Chapter 10: The Fierce and Mighty Tiger

"Ha!"

With a shout that channeled his breath, the force within him surged in endless cycles. Duguy Bieli's dark hair whipped wildly about him, his appearance more demon than man, his gaze fathomless. His left arm swept forward in another strike, a streak like a shooting star—unstoppable, inexorable—hurtling in an instant toward the tiger’s brow.

Smack!

The tiger gave a hearty roar, tilting his head as his right elbow rose, left elbow flicking outward, parrying and countering with frightening precision. His left forearm lashed out from within, serpentine and powerful, like a monstrous python twisting, a great dragon lashing its tail.

With a slap of his right hand, Duguy Bieli borrowed the force to retreat.

The first round was over.

No victor. No vanquished.

Yet, in the eyes of some commanders, the outcome was clear—victory and defeat already decided.

After all, between offense and defense, there is a difference; if an attack is worth ten, defense must be twelve, and to remain unmoving as the tiger had, that required thirteen or fourteen. In just those two exchanges, strength and weakness were revealed, the difference in level plain to see.

"Excellent, not bad at all. As expected, you are anything but ordinary." The tiger, sweeping away his previous aura of might, ferocity, and violence, shook his arms and laughed as he praised, "With only two springs of force opened, yet able to battle ten rounds in succession, and now capable of such a powerful attack, you have already grasped the essence unique to true warriors. It’s astonishing; your breakthrough to the rank of general is within reach. Moreover, your strength has completely surpassed the fivefold limit and reached another realm. If you did not come from a powerful family with special techniques, but achieved this through your own contemplation and hard work, then you are a rare prodigy in the Eastern Wastes. Should someone with the insight to recognize and nurture you appear, your future would be limitless. You could rise to the rank of marquis or chancellor—it is not impossible."

"What? Such high praise for him?"

"It might be true—his potential is astounding..." Many cultivators began to murmur, their voices tumbling in a confused uproar.

"Silence!" Duguy Bieli frowned, pondering his next move. His mind soon settled, his spirit grew calm. He raised one hand high and struck through the air.

"Bieli—Blade!"

From soldier to warrior, from general to commander, all relied on mastery of combat skills. Only by breaking through to the rank of Adept or higher—becoming one with the world, breathing in rhythm with heaven and earth, comprehending the laws and techniques—could one ascend to a new level of battle. Though in the primordial world, “martial arts” had long fallen behind, at this stage, the martial essence honed in his past life was still a powerful aid.

Hiss—

Blade intent condensed, mingled with force, transforming into a dazzling arc of light. This blade gleamed with a chill unrivaled, not much dimmer than the ten suns flaring in the archaic sky. It split the air like shears through silk—hiss—cutting through all obstacles, descending with deadly precision!

Blade intent gathered, blade momentum unmatched, resonating with a subtle, mysterious rule!

"Roar~"

The tiger sensed the danger in this move, a deeper threat lurking within. He bellowed preemptively, force surging forth. Both arms swept out, channeling power in a direct, fierce counter.

Boom!

The blade light shattered like ten suns exploding, scattering thousands of razor-sharp beams in all directions, scorching and searing. Each was like a steel needle, piercing flesh and bone, impossible to defend against—an indiscriminate assault that enveloped all.

The Blade of Separation—life and death divided!

In the unseen, it was as if a host of underworld gods chanted in unison, their ancient, somber syllables imbued with a peculiar power, summoning mysterious laws to annihilate their target.

The intent of the blade!

Icy and pitiless, it struck at the very soul, severing vitality, dividing life and death, bypassing the flesh to assault the spirit directly. Though the blade’s light was shattered, its intent erupted, like a volcano suppressed for millennia, now wildly unleashed.

"Not good!" The tiger could not see it, but instinct warned him of imminent peril. His cultivator’s senses shrieked at him to withdraw at the last instant. He thrust out his force, buttressed his will, and conjured a massive toothed shield that spun at blinding speed, using his spirit to grind down the blade’s intent.

Hiss—hiss—

In the center of the empty arena, sparks flared into existence, as if two invisible weapons clashed furiously, flickering on and off like stars in the night—brilliant, dazzling. Dark currents spilled out, slicing the stone floor of the arena in jagged lines, each cut an inch deep.

"What a technique, what a unique attack—such a young warrior, yet he’s grasped the art of attacking the spirit itself. I truly wasn’t mistaken about him... Hm?" The tiger voiced his approval, but then paused, his expression turning strangely unsettled. He lifted his left hand and wiped his brow, finding nothing amiss.

Another heartbeat passed, and as confusion flickered in his eyes, a thin red line suddenly appeared on his forehead, a line as fine as thread.

Blade momentum!

Though the blade’s light was crushed and its intent dispersed, the final, formless momentum of the blade now revealed its edge.

Even Duguy Bieli himself was unaware that what he had grasped as "momentum" had already transcended pure martial arts, touching upon the realm of laws, though his level was still too shallow, its lethality waning.

The tiger, of course, could not have foreseen this, and even if he had, evasion would have been nearly impossible. Fortunately, the blade’s momentum was not profound, but crude and shallow, leaving only a single wound. Otherwise, it would have meant a severed head, soul banished forever.

The tiger was wounded. His gaze changed instantly—ferocity and violence surged from within, swirling around his body, faster and faster, the wind howling like a hundred ghosts wailing in the night.

"To have wounded me—to have drawn blood—you have every right to be proud and satisfied." The tiger’s expression darkened, his voice low and hoarse, rasping like metal on stone. He spoke slowly, each word striking the heart like a hammer. "All this time, you have been on the attack, and I on the defense. Now, it is my turn to attack, and yours to defend."

Boom—

As when he first entered, the tiger’s might was overwhelming. He stomped his feet and the entire arena groaned, nearly collapsing. Dust exploded upward, trailing behind the tiger as he charged, forming a dragon of smoke that coiled and writhed.

Before Duguy Bieli could react, the tiger was upon him. Power surged through his veins, bones crackled, his already massive frame swelling another two feet. Hair bristled, standing erect like a coat of needles. The force channeling through his arms multiplied, and with a thunderous roar, he brought them crashing down as if uprooting a mountain and swinging it overhead, casting darkness over all within a half-pace radius.

"Break!"

Duguy Bieli gathered his strength and met the blow head-on. His spine flexed, joints shuddered like a dragon’s tremor, unleashing boundless energy. His arm curved upward, fist blazing like fire to meet the tiger’s arm.

Boom!

Stone dust erupted, spreading rapidly from Duguy Bieli at the center, blasting out in all directions. A sharp crack resounded as the giant stones forming the arena beneath his feet splintered with jagged fissures, snaking wildly across the ground.

Boom!

Before the crowd could react or even discern what was happening, the tiger had already unleashed a second strike. His arms, like pillars of heaven crashing down, stirred the wind and clouds, dimmed sun and moon, and seemed to shake the very mountains and rivers. Even the void itself seemed unable to bear the force, groaning in protest.

"So strong!" Duguy Bieli had no chance to escape the melee. He bent one knee, slid a leg back, dropped into a horse stance, his arms crossed defensively, power surging through them like a torrent, forming a seal—mirroring the tiger’s previous method of defense almost exactly.

It seemed he, too, had something to prove.

Buzz—

As the tiger’s arms crashed down, the cultivators around the arena felt the whole world tremble and sway, vision blurring.

Such overwhelming force fell like the wrath of heaven itself, peerless and ferocious, shattering all obstacles, crushing any resistance utterly.

—Endorsement and recommendation from the editors of the Rising Wave web portal for their collection of hot novels—