The heart of the druidic town was a peaceful place—normally. The towering trees wove into the very foundation of the settlement, their thick branches cradling platforms, bridges, and dwellings that blended seamlessly into nature. Emerald lanterns pulsed softly, their light casting shifting shadows upon the wooden walkways.
But today, the town's peace was shattered.
A ring of onlookers had gathered in the central plaza, their whispers mingling with the distant hum of the forest. Warriors, prodigies, and nobles alike stood in quiet anticipation. Word had spread like wildfire—two titans from rival clans were about to clash.
In the center of the plaza stood Shin Aoren, the Azure Dragon Clan's strongest warrior beneath Raikai. His Eternal Arms, a spear forged from lightning-imbued steel, pulsed with restrained energy in his grip. Sparks danced along the length of the weapon, its tip exuding a faint glow. His expression was ice-cold, his obsidian eyes locked onto his opponent with unwavering focus.
Facing him was Torra Yun, the Diamond Fangs of the Ancient White Tiger Clan. His Eternal Arms, twin tonfas crafted from a near-indestructible mineral, gleamed under the light. Their edges were honed to perfection, designed to shatter even the toughest defenses. Unlike Shin Aoren's calm intensity, Torra Yun bore a confident grin, his muscled frame radiating unshakable resilience.
The gathered warriors held their breath. Though allies, neither man would hold back.
Shinryu, standing beside Raikai and Xue Mor, nodded approvingly. "A battle like this will show the younger ones what true warriors are."
Raikai grinned, already itching to test himself next. "This is going to be good."
At the center of the ring, Shin Aoren's voice cut through the air like steel. "A dragon does not refuse a challenge. Are you ready?"
Torra Yun rolled his shoulders, bringing his tonfas up. "Always."
The moment the words left his mouth—
Lightning exploded.
The Duel Begins
Shin Aoren launched forward, his spear thrusting at the speed of a lightning bolt.
Torra Yun's eyes barely had time to track the incoming strike. He twisted, his tonfa deflecting the spear's tip with a sharp metallic clang. The force sent him skidding back, his boots carving grooves into the wooden floor.
But Aoren didn't relent. The Azure Dragon's assault was relentless. His spear became a blur—thrusting, sweeping, spinning—each attack carrying a terrifying force behind it.
Torra Yun gritted his teeth. He couldn't allow Aoren to control the pace.
His foot slammed into the ground—the wood beneath him cracked as he used the force to surge forward, meeting Aoren head-on.
Tonfas clashed against spear. Each strike sent shockwaves rippling through the plaza.
Torra Yun struck low, aiming for Aoren's ribs—Aoren twisted mid-air, dodging by a hair's breadth.
He retaliated with a downward spear thrust—Torra Yun crossed his tonfas, catching the shaft between them before twisting sharply, forcing Aoren to reposition.
The crowd gasped. The duel was becoming a dance—raw power meeting technical mastery.
But Aoren was far from done.
He spun the spear behind his back, switching his grip—then shot forward, spear lancing toward Torra Yun's chest.
Torra Yun reacted purely on instinct. He shifted his stance, his tonfas striking the spear's shaft at an angle—redirecting its path just enough for him to sidestep.
For the first time, Aoren's attack missed.
The realization flashed in Aoren's eyes. A test. Aoren fought as though every battle was life or death, but Torra Yun? He fought as if he had already survived worse.
The crowd roared, warriors watching in awe.
But Aoren was still faster.
With a sharp twist of his wrist, he retracted his spear and unleashed a lightning-infused sweep.
**Torra Yun barely blocked in time—**but the force sent him flying backward, crashing into the stone railing that lined the plaza.
Splinters flew. Blood dripped from Torra Yun's lip.
But he was smiling.
Aoren landed, his spear aimed forward, stance unshaken. "Stand down, Torra Yun."
Torra Yun wiped the blood away, rolling his shoulders as if the hit had been nothing.
"No," he said simply.
Then, he roared.
His muscles tensed, his entire body hardening like an unbreakable fortress. The Iron Body Cultivation of the Ancient White Tiger Clan surged forth.
The next moment—he charged.
Aoren's spear shot forward to intercept—but this time, Torra Yun didn't block.
He took the attack head-on, the spear's tip piercing his hardened skin—only for his tonfa to slam into Aoren's side with bone-crushing force.
Aoren's body whipped sideways, the impact shattering the air around them.
But he wasn't done yet.
Before he could even hit the ground—he twisted midair, spear flashing in a horizontal arc.
Torra Yun barely raised his tonfas in time to block—but the impact sent both warriors flying back.
The two landed, sliding to a stop, both breathing heavily.
The Verdict
A heavy silence followed. Neither moved for a long moment.
Then—Torra Yun's tonfas lowered.
Aoren stood still, spear still in hand, but something in his expression shifted.
"Your defense is unparalleled," Aoren admitted, his voice cold but filled with reluctant respect. "And unlike me, you don't hesitate to take a blow to land your own."
The crowd murmured. Had it been a draw?
But Aoren exhaled sharply and did something unexpected—he lowered his spear.
"I did not win," he said, voice firm. "My Eternal Arms and Death Arms are too similar—I lacked the flexibility to break your stance." He turned toward the gathered warriors. "Torra Yun should lead. I will be his second."
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd, but Shinryu only smirked.
Raikai burst into laughter. "That's Aoren for you. His pride won't allow him to call a draw, so he admits his loss outright instead."
Torra Yun stared at Aoren for a moment before chuckling. "Fine. I'll take the lead."
The decision was made.
An Unwanted Guest
Before the celebration could begin, however—
A slow, mocking clap rang out.
The warriors turned.
A figure strode forward, flanked by followers clad in obsidian robes.
The teen at the center bore an arrogant smirk, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice sharp like a blade. "Is this what the so-called strongest clans have to offer?"
Raikai's eyes narrowed. "And who the hell are you?"
The teen's smirk widened.
"I am Tian Zhen of the Black Lotus Sect."
He spread his arms dramatically.
"And I have come to humble you."