengli let go. The whip whipped back, coiling around Zhao Tiehe like a live serpent, binding him tight.
The art he had used was not the mid-grade Ding-rank Green Vine Whip. It was the high-grade Ding-rank Vine Binding Art!
He had cast it, but not to bind — disguised as the Green Vine Whip, baiting Zhao Tiehe to grab it. And the trap had closed perfectly.
From the opening bell, every step Zhao Tiehe took had been counted. Even the words spoken before the match might have been a planted hook.
Lin Zhengli could reap his victory now.
Calmly, he completed his seal — and drew out a true Green Vine Whip, lashing the bound man without mercy.
But the vines on Zhao Tiehe burst apart. He rolled clear of the full-strength lash.
Only then did the crowd see the blood running down his body, the dense lattice of wounds. The ground was littered with stone chips and shredded vine.
Zhao Tiehe had armored himself in stone the moment the Raging Waves ended. Lin Zhengli might not have noticed; or noticed and not cared. Stone armor was a defensive art. It could not break a binding.
But the stone armor had exploded.
It blew his own flesh open — and blew the vines off his body.
It was savage to watch. Many turned away. Ling Chuan reached out and covered An'an's eyes.
And Zhao Tiehe, dragging his bloodied body, charged Lin Zhengli again.
No one knew why he didn't give up. Why he kept going.
It was just a Trial match, wasn't it?
It wasn't the county academy exam in the eleventh month. It didn't touch anyone's future!
The first-years' matches were watched from the sidelines. Sun Xiaoman's eyes never left the field.
Lin Zhengren turned to her. "At this point, does it have to continue, Miss Sun? Someone could die."
"Life or honor — I can't decide that for him." The barefoot girl, small as a child, didn't even turn her head.
Crack!
This time, Zhao Tiehe didn't dodge.
A deep lash mark opened, skin split.
But he hadn't meant to dodge. As the whip drew back, he seized its tip with one hand — and wound the whole vine around his own body, circling himself into it.
He walked toward Lin Zhengli, dragging the whip. On his fist, stone gathered slowly, slower than before — but still the Stone-Clad Fist.
Lin Zhengli had no choice but to let go of the art-forged whip. He jumped back, retreating. "Surrender! Keep this up and you'll die!"
"Surrender?" Zhao Tiehe smiled at him, grin widening. "We people of Three Mountain City... can't let you look down on us like this!"
He surged forward. The stone fist smashed down.
Boom!
Lin Zhengli leaped clear. The fist struck the ground, cratering it.
"You asked for it!" Lin Zhengli, mid-air, his hands already flying through seals. He refused to admit fear had crept into him, but he had decided on a crueler art — even if he couldn't control it, even if it killed.
The art was half-formed when he landed, timing perfect. He almost admired himself.
But there was a pit in the ground. No one had seen it dug, no one knew when.
Zhao Tiehe had laid it long before — earth essence channeled, the ground hollowed. The meanest art in the world, low-grade Ding-rank, named simply: Pit.
And it had landed perfectly.
Lin Zhengli's foot twisted. His stance collapsed, the prepared art dissolving. He recovered in an instant, twisting his body so he didn't fall.
But Zhao Tiehe was already on him, like a beast. He took Lin Zhengli down, pinned him flat to the ground.
That close, no art beyond instant casting meant anything.
Thud.
A fist slammed into a face.
"I'm not a mountain savage!"
Thud. Thud.
"I am... a cultivator of Three Mountain City, Clear River County, State of Zhuang! Zhao... Tie... he!"
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Fist after fist.
Off-field, Lin Zhengren's eyelids jumped with every blow, as if they landed on his own face.
"Concede!" he shouted.