The morning mist hung low over the Thunder-Splitting Courtyard. Disciples gathered on every balcony, rock, and railing they could find. Even outer sect servants peeked from behind trees and pillars.
Today, the fool was fighting.
The man they mocked a few weeks ago was about to face a direct disciple from the Snow Jade Pavilion.
And Jiang Yunfan?
He stood on the stage with his hands folded behind his back.
He wasn't smiling.
His robes were clean, tight at the sleeves. His zither was strapped across his back like a coffin, and his sword rested at his left hip, its chipped blade humming with faint static.
The air around him buzzed not with tension, but with restraint.
Across from him stood Lin Renshu, third-ranked disciple of the Snow Jade Pavilion's Outer Court. Mid Pulse Awakening. Refined. Arrogant.
His robes were flawless. His eyes bored.
He fanned himself lazily. "You're late."
Yunfan didn't answer.
He stepped forward.
One pace.
Two.
He stopped exactly ten steps away.
His head tilted.
Then silence.
Lin Renshu lowered his fan slightly. "...Are you mute now, servant?"
Still, Yunfan said nothing.
His eyes flicked once to the elder presiding over the match.
A hand rose.
And fell.
"Begin!"
Lin Renshu struck first.
Flick of the fan dozens of spiritual lotus petals burst forward, glowing with freezing Qi.The temperature dropped ten degrees.Snow-like particles danced between the petals, each one a condensed blade.
The pavilion disciples cheered.
Mu Qingxue sipped from a teacup and said nothing.
Yunfan moved.
Fast.
Not flashy precise.
One hand reached over his shoulder and pulled the zither around in a smooth arc, planting it on the stone with a dull thunk.
He plucked one note.
TING.
The petals froze midair literally. Ice crusted around them as if time had stilled.
He plucked again.
TIIIING.
The frozen petals cracked. Crumbled.
A third note.
TUNG.
All of them shattered in a single pulse of vibrating Sword Qi.
Gasps echoed.
Yunfan didn't flinch.
Lin Renshu staggered back, caught off guard. "You..."
Before he could finish, Yunfan vanished.
Step of Thunder.
He reappeared behind Renshu, sword drawn in a silent arc.
"Heavenlaugh Sword Art Second Movement: Silence Before the Storm."
The blade fell like a whisper of doom.
Renshu spun, desperately forming an ice shield.
Too slow.
The sword shattered it and sliced through his shoulder guard, sending the boy flying across the arena.
Still no expression from Yunfan.
Still no laughter.
He walked forward, zither string humming with lightning.
Lin Renshu growled, blood at the corner of his lips. "I'm not done!"
He slammed both palms on the stone and activated his final art: a field of lotus petals erupted around him, forming a full domain. Each petal sharpened into a blade, spinning in sync.
A proper finishing move.
A storm of deadly ice Qi.
Yunfan… closed his eyes.
And sat down.
On the stage.
In the middle of a fight.
He placed his sword across his knees and his zither in front of him.
The wind howled.
Petals screamed toward him like blades.
Then
"Zither Art: Thunder-Cut Harmony."
He struck all seven strings at once.
The sound didn't sing. It screamed.
Not music command.
A wave of invisible force rippled outward. Each note rode a glyph-enhanced vibration.Petals stopped.
Then exploded.
The domain cracked and collapsed in an instant.
Renshu fell to one knee, his spiritual core fraying from the backlash.
Yunfan stood, calm.
Walked forward again.
Lifted his sword.
And brought it down in a clean arc
not on Renshu, but on the ground beside him.
Stone shattered. Wind screamed.
The message was clear:
"I could've ended you."
Only then did Yunfan raise his eyes.
Only then did he smile.
Only then did he laugh.
A short, echoing chuckle that rolled through the courtyard like distant thunder.
"Your technique is elegant," he said softly, "but elegance without pressure… breaks."
He turned.
Walked off the stage.
Mu Qingxue didn't smile.
But she didn't look away either.
Far away, in the crumbling bones of a forbidden ruin, a jade mask awakened.
A figure stepped through the mist, holding a scroll with Yunfan's name etched in golden ink.
"Found him," it whispered. "The one with the storm soul."