Chapter 245: The Spear That Broke the Dragon

The western crags swallowed the last sliver of the sun, casting long, crimson shadows across the mountain stadium. Deep purple hues bled into the twilight sky, illuminated only by the burning golden glow of the floating sky-screens.

[GRAND FINALS]

Lin Xiaobao vs. Shen Hang

Ten thousand spectators sat frozen in the stone tiers, their breath held so tight that not a single silk hem rustled against the seats. Down in the courtyard, six thousand four hundred disciples stood rigidly in formation, their eyes locked onto the solitary, three-hundred-foot blue jade platform floating in the center of the world.

Shen Hang stepped onto the jade slab. He carried no custom treasure or forged relic. In his right hand, he held a plain, unadorned iron disciple spear pulled from the common rack. Passing his heavy weapon to his left hand, he reached into the leather supply box beside the ring and snapped six metallic 9-Star Weight Bracelets onto his wrists—three on the left, three on the right.

CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK!

Fifty-four stars of artificial gravity locked onto his upper body. The blue runes flared brilliantly, his boots sinking a quarter-inch into the jade floorboards as his meridians surged to hold his posture straight against the leaden pressure.

Across the ring, Lin Xiaobao stood with his dark, standard-issue steel disciple saber held at a low forty-five-degree angle in his left hand. His empty right sleeve, pinned flat against his ribs, snapped violently in the evening breeze.

Neither man spoke. No taunts were traded, no formal bows exchanged. They simply locked eyes—cold steel meeting unyielding iron.

BOOM!

The final gong struck.

Both men vanished instantly.

Two deep, spiderweb craters exploded into the blue jade where their heels had rested a fraction of a second prior, stone dust erupting into the twilight air.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

Fifty feet above the arena floor, the air fractured. Two shadows materialized, blurs of silver and golden light colliding in mid-air. Steel slammed into iron five times in the space of a heartbeat—a horizontal sweep deflected upward, a diagonal thrust met by a whipping counter, an overhead chop turned aside by a flashing iron shaft. Their arms dissolved into phantom outlines, the sheer kinetic speed painting lines of white-hot friction across the dark sky.

With every strike, a visible, ring-shaped shockwave expanded outward, tearing through the mountain gale and scattering pulverized jade dust and residual qi sparks over the front rows of the spectator tiers.

BOOM!

They crashed back onto the stone floorboards simultaneously, their boots skidding across the slate, carving white grooves before they launched forward once more.

"Seven-Star Flash Saber: Autumn Storm!" Xiaobao’s voice cut through the howling wind.

His left arm dissolved into an intricate, silver blizzard. Dozens of surgical saber slashes rained down upon Shen Hang’s guard, targeting his wrists, neck, and torso with terrifying frequency.

Shen Hang didn’t step back an inch. Planting his back heel, he twirled his heavy iron spear in a tight, golden circle before his chest.

"Immortal Spear Art: Iron Wheel Deflection!"

The iron spearhead met the incoming blizzard of slashes in a rapid, continuous drumroll of metallic sparks. Metal bit into metal, white-hot embers spraying across the blue jade floorboards like fireworks.

Sensing his steel saber binding along the spear shaft, Xiaobao abandoned the weapon lock. He closed the distance in a fraction of a step, entering Shen Hang’s inner guard space. Pivoting on his left heel, Xiaobao drove his left knee straight toward Shen Hang’s ribs.

Shen Hang’s golden aura flared beneath his skin. He dropped his elbow, his brass-hued forearm absorbing the knee strike with a heavy, dull thud before he drove a short-range elbow check straight toward Xiaobao’s jaw.

Xiaobao flexed his core, his boots tapping off empty air as he executed Aerial Steps, twisting mid-sky to let the heavy elbow brush past his cheek.

"Sky-Splitting Slash!" Xiaobao shouted, twisting his torso mid-air to sweep his blade downward toward Shen Hang’s footing.

"Mountain-Breaking Fist!" Shen Hang bellowed in response, driving his open left palm downward into the incoming blade arc.

THUNDEROUS CRACK!

The collision of kinetic qi and sword-light shattered the central floorboards. A three-inch fissure ripped through the blue jade slab, sending floating gravel and dust clouding into the air.

Through the rising dust, both disciples blurred again. Their weapons clashed in a rapid flurry—upward cuts, diagonal parries, side-sweeps, and piercing thrusts—clashing thirty times across the perimeter of the platform in three seconds. Shockwaves detonated in rapid sequence, blowing away the dust cloud to reveal both men soaked in sweat, their orange-and-white tunic sleeves shredded, their breathing heavy and ragged.

Xiaobao’s steel saber was notched along its entire edge, small wisps of smoke rising from the cold metal. Shen Hang’s iron spear handle was bent and blackened from pure kinetic friction.

Shen Hang wiped a streak of blood from his lip with the back of his hand, his brass-hued skin glistening under the glowing golden sky-screens. "You’re pushing a single arm beyond its limits, Xiaobao!"

Xiaobao’s single hand tightened around his notched hilt, his golden pupils burning with an unyielding, fierce intensity. "Then break it if you can, Shen Hang!"

Xiaobao’s left boot slammed into the blue jade. The stone gave way beneath his heel with a sharp, spiderwebbing crack, stone grit exploding outward in a white ring.

He didn’t draw back his blade in a standard guard. Swinging his single arm in a wide, fluid sweep, the notched steel saber cut a blinding circle through the twilight air. Deep within his chest, three months of crushing, nine-star gravity compressed into his arm meridians detonated at once. Veins surged along his neck and temple, turning dark and taut against his skin as raw, unyielding physical density flooded the steel blade.

The air pressure inside the three-hundred-foot arena imploded with a deafening VACUUM THUD.

