The moment she stepped into the dueling circle, Gu Yue could feel it.
The shift in the air.
The subtle way Qiang Ming's presence pressed into the space between them—not intentionally, but naturally, like a boulder resting at the edge of a cliff.
He stood silently, the Blackstone Abyss Hammer balanced across one shoulder, its violet mist leaking in slow, steady tendrils that curled and vanished into the morning air. Behind him, his singular yellow soul ring pulsed faintly with life. Only one, just like her.
And yet, it felt like the arena tilted in his direction.
One soul ring flared under her feet—clean, bright yellow.
She took in a breath and held it.
Her hair, long and dark, shifted behind her in the light wind, a stark contrast to her otherwise plain appearance. She looked small next to Qiang Ming, simple—an unassuming girl with a calm face, quiet posture, and black eyes that, deep within, shimmered with a flicker of violet.
But beneath her skin, every nerve was alert.
Because that hammer—it wasn't just heavy.
It was old.
BEGIN!
Wu Zhangkong's voice cracked like a whip.
Gu Yue reacted instantly.
A pulse of wind launched her from the ground, her boots leaving behind a burst of scattered dust as she shot sideways, forming a wide arc around Qiang Ming's position. She didn't stop—she traced three lines in the air and sent a razor-thin blade of fire lancing across the distance between them.
Qiang Ming shifted his stance slightly.
The fire blast hit the side of his hammer—not by accident, but by deliberate redirection—and scattered harmlessly.
No offense from him.
Still waiting.
Still watching.
He's baiting me. Trying to see what I can do.
Gu Yue narrowed her eyes.
She swept the staff again—earth erupted beneath his feet, spikes aiming to unbalance him. At the same time, she split her control and launched a spiraling stream of water from the right side, attempting to entangle his forward arm.
Pin the hammer, break his footing.
But Qiang Ming moved like a tectonic plate.
He stomped down—BOOM—and the earth cracked outward instead of upward. His hammer didn't swing, it pushed, knocking the water aside in a dispersed fan of vapor.
Again—no soul skill.
Only muscle.
Only control.
He's so calm, she thought, moving again to reset her angle. Too calm.
As she slid into a new stance, staff glowing faintly with elemental transitions, her mind dipped into memory—not her own, but something deeper. Something ancient.
That hammer.
That shape, that weight, that aura.
It wasn't just powerful.
It was familiar.
I've felt something like it before, she thought. Not in this life—but in echoes.
She launched another volley: a spike of water from above, followed by a lateral gust of wind that kicked up blinding dust. While the debris spiraled, she flared a burst of flame from beneath to cloak her next movement.
She dashed through her own distraction and struck low, aiming for his ankle with a whip of dense rock-bound mud.
And again—
CLANG.
The hammer swept down.
Not fast.
Not wide.
Just... right.
Precise.
It shattered her attack and hit the ground hard enough to send out a shockwave that pushed her back despite her wind support.
She landed in a crouch several meters away.
He still hadn't moved more than a few steps.
And yet—her breathing was heavier than his.
Is this what it's like to fight a mountain?
She stood again, wiping her mouth.
Then smiled.
"Is that it?" she asked.
Qiang Ming's eyes narrowed.
Her voice was still calm, but now it had teeth.
"All that weight, all that cultivation, and you're just going to stand there and play keep-away?"
His brow twitched.
He said nothing.
She smirked.
"I thought you'd be more interesting."
That did it.
Qiang Ming stepped forward—fast, this time—and slammed his hammer into the ground where she stood.
She'd already moved, wind curling beneath her like a springboard.
She jumped, high and light, twisting midair and sending a volley of fire bolts down at his exposed back.
He turned and batted them away with the flat of the hammer, then lunged upward, the weapon roaring in a sweeping arc meant to intercept her in midair.
She pushed off the wind again—barely escaping the swing—and landed with a slide across the ring.
But her smile faltered.
Because Qiang Ming looked… angry.
Not explosively. Not loudly.
But quietly furious.
His jaw was tight. His grip white-knuckled.
And his hammer was brimming with pressure now.
He's getting tired, she realized. And frustrated.
She could see it in the way his muscles moved. In the small shifts of his stance. He was burning through stamina—not recklessly, but faster than she was. His strikes were growing stronger, but also heavier, slower.
Even Wu Zhangkong, standing on the edge of the platform, shifted slightly.
He's not used to opponents like her, the teacher thought. It will take time to mold him into a real Spirit Master.
Gu Yue twirled her staff once and raised her voice again.
"Want to stop playing around and actually try something?"
Qiang Ming didn't answer.
Instead, he exploded into motion.
A forward sprint—faster than she'd seen from him so far.
He lunged, hammer raised, and unleashed an upward swing that tore the stone floor with it.
She launched herself backward with wind.
Too late.
He's using it.
The hammer began to glow—not with light, but with weight. With intent.
With Soul Power.
Qiang Ming's first ring ignited—yellow light spiraling around the hammer's head—and Gu Yue felt it in her bones.
SoulQuake Blow.
No. I can't dodge that.
She twisted her body, midair, prepared to deflect—anything—but the boy spun, and with a shout, hurled the Blackstone Abyss Hammer at her.
Like a cannonball, it flew.
The mist behind it spiraled like a vortex, the violet energy crackling around its edge. It howled through the air, weightless in its velocity, yet impossibly heavy.
Gu Yue's breath caught.
I can't dodge it.
Even with wind. Even with everything.
She raised her staff instinctively, but knew it wouldn't be enough.
The hammer raced toward her—
—and struck something else.
A blade.
Cold.
Blue.
Glowing with icy light.
It clashed midair with the Blackstone Abyss Hammer in a shockwave that rang like thunder.
The weapons held—struggled—as if locked in contest between immovable and unstoppable.
For one long second, the hammer stayed in the air.
Then, slowly, its glow faded.
The Icy Sword flickered out.
The hammer fell—
—and disappeared, reappearing instantly in Qiang Ming's hand.
Wu Zhangkong stepped forward, voice raised like a verdict.
"Winner: Qiang Ming."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Gu Yue stood where she had been, heart hammering in her chest, her staff lowered.
Her gaze moved across the arena.
To Qiang Ming.
He looked winded now. Just slightly.
His face was blank—but she saw the tension in his shoulders.
She said nothing.
But her black eyes, with that faint flash of violet deep within, narrowed faintly.
That hammer…
It's more than just a weapon.
It's a legacy.
And for the first time since arriving at East Sea Academy—
She felt a twinge of unease.