With Eagle Flight already active, Ying Lizhua was a whirlwind of crimson energy, his duration synced perfectly with the final countdown of the exam. His Scarlet Wind Steel Eagle bloodline was an engine of pure destruction, a high-tier offensive powerhouse that left common lineages in the dust.
To push his lethality to the breaking point, Lizhua had deliberately sliced into his own flesh. Having lost 25% of his blood, his Blood Steel ability was screaming at full tilt, boosting his attack power to terrifying heights.
Combined with Eagle Flight, his strikes finally began to bite through the Three Talons clone's hardened hide. As an Eight Fangs Fighter, Lizhua suffered the least from the Suppressive Principle, allowing his damage to land with a weight the others couldn't hope to match.
With the clone immobilized by the golden chains, Lizhua abandoned defense and attacked without pause. He committed himself fully to each swing, his sword cutting deep into the restrained clone.
Within the ten seconds provided by Wei Ci's four-stage chain-cast of Gold Lock, Lizhua's fury significantly dimmed the clone's aura.
The radiant energy surrounding the clone flickered and faded, showing it had lost more than a fifth of its total power. It was a staggering feat; in comparison, He Chen's entire fifty-man army had barely managed to scratch a tenth of that aura with their final combined strike.
Watching the carnage, Feng Luotian clicked his tongue, his purple eyes wide with genuine awe. "No wonder he was so confident in taking down a One Talon clone alone. His damage output is insane!"
The rest of the party stood in stunned silence. They watched as Lizhua's sword cut deeper and deeper, his fully buffed state turning him into a force of nature that seemed capable of ending the fight then and there.
As the fourth Gold Lock began to crack and dissolve, Wei Ci's voice shouted through the link, "That's the last one! You'll have to survive for two minutes before I can cage it again. Good luck!"
Without a moment's delay, Wei Ci and his three clones vanished into the ruins. His retreat was smart—his physical durability was fragile, weaker than even a common Three Fangs Fighter. A single glancing blow from the clone would have erased him from the exam.
The golden chains shattered. Free at last, the clone's head snapped toward Lizhua. With blinding speed, its glowing hand sliced downward in a brutal, vertical strike.
Luotian's eyes flared with a deep blue light as his Momentum Eyes read the trajectory of the energy. He barked into the mental link, "Lizhua, move back two steps and swing your sword to the—"
"Shut up! I don't need your help!" Lizhua roared, cutting him off. Instead of retreating, he planted his feet and swung his sword upward to meet the clone's strike head-on.
Fueled by Blood Steel and the rush of his successful assault, Lizhua truly believed he could match the clone. In his mind, his offensive power was enough to at least hold the line.
He was wrong.
When the two forces collided, the air screamed. Lizhua wasn't just stopped; he was launched like a cannonball. He was sent flying across the plateau, tumbling through the dirt until he vanished into a thick cloud of dust and sand.
Sun Wuji, never one to miss a chance for a jab, leaned on his stone knuckles and asked, "Is he dead?"
Through the party link, Wuji could tell that Lizhua was alive, if battered. He couldn't resist the jab: Lizhua had ignored their commander's instructions to satisfy his own ego.
"Did he skip the day Teacher Shu explained the Oppressive Principle?" Wuji added with a smirk.
Luotian let out a cheerful laugh, the tension of the moment briefly breaking. "Lizhua was there, and he knows it well. He was just a little too confident in his own strength."
"A little?" Mei Yue'er said, her voice sharp and cold. "The word 'stupid' doesn't even begin to cover it."
"You bastards!!"
Lizhua's enraged voice erupted from the settling dust. He swiped his hand through the air, clearing the cloud to reveal his bloodied face. Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were wild with fury. It wasn't clear if he was cursing his teammates for their insults or the clone for humbling him, but his frustration was thick enough to choke on.
The Oppressive Principle was a far more brutal mechanic than its counterpart, the Suppressive Principle. While the latter merely reduced the impact of a weaker cultivator's strike against a stronger defense, the former governed the direct collision of two opposing forces. It acted as a heavy weight on the scales, crushing the attack power of the lower-level combatant before the two strikes even touched.
In Ying Lizhua's situation, the math was a death sentence. His cultivation was five levels below the Three Talons clone. For his blade to even hold its ground, his raw output would have needed to be at least five times stronger than the monster's—a feat that was physically impossible for almost any warrior at the Fang Fighter level.
This law of the world was drilled into young children during their earliest years of preschool. The lesson was simple and absolute: if a stronger opponent attacks, you dodge. Attempting to meet that force head-on was not bravery; it was a recipe for a crushed body.
Feng Luotian's group understood this fundamental truth all too well, which was why they had been so quick to sting Lizhua with their criticism. However, there was one legendary exception to this rule—the parry.
Unlike a direct clash, a parry did not try to stop the force; it sought to redirect it. By using a weapon of similar quality to slide against the enemy's strike, a warrior could send that overwhelming power into the empty air. Luotian had managed to pull this off during his desperate struggle against Jiu Hao, the leader of the Vulture Bandit Troupe, but the requirements were staggering. The window for success was a sliver of time, measured in mere fractions of a second.
To execute a parry, one or two of these three elements had to be met:
1. A mind as sharp as a diamond to handle the split-second timing.
2. Extensive battle experience to recognize an attack as it began.
3. A specialized ability like Momentum Eyes to track the trajectory of the attack.
This was why teachers across the continent never recommended the technique to students. It was considered impossible for anyone below the Wing Realm to master. For Lizhua, trying to overpower the clone's momentum instead of dodging was more than just a mistake—it was a disastrous display of arrogance.
