The following fights were a testament to the gulf that had opened. Cultivators of ordinary skill contested the remaining qualifying slots, their struggles earnest but dimmed by the memory of what had come before. The air thrummed with the blunt force of Jingdao clashes, but none held the chilling artistry of Ning, the overbearing might of the Kang brother, the serene lethality of Juxian, or the cold dominion of Baili.
Ning completed his fifth and final victory in the same manner as his first. His opponent, a capable Second Wheel user, launched a complex net of Shidow-manipulated wind blades. Ning simply stood, and when the moment was right, he moved. There was no flash, no sound. One moment he was across the ring; the next, he stood beside his opponent, his fingers resting lightly on the man's throat. A single, precise touch, and the cultivator slumped, unconscious. The crowd watched in hushed dread. "I pray I never draw his name," someone whispered, a sentiment echoed in a dozen fearful glances.
Baili's remaining bouts were exercises in disdain. He never once used Jingdao to reinforce his own body. He stood motionless, and when his opponents charged, he gestured. A wall of dense cloud from his Cloud Juggernaut would appear to intercept a punch, absorbing the force and then shoving the attacker from the ring. A tendril of mist would coil around an ankle and unceremoniously flip a cultivator head over heels. He defeated them with pure Zhidow-creation, never feeling the need to harden his own skin. "Does he even know the First Wheel?" a spectator wondered aloud, which was the highest compliment one could pay to such arrogant mastery.
Juxian fought with a cheerful, respectful efficiency. He bowed to each opponent. Then, with his fluid, impossible Agile Mountain Jingdao, he would redirect their strength, unbalance their roots, and apply minimal, precise force to joints or pressure points, ending each match without serious injury but with absolute control. He was a dancer in a brawl, and his jar never seemed to impede him.
Kang Hao, the sole remaining brother, fought with a fury that was a mirror to his shame. His General's Armor technique was cruder without his brother's spear, but it was also angrier, more brutal. He won his last match by simply walking through his opponent's most powerful Shidow barrage, letting the energy screech and spark against his luminous shield, before grabbing the exhausted cultivator by the collar and tossing him out of the ring. It was overbearing, personal, and left no doubt about his power.
Now, only four stood in the center of the Ironwood Grove: Baili, an iceberg of pride; Juxian, a cheerful enigma; Ning, a silent blade; and Kang Hao, a simmering volcano of wounded arrogance. The crowd, now a thick, buzzing mass of every cultivator in Stonewatch, held its collective breath. This was the convergence. The final clash.
Speculation was a fever.
"The Cloud Juggernaut is unstoppable in a direct contest!"
"But can it catch the Agile Mountain?Can it defend against the Silent Departure?"
"The General's Armor might withstand them all!He just needs one opening!"
"It's impossible to call."
Lorel, seated on a low stone ledge with Chubbs fussing beside her, watched through eyes still shadowed with pain but sharp with focus. Her wounds, while closed by Juxian's intervention, were a web of deep, aching weakness. "Who do you think?" she asked softly.
Chubbs, who usually had a bombastic prediction ready, just shook his head, his brow furrowed. "The mountain, the shadow, the fortress, and the storm… my lady, for the first time, my tongue is empty. It's like asking which edge of a sword is sharpest. They'll all draw blood."
Even the Third Wheel supervisor watched with naked anticipation, his earlier sternness replaced by the keen interest of a connoisseur about to witness a masterpiece.
He stepped forward, ready to announce the pairings for the semi-finals. He opened his mouth.
A figure darted from the tree line, a messenger in dusty travel clothes, who rushed to the elder's side and whispered urgently into his ear.
The change on the elder's face was immediate and profound. The anticipation drained away, replaced by a flash of frustration, then a weary, bureaucratic resignation. His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly.
The crowd's buzzing died, sensing the shift.
"What is it?" someone shouted.
"Get on with it!"
