SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

“Third Match: Zi Han, the Twin Blade Disciple of the Celestial Edge Sect… versus Lady Zu of the Whispering Wind Temple!”

Zi Han stepped into the ring first, his silver twin blades humming softly at his back. His long hair was tied behind his head, his white robes streaked with the sigil of twin crescent moons—his blades, legendary for their speed and precision. His steps were confident but calm, like a swordsman who had tasted battle a thousand times.

Opposite him, descending gently from the sky, Lady Zu landed like a falling petal—barely disturbing the platform. She was clad in pale green robes that billowed even when there was no wind, her long fan folded in one hand. A sapphire pendant glowed at her neck, channeling the element of wind through her entire body. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and danger.

The bell chimed.

A gust of wind swept the arena.

And then—

“Begin!”

FLASH!

Zi Han vanished, reappearing with a blur of silver as both blades whirled toward Lady Zu. The crowd gasped.

“His sword draw! It’s so fast!”

“Twin Moon Style—Opening Cut!”

But just as his blades slashed in, Lady Zu flicked her fan outward.

“Floating Cloud Veil!”

A sudden swirl of condensed wind exploded from her fan, twisting the air into illusions. Zi Han’s blades passed through nothing—only air, shimmering and shifting.

“She’s not there!” he growled.

He leapt back instinctively.

From above—

“Whispering Descent!”

Lady Zu descended upside-down in a spiraling dive, her fan gliding behind her like a wing. With a powerful sweep, she unleashed a hurricane arc of condensed wind blades.

Zi Han spun his blades defensively.

CLANG! CLANG! WHOOSH!

Steel collided with slicing wind. The entire arena platform cracked slightly at the edges. The shockwave threw spectators’ hair and robes into disarray.

From the high seats, Elder Mo of the Wind Temple chuckled.

“Zu’er is toying with him.”

But Elder Fai of the Celestial Edge Sect smirked. “Not for long.”

Back in the ring, Zi Han’s stance changed.

He closed his eyes.

The wind around him screamed, trying to pull at his balance, but his blades rose gently like reeds in a pond.

“Second Form – Mirror Moon Reflection!”

A pulse of blade energy shimmered across the stage. With a single step, he moved—no, slid—through the gale, ignoring its resistance. He passed through the storm like a needle through silk.

Lady Zu’s eyes widened. “He’s adapted already?”

Zi Han struck.

TWIN STREAK!

Both blades sliced toward her from opposite angles, like mirrored arcs of light. Lady Zu folded her fan and retreated into the air with a spin—

But not fast enough.

A lock of her hair floated down, cleanly cut.

The crowd roared.

Zi Han didn’t smile. “You’re light as mist, Lady Zu. But the moon always pierces clouds.”

Lady Zu landed again, lips curled. “Then let’s see how you handle the eye of the storm.”

She slammed her fan into the ground.

“WIND SNAKE BIND!”

A massive whirl of spiraling air burst from the fan’s edge. From within the vortex, green-blue serpentine coils formed—living wind snakes that hissed and flew toward Zi Han like summoned spirits.

“Binding Formation—Spiral Constriction!”

The snakes weren’t just chasing—they were dancing in a complex arc, creating a binding web midair.

Zi Han exhaled deeply, focusing his spirit.

“Moonlight Pierces Sky.”

In a split-second, his blades disappeared—only afterimages remained, dancing chaotically around him. He didn’t dodge.

He walked into the binding spiral.

Gasps echoed.

“He’s mad! The Wind Snake Bind is a trap spell—!”

But the next moment, the snakes coiled in… and suddenly—

Shatter!

The blades moved too quickly—each snake sliced apart in perfect geometric patterns. As the spell collapsed, the wind fell silent.

Lady Zu’s fan trembled.

Zi Han now stood before her, his blade touching the edge of her fan, unmoving.

“One more move,” Lady Zu whispered.

Zi Han raised a brow.

Then she smiled. “Watch carefully.”

She leapt high into the air—so high, she was just a dot against the sun.

Then—

“Whispering Sky Collapse—Wind Lotus Bloom!!”

She spun downward, her entire body radiating ethereal energy. From her fan exploded a massive, multi-layered wind lotus, its petals like blades, each layer turning against the other, forming a hurricane of slashes.

Zi Han narrowed his eyes.

He sheathed both blades.

Closed his stance.

And then—

“Last Form – Twin Moon Severance.”

He drew both blades at once.

The movement was invisible.

Not even the elders saw the cut.

SLASH!

The wind lotus froze.

Then crumbled—each petal sliced into two perfect halves.

Lady Zu landed softly, gasping, her fan snapped in two.

A beat passed.

She knelt and smiled. “I yield.”

Thunderous cheers shook the arena.

“Zi Han wins!”

“A perfect demonstration of blade mastery!”

“Even wind couldn’t cage him!”

In the top rows, a quiet Kent munched his second bun and leaned over to the same disciple. “That was pretty. But not a better move to win in style.”

The disciple looked stunned. “Stop it!… that technique… I’ve only read about it in sword manuals. I didn’t think it was real.”

Kent yawned. “It is. But his stance was a little slow. Should work on transitioning faster after slashes. If that lady changed her position during last attack, she can easily beat this fellow.”

“You are talking too much details. Can you actually do any better?” the disciple asked with wide eyes. Few more disciples turned around to see what Kent would reply.

Kent smiled mysteriously and took a bite of his new spring roll.

“Krrrr…”

But it started with that crunch.

A loud, unapologetic crunch that echoed through the quieting rows of the arena. Zi Han had just left the stage to roaring applause, and while most disciples were either clapping or shouting praises, one man in the last row was calmly chewing on a freshly fried spring roll, his fingers glistening with oil, his eyes half-lidded as if he were in a teahouse and not a combat arena.

“Did you see how she overused the wind binding spell?” he muttered lazily, speaking to no one and everyone. “Overcompensation. Wind is freedom, not a net. And that sword guy—his transitions were slower than a donkey learning to dance. Hmph.”

The nearby disciples twitched.

“What did he say?”

“Who does this guy think he is?”

“Bro, he’s talking about Zi Han. The Sword Crescent Prodigy!”

“I don’t care if he’s the Moonlight Librarian. That dude’s munching snacks and roasting prime disciples like he’s reading a menu!”

Soon, the murmurs turned to mild roars. A small crowd of indignant disciples gathered around Kent.

Kent remained seated—one leg crossed over the other, hair fluttering lazily in the arena wind, his robes slightly wrinkled from days of water soaking, and another spring roll already halfway to his mouth.

“You got a problem with our sect’s top disciples, outsider?” one barked.

“Yeah!” said another, drawing a short saber. “If you’re such a genius, go fight! Let’s see you match their footwork!”

Kent blinked slowly, looked around at the circle of angry faces, then let out a tired sigh. “You people are too tense. Haven’t you ever watched fights and commented before? It’s called analysis. Helps the digestion.”

“Fight us!”

“Step in the ring if you-dare!”

One disciple even lit his own-sword on fire with a dramatic shout, “Fiery Crescent Slash!”

The flame missed by a mile and hit the popcorn of an innocent bystander three rows ahead. The roasted kernels exploded into the air with a sad puff.

Before chaos could fully erupt—

“STOP THIS NONSENSE AT ONCE!”

The voice came like thunder rolling across heaven.

Every disciple froze.

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