The sky burned copper as the two figures stood facing each other atop shattered earth. Smoke and dust still curled from the previous explosion, and amidst the ruins, only two men remained—gasping, wounded, yet unyielding.
Xuan Di wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His body was covered in wounds, his breath ragged, but his eyes still blazed. Across from him, Yan Zhian had planted his sword into the ground, propping himself up as his strength waned. Yet his aura flared once more—brighter, more terrifying.
"This is the last time I hold back, Xuan Di," Yan Zhian murmured. "You're my disciple… but also my opponent. If you can't stop me now, you'll fall like the rest."
Xuan Di chuckled hoarsely. "I… don't need your pity, Master. Maybe you taught me too much… or not enough."
He stepped forward, his foot striking the earth. Shadows cloaked his form, and the illusory dragon reappeared behind his back. Cold energy engulfed him.
"Shadow Dragon Incarnate."
Yan Zhian took a deep breath. Crimson light emerged from his body, and from beneath his sleeve, a hidden red jade charm began to glow.
"If you insist…" he hissed, "then I'll show you why I was once called the strongest swordsman of my generation."
He raised the charm toward the sky.
"Crimson Heavenslayer Slash!"
The heavens groaned as the forbidden technique was unleashed. A crimson blade of light descended from the clouds, splitting the heavens. The surrounding spiritual energy collapsed. Birds scattered into the sky, animals fled the forests in panic. This was no ordinary strike—it was a verdict.
Xuan Di lunged, his body a blur of shadow. He danced through the air, twisting and striking, his dragon illusion spiraling like a storm. In an instant, they clashed. A blast of spiritual energy shook the earth.
Boom!
A shockwave hurled boulders into the air. Trees toppled. The ground cracked open, forming a massive crater at the heart of the battlefield. Xuan Di's body was flung dozens of meters, smashing against a large rock with a sickening crunch. He coughed violently, blood spraying from his lips.
But he forced himself to rise again. His legs trembled, one arm hung limp, but his gaze… still burned.
"Just one more…" he muttered. "Just… one more step…"
Yan Zhian approached slowly, each step heavy. His body was far from unscathed—his shoulder torn, his left arm trembling—but he still stood taller than his disciple.
"One step? No, Xuan Di. You've already gone too far. And now… your time is up."
He lifted his sword—not with anger, but sorrow.
"I loved you as a disciple. But because of that… I must be the one to bring you down."
Xuan Di gave a bitter smile. "You've always been that way, Master. Guiding with one hand… destroying with the other…"
Boom!
A final slash. Crimson light streaked through the air, and Xuan Di could no longer evade. His shadow dragon technique shattered, dissolving into the air. His body staggered… then dropped to its knees.
He fell silent.
Unmoving.
Silence reigned.
The wind carried dust and dry leaves through the air. Yan Zhian stood before his disciple's body. For a moment, he hoped Xuan Di would rise again, fight back as always.
But he didn't.
That figure lay still. Still breathing… but unconscious.
"…I'm sorry," Yan Zhian whispered. "If the world wasn't so cruel… maybe I could've let you win."
He turned his face away, hiding the tears threatening to fall.
"My student… rest for now. The world is not yet ready to see you rise."
To Be Continued…