The shockwave from their clash rippled outward, ripping shallow trenches through the ground. Both fighters were already gone before the dust could settle, vanishing in blurs of red light.
Steel sang in the air, clang, clang, clang — too fast for the eye to follow.
The fake Yu Xuan’s movements grew sharper, his blade carving arcs that warped the air itself. Yu Xuan barely parried, each block rattling his bones.
A single step from the fake cracked the ground like shattered glass.
He lunged forward, his sword cleaving down with enough force to split a boulder. Yu Xuan met it head on, the impact detonating in a shockwave that sent shattered stone flying like shrapnel.
Before the debris could fall, the fake flicked his blade, sending dozens of sword beams whipping through the air like hunting serpents.
Yu Xuan’s eyes glowed golden faintly [Immortal’s Gaze] tracking each deadly arc. He had discovered various uses of [Immortal’s Gaze] instead of just intimidating the opponent. One included heighted visual perception.
He twisted, sidestepped, cut through three, ducked under another, but the last one grazed his shoulder, leaving a smoking cut in his robe.
"You’re slower than me," the fake said calmly, stepping through the air as though it were solid ground.
Yu Xuan didn’t answer, instead he slammed his palm to the ground, unleashing a telekinetic pulse that hurled up chunks of stone. With a flick of his fingers, they shot forward like bullets.
The fake’s sword blurred — every stone split cleanly in midair, fragments scattering harmlessly.
Yu Xuan smirked. That had been the distraction. He closed the gap in a single step, blade wreathed in crimson, swinging upward with a strike that carried every ounce of his strength.
The fake caught it with his sword, but his expression shifted, just slightly, as their auras collided in a storm of energy that lit the surroundings in blood-red light.
He saw it clearly now: Yu Xuan was adapting. Every movement, every feint, every breath... he was learning his patterns. And the more Yu Xuan adapted, the more comfortable he became facing him.
"What a monster," the fake muttered, voice flat, eyes still cold. But he too was adapting, not by growing stronger, but by sharpening his ability to counter Yu Xuan specifically.
And Yu Xuan noticed it.
His fake was a little faster. A little stronger. A little sharper in every exchange.
His sword swings carried more weight, his footwork covered ground with impossible precision, and his reactions seemed to come a fraction before Yu Xuan even moved.
Yu Xuan couldn’t help but wonder, what kind of absurd species could produce a creature ?
Still, there was no fear in him. His confidence in himself burned brighter than any doubt. But as his eyes locked with his perfect mirror, he knew one thing for certain...
This was going to be a long fight.
The battlefield was unrecognizable — gouged earth, shattered stone, and the faint shimmer of lingering energy still crackling in the air. Amid the wreckage, two figures stood, breathing hard but steady.
On one side was Yu Xuan, his right arm gone at the shoulder, a sword buried deep in his right abdomen. His once pristine robes were now nothing but tattered cloth soaked in a mix of his own blood and his opponent’s.
Opposite him stood the other Yu Xuan, the one with those cold, indifferent eyes. Both his wrists were severed, and a jagged stone spike was lodged in his left thigh. Blood matted his hair and streaked his face.
They were both only in the Qi Condensation Realm, yet they had fought for five hours straight. That fact alone spoke volumes.
"I told you," the fake said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "you can drop the act. No Qi Condensation fight lasts this long."
Yu Xuan exhaled slowly. He couldn’t deny it — this had been a brutal battle.
His strange, unnamed cultivation technique had kept his body in fighting condition far longer than it should have, though the mental fatigue had been building with every exchange. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦•𝘯𝘦𝘵
Now, even with his mind weary, he found himself strangely capable of bearing it. He knew the cause of it, his trait [Adaptive Mind] was like an app doing work in background. So even if he didn’t praise this trait, like a loyal worker, it worked.
To take his opponent’s wrist and cripple his leg, Yu Xuan had paid with his arm. To bait him into a decisive strike, he had taken that sword to the gut, but not before severing the other wrist with a final, desperate kick.
Pain was inevitable but victory was worth it.
It had been result of perfect timing — even using the second move of the [Magic Swordsmanship of the Avalon Imperial Family]. His opponent had mirrored it, but the damage was done.
"Our fight is nearly over," Yu Xuan said quietly. This duel had taught him much about his strength... but the most important lesson was something deeper.
The greatest enemy had not been power, speed, or technique.
It all came down to choice, the choice of his stronger self.
The opponent before him was not some stranger; he was Yu Xuan’s stronger version and being strong he faced choices, that was the problem, he didn’t properly utilize his choice. He was beginning to understand the purpose of Tower of Trials.
Now, with only one hand left, Yu Xuan understood that victory was inevitable. He still had a weapon. His opponent did not.
The fake Yu Xuan understood it as well, yet there was no fear in his eyes. Was death truly something to dread? He was still based on Yu Xuan. And his thought reflected Yu Xuan’s choices.
Yu Xuan’s aura flared, blood red light coating the length of his sword. In answer, the other Yu Xuan raised his severed arms — and that same red aura erupted from his wrists, shaping itself into twin, razor edged blades of pure intent.
The choice had been made. There was no turning back.