Xiaobao’s left boot slammed into the blue jade floorboards. The stone gave way beneath his heel with a sharp, spiderwebbing crack, stone grit exploding outward in a white ring.

He abandoned his notched steel saber, letting the broken metal clatter uselessly onto the floorboards. Drawing his single left fist back to his ribcage, he tightened his calloused fingers into an immovable iron knot. Deep within his core, three months of crushing, nine-star gravity compressed into his arm meridians detonated at once. Veins surged along his neck and temple, turning dark and taut against his skin as raw, unyielding spiritual energy flooded his arm.

The air pressure inside the three-hundred-foot arena imploded with a deafening VACUUM THUD.

As Xiaobao drove his fist straight forward in a brutal, straight thrust, the gathered spiritual energy erupted from his knuckles. A roaring, three-hundred-foot spectral dragon of condensed golden qi materialized from his fist, its translucent scales shimmering with violent light as it coiled around his single arm and surged across the open ring.

"Dragon Fist!" Xiaobao’s roar tore through his throat, shaking the dust off the surrounding cliffs.

The spectral golden dragon lunged forward, its gaping jaw formed of pure spiritual energy tearing through the air pressure to swallow everything in its path.

Across the ring, Shen Hang’s golden pupils dilated into fine, black points as the blinding spectral dragon filled his entire field of vision. The howling pressure wave flattened his tunic against his ribs, but his boots didn’t yield a single inch.

Sinking his weight low, his back leg locked like an iron brace against the fractured floorboards. He funneled every thread of his Golden Vein cultivation alongside the dormant, brass-hued power of his Immortal Spear Body into his core. His right palm slammed over the flat iron pommel of his spear with a violent, metallic CLACK.

"Immortal Spear Art: Sovereign Strike!" Shen Hang’s voice thundered at the absolute limit of his lungs.

He drove the iron spear forward in a singular, straight thrust.

A brilliant, piercing column of solid, golden spear-light erupted from the iron tip. The beam condensed into an unstoppable, needle-sharp battering ram that shot straight into the gaping, open throat of the incoming spectral dragon.

THUNDEROUS DETONATION!

The sky above the stadium split open in a blinding flash of white and amber light.

The collision of pure spiritual energy and spear-light detonated with apocalyptic force. A violent, golden shockwave ring expanded half a mile into the open void, blowing out the air across the mountain peak. The remaining three-hundred-foot blue jade platform disintegrated from the center out—slabs of blue stone pulverized into floating gravel, while the massive, dark ironwood borders snapped into thousands of flying splinters.

A massive, suffocating cloud of dust and shockwaves engulfed the entire central court, hiding both figures from sight as the physical blast struck the stone tiers, shaking the mountain foundation as if an ancient subterranean pulse had awakened beneath the peak.

Up in the air, deep within the blinding glare and blinding dust, the two forces gritted against each other in mid-air.

The scales of Xiaobao’s spectral golden dragon shuddered, but the sheer physical density of Shen Hang’s Golden Vein tier—backed by the ancient, unyielding weight of his Immortal Spear Body—driven behind the spear thrust slowly drove forward. Inch by inch, the needle-sharp spear-light pierced through the spiritual dragon’s jaws, splitting the phantom aura down its center like a chisel through glass.

CRACK-CRACK!

The spectral dragon shattered into a shower of golden sparks.

The barrier vanished completely. The remaining kinetic momentum of the Sovereign Strike slammed directly into Xiaobao’s chest plate. A heavy, dull thud echoed through the roar of the blast as the force blew the breath completely from his lungs. His eyes rolled back, his single fist uncurling as his consciousness vanished into total darkness.

Propelled by the violent blast, Xiaobao’s limp frame sailed backward through the settling dust cloud. His orange-and-white robe fluttered in the crosswind as his body arced downward, descending sixty feet through open air to land flat upon the polished white stone flags of the central courtyard below.

Silence—absolute, suffocating, and total—crashed over the ten-thousand-man stadium.

The thick cloud of pulverized jade dust slowly parted in the high-altitude gale.

Five feet above the void, Shen Hang stood balanced upon a single, two-foot fragment of broken blue stone. The shaft of his plain iron spear was snapped in half, the jagged wood smoking in his grip. The polished brass luster on his skin slowly dissolved back into pale flesh, sweat dripping off his chin as he heaved in deep, hoarse gasps for air. A thin line of crimson trickled down from his left nostril, and his arms trembled violently under the fifty-four stars of blue gravity bracelets still clamped to his wrists.

Down on the courtyard flags, Elder Hua and three assistants in white robes rushed forward, kneeling beside Xiaobao. Elder Hua pressed two fingers against the young disciple’s wrist, feeling the deep, steady pulse beneath the skin, before looking up toward the northern floating platform and raising her right hand.

Elder Wu stepped to the marble balustrade. His voice thundered down from the clouds, amplified by the mountain’s subterranean core to vibrate off every surrounding cliff face:

"Winner of the Intra-Sect Tournament of the Sanatan Flame Sect... Shen Hang!"

BOOM!

The entire stone stadium exploded into a sky-shaking, deafening roar. Capital merchants slammed their brass pipes against the armrests, visiting regional clan heads stood up from their gilded chairs, and six thousand four hundred disciples smashed their fists against the stone benches, cheering at the absolute limit of their lungs.

Up on the Peacock Feather Throne, Shaurya stood up smoothly. His dark coat billowed against the crimson silk behind him as he stepped to the edge of the floating platform. A calm, razor-sharp smile played on his lips, his golden pupils catching the final, deep-red glow of the setting sun as he looked down at the standing victor and the fallen prodigy resting on the peak.

To Be Continued...