After Yu Xuan and Ming Tianmei’s intense match, a short break was announced — mostly for Ming Tianmei to recover.
But in truth, everyone needed it. Hearts were racing and gamblers were checking their pockets for losses.
Meanwhile, up in the pavilion reserved for elders, the true battle began — of pride.
While most Core Elders sat with perfect composure, a few familiar faces couldn’t help themselves.
Yu Baishi, the Outer Hall Master, leaned back with the ease of a man who had already mentally drafted an insult. He stroked his long beard, a self-satisfied grin tugging at his lips.
"So..." he began, loud enough for the surrounding elders to hear. "Looks like the humble disciples from my Outer Hall are shining quite brightly today, don’t you think?"
His pointed glance landed squarely on Inner Hall Master Yu Fanren and Core Elder Mo Jian.
The trio had once been close friends in their youth, even rivals.
They had turned down early offers to become Core Elders.
Baishi and Fanren chose leadership roles within the halls, while Mo Jian preferred the more mysterious prestige of the Core Elder position.
"And to think..." Baishi added, feigning innocence, "Lin Fan even managed to beat Mo Lin. What an unexpected outcome!"
Yu Fanren and Mo Jian’s eyebrows twitched in sync.
Fanren cleared his throat with practiced dignity. "While I concede the Outer Hall had strong showings, Mo Lin simply had an unlucky match."
"Mmm," Baishi hummed, nodding dramatically.
Then he turned with a gleam in his eye. "And you, Elder Jian? Surely you have something to say?"
Mo Jian’s glare could have burned holes into the pavilion wall.
If looks could kill, Yu Baishi would have spontaneously combusted — possibly gone bald.
After a long, simmering pause, Mo Jian replied through gritted teeth, "They were... unprepared."
"Of course, of course," Baishi said, barely hiding his amusement. "Happens to the best of us."
He turned back toward the stage, smug as a cat that stole fish but a random dog nearby was blamed.
He knew perfectly well the only reason their disciples were even invited to this tournament was to nudge the Patriarch into letting Yu Xuan participate.
Even if Yu Xuan hadn’t agreed, they would have thrown their poor entry disciples into the meat grinder anyway.
Petty schemes, beautiful outcomes.
On the arena platform, Lu the ever-enthusiastic announcer reappeared with a flourish.
Golden light pulsed beneath his feet, formations shimmering to life. From the sky, illusory fireworks burst overhead — a visual treat courtesy of a projection talisman.
For a moment, silence held.
Then the crowd exploded into cheers.
"Now we move to the grand finale of the Yu Clan’s Young Generation Tournament!"
Lu’s voice boomed across the mountain as spiritual amplifiers carried his words.
"Only two remain — and both from the Outer Hall!"
He spun theatrically. "On one side, we have Lin Fan! The unexpected dark horse! The youth who has surpassed every expectation!"
The Outer Hall disciples erupted.
"And on the other side — the enigmatic sword fairy herself! The girl of silver moonlight, undefeated in poise and power — Ming Tianmei!"
The cheers that followed could have toppled weaker formations.
In the Outer Hall sector, disciples wept, embraced, and began composing songs on the spot.
Senior disciples chanted slogans. One even tried to carve "MING 4EVER" onto his sword.
The Inner Hall remained... solemn.
One unfortunate disciple passing the outer hall, got mocked so hard he summoned backup, and a brief fight broke out.
Bets were flying left and right.
Even Lu secretly smiled.
His private bets? Looking VERY profitable.
Back on the stage, the finalists stepped forward.
Ming Tianmei walked with unhurried grace, her expression composed, black robes fluttering as if responding to applause.
Lin Fan followed with silent determination, blade at his side, his focus unwavering.
Lu looked between them and declared, "Finalists — are you ready?"
"Then... LET THE FINAL MATCH BEGIN!"
The platform ignited with light.
The atmosphere changed.
Lin Fan charged first, sword flashing.
Ming Tianmei stood still — unmoved.
His blade came down — she stepped aside.
Fluid, precise, graceful.
She didn’t even counter.
He tried again — lower this time. A sweep.
She bent, tapped his blade with her own, just enough to throw off his rhythm.
Still, she did not attack.
Lin Fan’s brows furrowed. He adjusted.
Slashes, thrusts, feints.
For a brief moment, it looked like an even match.
But then... fatigue began to creep in.
Lin Fan’s footwork grew less precise. His stance opened up more. Breathing heavy.
She hadn’t even drawn on her Sword Intent.
Every step she took was control.
Every motion a lesson, a lesson from her experience.
She let him attack — and danced just outside danger each time, replying with short, elegant flicks of her sword that stung but didn’t injure.
A scratch across his forearm.
A flick that knocked his wrist sideways.
A thousand little reminders that this wasn’t a contest of strength anymore.
It was a lesson in humility.
And still, he fought.
He roared and threw everything into one final strike — a powerful vertical slash, filled with his remaining strength.
But Ming Tianmei stepped in.
With one motion, she knocked the blade from his hands.
Her own sword hovered just beneath his chin.
The platform was silent.
"...I admit defeat," he said with a smile.
Lu reappeared immediately, his voice ringing with finality.
"THE WINNER OF THE TOURNAMENT — MING TIANMEI!"
Ming Tianmei sheathed her sword.
"You fought well," she said.
Lin Fan smiled and bowed. "Thank you for going easy on me."
He knew it — everyone knew it.
Had she used her Sword Intent, the match would have ended in ten seconds.
Still, he didn’t feel bitter.
Instead, he felt inspired.
’Stronger... I have to get stronger.’
The two walked off the platform.
And behind them, Lu grinned ear to ear.
His winnings? That’s classified.
And thus, the final match ended — and the Yu Clan’s most legendary junior tournament reached its climax.
That... was yet to come.