* * *
On the stage outside the exam site, Heron Lord He An watched with a detached expression. His voice was calm as he addressed Ying Tianzheng. "That was even more laughable than my son's attempt, don't you agree, Eagle Lord?"
Despite the calm delivery, the words were as sharp as a spear tip. It was a calculated strike; He An had taken the very insult Ying Tianzheng had thrown at him earlier, polished it into a weapon, and jabbed it back.
"YOU!!"
Eagle Lord Ying Tianzheng's face flushed a violent shade of red. He surged to his feet, the chair clattering behind him as he pointed a trembling finger at the Heron Lord. His rage was a boiling sea, and for a moment, the air around him hummed with the threat of a high-level cultivation eruption.
But before the storm could break, a cold, authoritative voice cut through the tension. "If you want to fight, do it elsewhere."
The command came from Mei Hengkong. The Supreme Elder kept his eyes on the battle unfolding on the screens, making no effort to turn toward the commotion. He spoke quietly, but his authority was enough to silence the argument.
"!!"
The Eagle Lord froze, his hand still mid-air, his face twitching with the effort of swallowing his fury. After a long, suffocating pause, he begrudgingly sat back down. He continued to watch the exam, though he couldn't stop the venomous muttering under his breath.
The rest of the observers on the stage let out a collective, silent sigh of relief. A clash between two of the Four Lords would have been nothing short of catastrophic, potentially shaking the very foundations of the city. With Mei Hengkong's quiet intervention, the crisis was averted, and the focus shifted back to the desperate struggle on the northern plateau.
* * *
The clone, having blasted Ying Lizhua away like a scrap of paper, turned sharply toward the closest target: Feng Luotian. Without a moment of hesitation, it lunged forward, its hands glowing with a light that promised a quick end.
"Wuji, Lingxi—attack the moment I give the signal. Yue'er, prepare your skill and stay ready to unleash it the second Brother Wei's Gold Lock is live. Go!" Luotian commanded through the mental link, his thoughts sharp and cold.
Under Luotian's guidance, the party coordinated their movements and pressed the clone with a rapid series of attacks.
With Momentum Eyes glowing blue, Luotian tracked the clone's movements and the trajectories of its strikes. He gave his teammates precise instructions, guiding them into openings and clear of the counterattacks that followed.
Whenever the clone tried to retaliate, Luotian's voice would ring in their minds, telling them exactly how to dodge and capitalize on the opening. In those rare, heart-stopping moments where a dodge was impossible, Luotian would flick his wrist, sending a blast of Evil Cyclone to intercept the strike, the dark winds absorbing the impact and saving his teammates from a crushing blow.
The battle began to flow with a rhythmic ease that felt almost surreal. The key difference was the nature of their foe; it was a mindless clone, bound to preprogrammed patterns. It lacked the improvisation and desperate adaptability of a living cultivator.
For a man with Luotian's vast reservoir of battle experience, a few exchanges were all he needed to map out its style and find the cracks in its armor. Soon, the team adapted so well that the life-or-death struggle began to feel like a sparring session against a training dummy.
Meanwhile, Ying Lizhua had dragged himself from the dirt. He watched the scene from the edge of the crater, his face darkening with a bitter heat. Although his earlier damage output had been the highest, seeing the others fight so seamlessly—without taking a single scratch—stung his pride more than the clone's punch ever could. His ego wouldn't allow anyone to outshine him. Gripping his sword until his knuckles turned white, he prepared to charge back in.
Before he could take a single step, Luotian's calm voice vibrated in his mind. "Lizhua, stand by. Wait for Yue'er to finish her skill, then you can engage. With this sequence, we are guaranteed to take it down. We can't afford to lose an asset with your damage output."
"So, you're saying I can't handle myself in a fight?" Lizhua retorted, his brow furrowing in a deep scowl.
Luotian let out a light, mental chuckle. "I'm not saying that. But I believe in certainty, not possibility. If there is even a slim chance you could be sent out of this exam, I won't allow you to take the risk."
"Hmph!" Lizhua harrumphed in dissatisfaction, but his body stayed still. He knew that if Luotian refused to coordinate with him, any reckless move would just lead to another humiliation. Rather than fighting as a lone wolf, he reluctantly chose to wait for the opening Luotian promised.
"Gold Lock is up!" Wei Ci announced, his voice cheerful through the link.
"Retreat!" Luotian commanded.
Luotian, Wuji, and Lingxi disengaged instantly, blurring backward. The clone attempted to pursue, its feet tearing up the ground, but it managed only two steps before Wei Ci's golden chains erupted from the earth, binding it in a radiant cage once more.
"Yue'er, now!"
From a distance, the scale of Mei Yue'er's preparation finally became clear. Her Illusion Clones had spread through the ruins like a ghostly army, surrounding the immobilized monster in a perfect, fatal circle. At Luotian's signal, she and a thousand shimmering copies of herself leaped into the air.
"Aurora Thousand Illusion Strike!"
Yue'er's voice echoed across the plateau as the sky seemed to fill with falling stars. A thousand clones descended in a synchronized barrage, their blades glowing with the cold light of the dawn. Each strike landed with perfect timing, the combined force draining the clone's dominant aura until it flickered like a dying candle.
The entire battlefield shimmered with aurora light as the clone was hammered by the relentless weight of the ultimate skill.
"Yue'er, retreat. Lizhua, would you please?" Luotian called out, finally signaling the release of his "caged beast."
"Hmph! I don't need a reminder from you!" Lizhua snorted, his eyes burning with a renewed, hungry vigor as he charged toward the restrained enemy.