CHAPTER 61: TOURNAMENT [5]

From the Fang Clan’s viewing stand, Fang Tian slowly rose to his feet.

His arms were crossed, but his eyes gleamed with sharp light.

"Looks like Little Yang practiced extra hard," he muttered, a rare flicker of pride crossing his face.

Beside him, Fang Mei leaned forward, hands clenched tightly in her lap.

Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered, "Please don’t fail..."

On either side of her, Fang Rui and Fang Bo, usually restless sat still for once, their gazes locked on the figure standing alone in the swirling dust.

Down below, Fang Yang stood tall amidst the cracked stone.

His robes fluttered in the aftermath of Zhao Lu’s relentless assault. Dust settled slowly around his boots like snowfall.

But he didn’t waver.

He inhaled slowly... and then let his blade fall.

Clang.

The tip struck the ground with a soft chime—gentle, almost reverent.

And then, light surged.

Twin silver lines glowed from the blade’s core, humming with restrained force.

"Tyrant Light Sword—First Strike: Divine Line!" he declared.

The lines shot forward, clean, controlled beams of qi, straight and sharp like arrows of starlight.

Zhao Lu’s eyes widened. He raised his arms instinctively, qi flaring to shield.

BOOM!

The first line struck, staggering him back.

CRACK!

The second hit, shattering a portion of his shoulder guard and sending a ripple through his golden qi.

Zhao Lu steadied himself, panting, a thin cut bleeding across his upper arm.

He grit his teeth, glaring across the stage.

"You dare use the same technique twice...?" he spat, wiping the blood.

"Tch. Fancy tricks won’t save you twice!"

He stomped forward, stance wide.

"Zhao Clan Secret Style—Perfect Harmony!"

A swirling force of yin and yang qi spun from his palms, light and dark, heat and frost, spiraling together into a balanced vortex of elemental fury.

The arena floor cracked again under the pressure.

Fang Yang raised his sword.

The glow had faded.

But his feet slid into a firm stance.

He whispered under his breath—

"Again."

And his blade lit up once more, this time trembling faintly with a third unstable line.

It sputtered. Faded.

But the two existing beams reignited stronger.

"Tyrant Light Sword—Second Strike... Star form!"

A sweeping arc.

Two beams this time but from different angles.

One from above. One from the side.

They crossed midair like converging starlight, crashing into Zhao Lu’s swirling Perfect Harmony vortex just as it roared forward, a maelstrom of elemental chaos.

BOOM!

An explosion of blinding light erupted across the arena, white and gold flaring so bright that even the protective formations flickered.

The stands rocked. Dust and fractured stone flew outward.

Spectators gasped and instinctively shielded their faces, qi barriers snapping up across the VIP box.

And then there was absolutely silence for a short while.

As the light slowly faded, the stage came back into view.

Fang Yang stood tall at the center.

His sword was scorched and shaking slightly in his grip, sleeves torn, a thin line of blood trailing from the corner of his mouthbbut he stood.

Across from him, Zhao Lu lay crumpled on the ground.

Zhao Lu’s eyes trembled. His lips parted, but no sound came.

He looked at his fists as if they belonged to someone else.

As if they had betrayed him.

His Body was twitching faintly.

Unwilling.

Unwilling to admit defeat.

Unwilling to move.

But unable all the same.

The referee hesitated only a moment, then stepped forward.

"Match over! The winner—Fang Yang of the Fang Clan!!"

A roar exploded from the Fang section, cheers echoing like thunder.

Fang Bo whooped, practically jumping over the railing. "He actually did it! He really did it!"

Fang Rui pounded a fist to his chest. "Tch, show-off. But damn if it wasn’t cool."

Fang Mei’s hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide with disbelief and pride.

"He pulled it off... he really did..."

Beside her, Fang Tian gave a rare smile, slow and calm.

"You did well, Little Yang," he said, his voice low.

"More than well."

Fang Yang stumbled a little on the walk back.

But before his knees could give, Fang Bo and Rui were already there, slapping him on the back, catching his arms.

"You’re a freak, you know that?" Fang Rui grinned.

"We’re buying you something expensive after this," Fang Bo added.

Fang Mei stood and walked toward him with a soft smile.

"You scared the life out of me," she whispered. "But... I’m proud of you."

Even Fang Tian gave him a firm nod.

No words this time.

Just approval shining in his eyes.

Fang Yang exhaled, still shaky, but his eyes burned brighter than ever.

He had won.

Not because he was the strongest—

But because in that moment, when it mattered most...

He refused to fall.

Up in the elevated viewing booth, the atmosphere had taken a sharp turn.

The heads of the Five Great Families sat in a loose semicircle, but all four pairs of eyes were now pointed in one direction, toward Fang Chen.

Zhao Ming was the first to break the silence, though his voice was tight, his smile strained. "Well now. That was... unexpected."

He Long chuckled, arms crossed as he leaned back comfortably in his seat.

"I didn’t recognize the boy at all. Where’ve you been hiding him, Brother Fang? That was no fluke."

He jabbed a playful elbow toward Zhao Ming.

"And to think your descendant lost to him. Hah!"

Zhao Ming’s brow twitched.

Matriarch Lin Xi’s gaze never wavered from Fang Chen.

Her smile was graceful, eyes sharp like a needle hidden in silk.

"Your clan head did say we would be surprised," she said, voice lilting like a songbird, though every word struck with precise weight.

"But I didn’t expect it would be this kind of surprise."

She leaned forward, folding her hands under her chin. "Now I’m excited. How about you, Brother Fang?"

And just like that, all eyes, Zhao Ming’s narrowed gaze, He Long’s amused smirk, Wu Shun’s unreadable stare behind his glasses turned toward Fang Chen.

He could feel the pressure like four mountains slowly tilting toward him.

He straightened his robes, smiled politely, and nodded with diplomatic calm.

"It seems... our juniors have been more diligent than I thought."

Outwardly composed. Inwardly?

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Dear nephew!

Get out of seclusion already!!

Your uncle is about to be eaten alive by tigers in robes and spiritual perfume!

I’m just a Peak Qi Transformation, why do I have to sit next to four Golden Core monsters?!

Fang Chen reached for his tea with a steady hand but inside, his soul was sobbing.