On the arena, three soul skills were unleashed in rapid succession:
"First Soul Skill: Bind!"
"Third Soul Skill: Spider Web Restraint!"
"Fourth Soul Skill: Blue Silver Prison!"
After executing these three soul skills back-to-back—on top of his earlier exertion—Tang San's face paled instantly.
Yet, his efforts bore fruit—all three skills landed flawlessly on Xiao Tianyang.
This precision was no accident. Over time, Tang San had honed his understanding of his soul skills to a remarkable degree.
One key aspect was the delay between activation and effect—what Xiao Tianyang referred to as the lag phase.
Tang San had meticulously timed the intervals of his first, third, and fourth soul skills.
Like nested dolls, the restraints layered over Xiao Tianyang, each one larger than the last.
Truthfully, had this tactic not been Xiao Tianyang's own suggestion, anyone else would have been caught completely off guard.
Bind erupted from the ground with swiftness, carrying a trace of the parasitic ability from his second soul skill.
Of course, as a first-tier skill, it had its weakness—fragility.
Thus, the Spider Web Restraint followed immediately, reinforcing the bindings.
In reality, the first two skills were merely setup for the Blue Silver Prison.
The fourth skill's delay was its greatest flaw—giving the enemy four to five seconds to react.
Against an opponent of equal strength, Tang San was certain no one could evade it.
But Edward?
That was a different story.
He could avoid it effortlessly.
Though Tang San had never witnessed Edward fighting at full power, in his eyes, the man's combat prowess matched Xiao Tianyang's—at least from what he had observed so far.
Of course, unbeknownst to him, the two were one and the same.
The strength displayed now was but a fraction—one-tenth—of Xiao Tianyang's true power.
Thus, this triple-layered binding became Tang San's exclusive gift for Edward.
And then—his real assault began.
Stones whirled through the air like meteor hammers, their momentum slicing the wind with a shrill whistle.
In the next instant, they crashed down like a spinning windmill of destruction!
The crowd watched with bated breath—some excited, some curious, others anxious.
Tang San had gone all out this time. Could he really break Xiao Tianyang's undefeated legend?
The answer came swiftly.
With a mere flick of his blade, Xiao Tianyang shattered the Blue Silver Grass coiled around him.
Then—he stepped forward, blade held perpendicular to the ground.
"This strike condenses my essence, energy, and spirit." Xiao Tianyang's eyes snapped open.
"It is named—Spring and Autumn."
The blade swept out.
Yet, nothing seemed to happen.
But the spectators fell deathly silent, their throats clamped shut as if gripped by an invisible hand. Their eyes widened in sheer terror.
Though the air appeared undisturbed, an indescribable dread gripped them.
Then—
Click.
A crisp sound rang out.
The remnants of power erupted from the arena's center, sending violent winds and dust surging outward.
Yet, amidst the chaos, a brilliant sword light shot skyward—leaving a stark white scar across the sky.
The sudden arrival of the Royal Knights had already heightened the tension in the hunting grounds.
But with another crisp clang, the swirling dust froze—as if commanded—vanishing in mere seconds.
Only the lingering white mark bore witness to what had just transpired.
"Spring and Autumn…" Tang San murmured, staring blankly at the sky.
A single strand of hair drifted down from his forehead.
"I've lost." Tang San smiled faintly. "But such a magnificent blade has broadened my horizons."
After a pause, he added, "If possible, after the match, I'd like to introduce someone to you. Though he isn't here yet, you should seek him out. The two of you… share common ground."
Xiao Tianyang already knew the answer but asked anyway, "Who?"
Tang San grinned. "Xiao Tianyang—my childhood friend, and he is like a brother to me."
Though the match had ended, the shock lingered in everyone's minds.
That single slash had been beyond imagination.
Could a youth under twenty-five truly wield such power?
Even Tang San's companions were stunned.
Some of the older, seasoned warriors—even Title Douluo—had been shaken.
As Tang San stepped down, Xiao Wu rushed to his side.
"Brother, are you alright?"
The sheer force of that strike had left Dai Mubai and the others dumbfounded.
They had expected defeat—but never this.
Edward's strength was monstrous.
A single slash had dismantled Tang San's entire strategy—even altering the arena itself.
At first, they had worried for Xiao Tianyang's safety—after all, nine massive stones, swung with crushing force, were no joke.
But now, they realized how foolish they'd been.
Scheming against him? Worrying about him?
In the end, they had gained nothing—only revealed one of Tang San's trump cards.
Yet, they felt no regret.
Not in this case, at least.
Tang San shook his head slowly, a wry smile forming.
"Not only am I unharmed—I've gained much from this."
"Gained what?" Ma Hongjun blurted out. "Did he whisper some secret to you?"
"No," Tang San replied. "But that blade carried a profound artistic conception—as if…"
He trailed off, struggling to articulate it.
That strike had seemed to embody the essence of life itself—the weight of history, the valor of humanity.
For the longest time, Tang San and the others had failed to grasp the techniques Xiao Tianyang had taught them.
They had been walking the wrong path all along.
Xiao Tianyang had never corrected them—he had waited for them to realize it themselves.
But now, through that single slash, Tang San saw the truth.
"I can't explain it," he admitted. "But I can show you. The answer will reveal itself when we return."
While they conversed, Salas, seated in the VIP section, could no longer remain still.
That blade had sent a chill down his spine.
A gnawing suspicion gripped him—as if that strike had been meant for him.
Even through the goggles, Xiao Tianyang's piercing gaze had felt like a blade against his throat.
'No… If this continues, the situation will spiral out of control.' Salas clenched his fists.
'He's already aware of the Spirit Hall's hostility toward him. We must act before it's too late.'
With that resolve, he rose to his feet.
…
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