The elder raised a hand for silence, his expression now stern again, but with a new edge of irritation. "The situation has changed. The map-holder, Young Lin, has sent word. The parameters of the… selection… are altered."
A wave of angry confusion erupted. "Altered? How?"
"We fought for nothing?"
"This is a scam!"
Chubbs stood up. "What's the meaning of this?"
Baili's voice cut through the din, cold and flat. "It means he wants to fight us. All of us. And he will."
His declaration was met with a chorus of reactions from the other three. Juxian tilted his head, curious. "A delayed test? Interesting." Ning's eyes narrowed slightly, analyzing the tactical implications. Kang Hao's lip curled. "Let him try. My armor is not so easily rescheduled."
The elder's voice rose, commanding. "Silence! This is not a child's game of provocation. The Sky Ocean Passage is not a prize for talented juveniles. It is a peril that has swallowed legends. Lin has decided—and his decision is final—that the final selection will be held in two months' time. In the heart of the Four Kingdoms."
The announcement landed like a stone. The Four Kingdoms. The heart of the continent, a nexus of ancient power and current political strife.
"Where?" Kang Hao demanded, his voice taut. This was his territory.
"The location will be revealed to qualifiers when the time is near," the elder said, his tone brooking no argument. "You have your medallions. They are your tickets. Be ready to travel when the summons comes. The final trial will be held at the midpoint of the year. Dismissed."
Frustration, disappointment, and simmering excitement warred in the grove. The climactic battle had been snatched away, replaced by a looming, larger challenge.
The four finalists exchanged looks—a silent, electric recognition passing between them. The unfinished business was now a debt, to be collected in two months.
Juxian ran a hand through his hair with a sigh of genuine exasperation. "Ah… Uncle Zhao is going to skin me alive. I left the mountain without even a note." It was the first personal detail he'd ever let slip.
Ning offered a slight bow to the group. "I will take my leave. I look forward to our eventual meeting. In two months, I intend to be stronger. If I cannot be confident of a one hundred percent victory against each of you by then, the outcome will already be decided." His statement wasn't a boast; it was a simple, terrifying equation.
Juxian grinned. "I'll be waiting!"
Kang Hao said nothing. He merely turned and stalked away, his back rigid. The vow was written in the tense line of his shoulders: Next time. I will be your collective nightmare.
Baili watched them go, utterly unconcerned. "Here, there, or in seven years," he said to no one in particular, the words carrying on the thin mountain air. "The result is the same. You will be crushed."
As the crowd began to disperse, grumbling and gossiping, Juxian approached Lorel and Chubbs. He bowed to Lorel. "Lady Lorel. I am glad to see you upright."
Lorel, moved by a sincerity she rarely encountered, bowed her head as deeply as her injuries allowed. "I owe you my life. Thank you, Juxian."
A faint, uncharacteristic pinkness touched Juxian's ears. He waved his hands dismissively, his jar swinging. "No, no! It was nothing! Just… basic application! Anyone would have done the same!" He was flustered, the unshakable, cheerful warrior replaced by a shy young man.
Chubbs clapped him on the shoulder (carefully avoiding the jar). "Brother Juxian! A true hero! I hope our paths cross again, preferably before someone tries to kill us next time!"
With final nods, they parted ways.
Back in their room at The Granite Pillow Inn, the atmosphere was heavy with unsaid things. Lorel sat gingerly on the edge of her bed, every movement a reminder of the Kang brothers' fury. Baili stood by the small window, looking out at the darkening peaks.
The immediate goal was achieved—a Jade Medallion was secured. But it felt like holding a single piece of a shattered blade. The real fight, against opponents of terrifying and unknown caliber, had been postponed, its edge now honed by anticipation and a journey into the dangerous heart of the world.
The tournament in Stonewatch was over. But for Lorel, Baili, and Chubbs, the true trial had just been given a date and a direction: two months, and the Four Kingdoms.