The duel ring was still humming from the previous fight when a second challenger stepped forward—unannounced, uninvited, and, by the look of it, unbothered by protocol.
He wore snow-white robes embroidered with silver frost patterns. Each fold moved like ice flowing over stone, not even stained by dust. His boots glowed faintly. His face? Smooth, noble, and disgustingly symmetrical. His long silver hair was bound in a precise warrior's knot, a jade clasp locking it like a scholar's seal. His sword? Polished, radiant, still sheathed—but it sang without being drawn.
"Bai Yu," someone whispered. "That's Bai Yu, head disciple of Verdant Ice Pavilion!"
Disciples in red murmured in awe. Even a few Elders stood straighter.
Jian Long blinked from the edge of the platform, where he was casually chewing on a lotus seed bun. "Wow," he said between bites, "you must moisturize."
Bai Yu's eyes narrowed. "You are Jian Long?"
"No," Jian Long replied, "but I hear he's extremely handsome, dangerously clever, and wanted in three provinces for assaulting common sense."
A hush fell over the crowd.
Bai Yu stepped into the ring. His boots made no sound. The platform seemed to still itself for him.
"I came to test your Dao," Bai Yu said calmly.
Jian Long tossed the empty bun wrapper aside. "That's funny. I came to test your patience."
[System Notification: New Opponent Detected.
Estimated Combat Power: High.
Estimated Humor Tolerance: Low.
Chance of Hair Gel Usage: 87%]
Jian Long walked to the center, rusted sword slung lazily across his back. His robes were still torn from the last fight, shoulder exposed, a light scratch visible. His expression was unreadable—but his grin was growing.
"Alright, Snow Angel," he said, drawing the blade. "Let's dance."
The first clash echoed like lightning on frozen hills.
Bai Yu's sword—drawn with barely a whisper—glimmered like moonlight on steel. His first strike was a straight thrust, clean and lethal. Jian Long parried with his rusted blade, the sound less a clash and more a wailing shriek.
Kssssssskkreechhh!
A sound like a metal coffin being pried open by regret.
The audience winced.
[System Note: Your sword is screaming. Not metaphorically.]
Bai Yu's second strike was faster, sharper, colder. A frost arc sliced through air, missing Jian Long's chest by inches. Jian rolled under the third swing, kicked upward, and used the hilt of his blade to bump Bai Yu's knee.
"A little stiff there, Ice Boy. You bend your legs, or is that against your sword etiquette code?"
Bai Yu said nothing. His face remained impassive—but his blade began to glow with concentrated qi.
He was activating a technique.
Snow spiraled from nowhere. The air temperature dropped. Even the platform cracked under frost.
"He's using the Glacial Vein Flow!" someone cried.
Jian Long licked his lips. "Oooh, big name. Sounds like a rejected shampoo brand."
[System Analysis: Incoming Technique – Glacial Vein Flow
Advice: Do not let it touch your skin. Or bones. Or soul.]
The frost aura burst forth like a tidal wave. Bai Yu's sword blurred.
Jian Long moved.
No elegant forms. No heavenly footwork.
Just raw instinct and shameless momentum.
He dodged left, let the ice carve into his sleeve. Then he spun low, blade dragging sparks. His rusted sword shrieked again—louder this time, almost joyful.
Then it pulsed.
For the first time, Jian Long felt it—the sword responded.
A sharp twist. A violent clang.
Bai Yu staggered.
Blood trailed from his cheek. His expression finally cracked. Shock. Confusion. Rage.
"You... how—?"
Jian Long stepped in, close, too close for sword forms.
"I told you," he whispered, eyes gleaming. "My Dao doesn't shine. It stains."
He slammed the hilt of his rusted sword into Bai Yu's ribs. The impact rang like a funeral bell. The frost shattered around them.
Bai Yu crumpled to his knees.
Silence. Then chaos.
Some disciples shouted. Others screamed. A few started laughing in disbelief.
Red-uniformed disciples near the edges began a chant:
"Shameless! Shameless!"
Jian Long stepped back, sword slung over one shoulder, breathing heavy but grinning like a thief who'd robbed a god.
[System Notification:
Technique Unlocked – Shameless Sword Style Lv. 2
New Passive: Enemies struck have a 20% chance to question their life choices.]
He turned toward the elders.
"Next time," he said, voice echoing, "send someone who isn't afraid to bleed."