Near-Instant Kill: Level 8, Battle Against the Hunting Phoenix Butterfly
The storm of wind blades was a maelstrom of death, capable of shredding steel and flesh alike. Yet, as they met the pale, nine-colored chaos of the Ancestral Dragon Qi shield, they did not so much explode as unravel. The primordial energy within the shield devoured the structured wind energy, dissolving the blades into harmless gusts that whipped at Yao Xuan's clothes but could not touch his skin.
Through the dissipating tempest, Yao Xuan shot forward like a golden javelin. The 'Ancestral Dragon Shattering Void Step' allowed him to traverse the distance in a blink, the space itself seeming to contract before him.
The Hunting Phoenix Butterfly's compound eyes, each facet reflecting a miniature image of the approaching dragon-boy, flickered with what might have been surprise. This prey did not flee or cower; it attacked into the heart of the storm. Instinctively, it beat its magnificent wings, not to attack again, but to ascend, to regain the aerial advantage that was its birthright.
But Yao Xuan had anticipated this. Mid-stride, he inhaled deeply, and the air around him trembled.
"Ancestral Dragon's Roar!"
The roar was not a wide-area blast this time, but a focused cone of sonic and spiritual force, aimed directly at the space above the butterfly. It was a suppression tactic—not to harm, but to stun, to disrupt the delicate, powerful coordination of wing and wind required for flight.
The wave of draconic majesty hit. The Hunting Phoenix Butterfly shuddered violently in mid-air, its ascent faltering. The brilliant colors of its wings dimmed for a critical half-second. The bloodline suppression, potent against even this creature with a trace of phoenix lineage, weighed it down like chains.
That half-second was all Yao Xuan needed.
He reached the point below it and leaped, not with raw power alone, but with a spiraling motion. Golden dragonforce coiled around his right leg.
The Hunting Phoenix Butterfly, recovering, tried to pivot, its sharp, blade-like forelimbs slashing downward in a graceful, deadly arc.
Yao Xuan didn't try to block. He twisted his body in the air, an impossible contortion that let the slashing limb pass millimeters from his chest. His own right leg, now a golden blur of concentrated force, snapped upward in a devastating kick.
"Ancestral Dragon's Tail Whip!"
The kick wasn't named, but the technique was pure draconic instinct—a whip-crack of power targeting the junction of the butterfly's thorax and abdomen, its center of balance and energy flow.
CRACK-THUD.
The sound was sickeningly solid. The beautiful, formidable soul beast was flung sideways, crashing into the hard ground of the arena with enough force to crack the stone. One of its crystalline wings snapped with a sound like breaking glass. Its aura plummeted.
Yao Xuan landed, his momentum carrying him into a forward roll that brought him right next to the dazed creature. He didn't hesitate. His right hand, claws gleaming, lashed out in a final, mercifully precise strike to its core, ending the battle before it could suffer further.
The magnificent butterfly dissolved into a swirl of iridescent light and motes of elemental wind.
The restorative light that followed felt charged with a fleeting, effervescent quality, like breathing high-altitude air.
In the observation room, the silence was profound.
Leng Yaozhu's hand had risen unconsciously to cover her parted lips. The Hunting Phoenix Butterfly was a legend, a nightmare for many Soul Sages, let alone Soul Kings. Its speed and razor-sharp wind control were supposed to be overwhelming. Yet Yao Xuan had… solved it. He used a defensive skill to nullify the opening barrage, a control skill to ground it, and close-quarters agility to deliver a finishing blow. It was a three-step dismantling of a superior aerial foe.
"He… he didn't just overpower it," she breathed, her voice full of awe. "He outmaneuvered it. He fought like he understood its very nature." She turned to Gu Yue, whose face was now illuminated by the soft glow of the screen, her expression one of serene vindication. "Yue'er… what is he?"
Gu Yue's eyes remained on the screen where Yao Xuan now stood, awaiting the final gate. "He is the one who keeps his promises," she said softly, an answer that spoke to Na'er's memories. Then, layering Gu Yue's analytical tone over it, she added, "His combat algorithms are adapting in real-time. The Tower's data is refining him."
Before Leng Yaozhu could untangle that statement, the scene shifted once more.
The arena cleared. A final portal materialized before Yao Xuan. This one was neither golden, nor crimson, nor azure. It was a deep, profound void-black, shot through with silent, silver streaks that resembled falling stars. It emitted no sound, no palpable heat or cold. It simply existed, a tear in reality that drank the light and exuded an aura of absolute, quiet finality.
The Ninth Level.
The Soul Emperor-level trial.
Yao Xuan stared into the abyssal gate. His body was at its peak, restored by the Tower's energy. His mind was sharp, honed by eight successive victories. But for the first time, a flicker of true gravity passed through him. This was the realm of his teacher, Di Tian. This was a threshold that defined power on the continent.
He thought of Gu Yue's eyes—both the bright, trusting ones of the past and the deep, mysterious ones of the present. He thought of the unspoken mission that hung between them, the destiny of the Dragon God. This was not just a test for a title. This was a step toward becoming someone capable of standing beside the Silver Dragon King, not as a pawn of destiny, but as her equal partner.
He clenched his fists, feeling the dragon scales whisper into existence along his skin, not in a flashy display, but as a solid, unwavering commitment. The golden light within him burned steady and deep.
Without a word, he stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the silent, star-strewn black.