"Amazing, your control is exceptional," Fang Wu comnted, his tone laced with genuine admiration.
Long Anming bowed her head slightly, the faint shimr of her dragon aura still lingering in the air.
She had taken the [Dragon’s Domination] technique and shaped it into sothing uniquely hers, a manifestation of both her pride and her unique bloodline.
When her display ended, Fang Wu’s gaze shifted toward the figure who stood calmly next to her.
"Next, Yu Xuan."
He called him by his na.
Yu Xuan stepped forward, his expression as calm as ever. His voice carried clear and steady through the field.
"Disciple Yu Xuan of the Elental Heaven Peak."
He inhaled once, exhaled and vanished.
A ripple of silence followed.
The disciples blinked, looking around in confusion. He hadn’t taken a step, hadn’t even shifted his stance, one mont he was there, the next he was simply gone.
High above, Fang Wu’s eyes narrowed.
"The [Unheard and Unseen Void Steps]..." he murmured.
Within the invisible space, Yu Xuan was not standing still.
His form flickered in and out of existence, weaving through the air as though walking paths no one else could see.
The technique produced no sound, his Qi blended seamlessly with the surrounding void, erasing his presence from both sight and sense.
Though it appeared effortless, the technique itself was a masterpiece of precision — balancing multiple layers of perception and control.
Every microsecond demanded perfect alignnt between his spiritual flow, gravitational pull, and the minute distortions of space itself.
One slip in rhythm, and he would collapse back into visibility.
For most cultivators, mastering such harmony would take ti.
But Yu Xuan, he made it look like breathing.
Only a few among the disciples could faintly perceive the distortions of air where he passed. To the rest, he was simply gone.
Of course, the observers above could follow his movents clearly — the Martial Ancestor’s sharp gaze tracking every flicker of movent, Fang Wu and Baotian stunned into silence, Wuji observing with thinly veiled jealousy, and Tianling... smiling.
As Yu Xuan passed overhead, he briefly turned his attention toward Tianling — the artifact spirit of the Mini Heaven Immortal Sect.
Tianling chuckled softly, lifting his hand in a lazy wave.
Yu Xuan nodded to him, before he shifted direction midair, his movent pattern changing like flowing wind.
For several seconds, he traced intricate paths across the sky.
Then, without fanfare, he reappeared in the exact spot he had begun, hands clasped behind his back as if nothing had happened. This was the legendary normal stance in Cultivation World.
The entire field was silent.
Fang Wu blinked once. Even he, a seasoned master who had seen countless prodigies, needed a mont to process what he’d just witnessed. The execution was flawless.
And what’s more, Yu Xuan had altered the technique.
The original [Unheard and Unseen Void Steps] had limitations. What Yu Xuan displayed was sothing purer, freer — an evolution rather than imitation.
After a long pause, Fang Wu sighed softly and said only one thing:
"Excellent execution."
His voice carried both praise and resignation, the quiet acceptance of soone realizing that even among geniuses, one could still stand above the rest.
Yu Xuan simply nodded, stepping back to his place, his expression composed and unbothered, as though what he had done was of no consequence.
The tension gradually lifted. A few more disciples stepped forward to perform their techniques, bright bursts of Qi, flashes of movent, elegant forms.
And then, as the murmurs began to rise again, Fang Wu’s gaze shifted to the next disciple.
"Then next, disciple Wu Jianxiao," he announced.
High above, his master, High Elder Wuji, crossed his arms, pride gleaming faintly in his sharp eyes.
Below, Wu Jianxiao stepped forward with precise, asured steps. His expression was cold, his eyes razor-sharp and filled with restrained hostility.
When his gaze flicked briefly toward Yu Xuan, it lingered just a heartbeat too long.
"Disciple Wu Jianxiao of the Martial Heaven Peak."
The words were clear, confident. With a smooth motion, he unsheathed his sword.
He lifted his gaze to the sky as though facing an unseen enemy and a crimson aura erupted around him. The sharp slaughter Qi spread through the air, heavy and suffocating. Behind him, a towering phantom took form, mirroring his stance, its eyes glowing an eerie scarlet.
The phantom’s features were twisted and cruel, a manifestation of slaughter itself.
Without warning, both swung their blades upward.
A crimson arc tore through the air, the sheer force shaking the ground beneath their feet. The strike seed to slice through the sky, its aftershock leaving faint scars.
A murmur of awe rippled through the disciples.
Fang Wu nodded slightly, expression calm but approving.
"The Slaughter God Technique — impressive control. To condense killing intent into form at his level... not bad at all."
Wuji’s eyes glead with satisfaction, though a trace of expectation lingered.
He was already looking beyond, toward the next person, his other disciple.
Wu Jianxiao sheathed his sword, his phantom fading into mist. He returned to his place, expression still cold, though a faint shadow crossed his face as his brother stepped forward.
"Disciple Wu Tianjian of the Martial Heaven Peak."
Unlike his brother’s killing aura, Wu Tianjian’s presence was calm, asured — like a golden sun rising over the battlefield.
He drew his sword in a single motion, the blade radiating dazzling light.
Instantly, the air trembled.
A sharp, divine pressure emanated from him, and golden Sword Qi surged outward, pure and untainted by malice.
Nine phantasmal swords manifested around him, orbiting like celestial stars.
He raised his sword. The nine phantoms mirrored him.
As he began his form, their motions synchronized perfectly, each phantom tracing a divine arc through the air, rging together above him into a single golden formation.
Then, Wu Tianjian struck.
The unified slash cleaved through the air, golden light exploding outward. The very space around the strike fractured, thin cracks spreading across the illusionary sky before nding themselves a heartbeat later.
Even Fang Wu and Wuji, both seasoned cultivators, narrowed their eyes.
’Perfect synchronization of intent and form,’ Fang Wu thought. ’His comprehension of sword intent has increased again.’
"Excellent, your form for Nine Heavens Sword was great." he said aloud, his voice carrying across the silent field.
Wuji’s lips curved in faint pride.
’As expected of my disciple.’
The light faded, and Wu Tianjian calmly sheathed his sword.
His gaze was composed, indifferent — yet when his eyes t Long Anming and Yu Xuan’s across the field, a quiet challenge flickered between them.
Several more disciples ca forward afterward, each displaying their techniques with varying degrees of skill. The atmosphere remained heavy with competitive energy; sparks of envy and admiration mixed freely in the air.
And then, silence fell again.
Fang Wu’s eyes drifted to the last remaining figure, the black-haired youth who had stood quietly since the beginning, his expression devoid of emotion.
"Next," Fang Wu said slowly, his voice carrying through the tense stillness.
"Disciple... Li Shen."
The youth stepped forward, his every motion unnaturally smooth — lifeless eyes reflecting no light, no emotion.
Even before he began, a chill spread through the air, subtle but unmistakable.
And even Yu Xuan turned to watch closely.
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