Chapter 324: The Gale and the Boulder

Chapter 324: Chapter 324: The Gale and the Boulder

The arena’s massive sand timer was flipped.

Thirty minutes had passed.

Grand Marshal Vane’s voice echoed across the coliseum.

"Match 15. Wind Whisperer Sect versus Granite Peak Clan. Combatants, enter the arena."

The crowd erupted.

Damon leaned forward in the dugout, his golden eyes fixed on the massive stone gates.

The Wind Whisperer Sect emerged first.

Seven cultivators in flowing green robes, their movements so fluid they seemed to glide across the stone floor. Their leader was a lean man with sharp features and eyes that never stopped moving, scanning the arena for threats, angles, opportunities.

They spread out instantly, forming a loose circle.

Then the Granite Peak Clan entered.

Seven massive figures, each one built like a walking mountain. Their skin had a faint gray sheen—the result of decades of stone-body cultivation. Their leader was a woman with cropped black hair and arms thicker than most men’s legs.

She stomped once.

The ground trembled.

Damon watched with interest.

Speed versus durability. Classic matchup. But the Granite Peak Clan has a trick up their sleeve. I saw their gravitational techniques in the preliminary rounds. They can slow down anything that enters their range.

He glanced at Selene.

"What do you think?"

Selene’s eyes were fixed on the arena.

"Wind Whisperers will win the early exchanges. But if they can’t finish fast, the Granite Peak Clan will drag them into a war of attrition."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

Ariel leaned forward.

"Who do you want to win?"

Damon shrugged.

"Doesn’t matter. Neither of them will make it past the Top 8."

The gong sounded.

The match began.

The Wind Whisperer disciples exploded into motion.

Green robes blurred as they circled the arena, their bodies spinning like living tornados.

Razor-sharp wind blades erupted from their palms, slicing through the air toward the Granite Peak formation.

The stone cultivators raised their arms.

The wind blades struck their forearms with a sound like metal scraping stone.

Sparks flew.

But the stone armor held.

The Granite Peak captain smiled.

"Too weak."

She stomped again.

A wave of gray energy rippled outward from her feet, spreading across the arena floor like spilled ink.

The Wind Whisperer disciples stumbled.

Their graceful movements slowed, as if they were running through waist-deep mud.

"Gravity field," Damon murmured.

The Granite Peak Clan advanced.

Their heavy footsteps shook the arena as they marched forward, their stone fists raised, their bodies radiating pressure.

The Wind Whisperer captain’s eyes narrowed.

"Spread out! Don’t let them group us!"

His disciples scattered, fighting against the gravitational pull that tried to drag them down.

The Wind Whisperer captain raised his hands.

A cyclone formed around his body, spinning faster and faster until his robes were a blur of green.

He launched himself forward.

Straight at the Granite Peak captain.

She raised her fist.

He twisted mid-air, his body spinning like a drill, and slammed his foot into her wrist.

The impact cracked her stone armor.

She grunted.

But she didn’t fall.

Instead, she grabbed his ankle.

Her fingers closed around his leg like a vice.

"Got you."

She swung him into the ground.

The arena floor cratered.

The Wind Whisperer captain coughed blood, but he didn’t stay down.

He rolled, kicked off the ground, and launched himself back into the air.

Disciples followed.

Wind blades struck stone armor.

Stone fists swung through empty air.

They darted, landing cuts slowly.

But the gravity field never stopped.

Their movements grew slower.

Their blades grew weaker.

The Granite Peak cultivators pressed forward, their stone fists swinging, their bodies absorbing damage that would have killed lesser cultivators.

Damon watched the clock.

An hour passed.

Then ninety minutes.

The arena floor was a mess of craters and cracked stone.

Both sides were exhausted.

The Wind Whisperer Sect had lost two disciples—one with a broken arm, another unconscious from a crushing blow to the ribs.

The Granite Peak Clan had lost three—their stone armor shattered, their bodies battered beyond fighting.

Four Wind Whisperers remained.

Four Granite Peak cultivators remained.

The Wind Whisperer captain wiped blood from his mouth.

He looked at his remaining disciples.

They nodded.

He turned to face the Granite Peak captain.

"One final exchange."

She cracked her neck.

"Agreed."

Both sides charged.

The Wind Whisperer captain blurred forward, his body spinning, his wind blades forming a drill around his fist.

The Granite Peak captain raised her arms, her stone armor glowing with defensive energy.

His wind drill tore through her guard and armor. She grabbed his arm, headbutted him.

His skull cracked against her forehead.

Both staggered.

She blinked, dazed but standing.

He collapsed to his knees.

The crowd gasped.

But then—one of the remaining Wind Whisperer disciples moved.

A young woman with short green hair and fierce eyes.

She dashed forward, her body a blur of motion, and leaped into the air.

Her foot extended.

Her heel connected with the Granite Peak captain’s neck.

A precise pressure-point strike.

The Granite Peak captain’s eyes went wide.

She collapsed.

Her body hit the ground with a thunderous thud.

The remaining Granite Peak cultivators stared in shock.

The Wind Whisperer disciple stood over their fallen captain, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing.

"Yield."

The Granite Peak cultivators looked at each other.

Then at their unconscious captain.

They lowered their fists.

"We yield."

Grand Marshal Vane’s voice rang out.

"Wind Whisperer Sect wins. Granite Peak Clan is eliminated. Final score: 7-5."

The crowd erupted in applause.

Damon nodded slowly.

’Impressive finish. That pressure-point strike was perfectly executed. But they’re too exhausted to fight again tomorrow. They’ll be easy pickings for whoever draws them.’

He stood up, stretching his arms.

The sun was beginning to sink below the western horizon.

The arena’s massive lanterns ignited with golden solar fire, casting long shadows across the coliseum floor.

The herald’s voice echoed through the stands. ℴ

"Ladies and gentlemen! The final match of Day 1!"

The crowd roared.

"Match 16: Royal Solaris Academy versus Deep Sea Pavilion!"

Damon’s eyes narrowed.

’Royal Solaris Academy. That’s where the Solaris family trains their elites. And Deep Sea Pavilion... they’re from the eastern coastal territories. They specialize in water pressure techniques.’

He turned to his group.

"Watch this match carefully. Royal Solaris Academy is one of our biggest threats."

Ariel nodded.

Mio and Mia leaned forward.

Lumina’s hands tightened on her knees.

Damon noticed.

He reached over and squeezed her hand.

"Stay calm. Watch and learn."

Lumina took a deep breath.

She nodded.

The arena gates opened.

The final match of Day 1 was about to begin.