"Let this Douhun officially begin!"
As the host's voice rang out.
The atmosphere inside Arena Seven instantly exploded.
Deafening cheers erupted—all for Black Dragon.
On the Douhun Platform.
Black Dragon spread his arms, savoring the adoration.
He looked at Yang Yuan, his Face full of contempt.
Against any other opponent he wouldn't be like this.
But Yang Yuan's age was too deceiving; Black Dragon simply didn't take him seriously.
"Looks like I'm being underestimated!"
Yang Yuan gave a laugh at the sight.
Hearing the roaring crowd, he couldn't help grinning.
The next second.
A ray of Chaos light burst from Yang Yuan's Heavy Pupils.
Under everyone's gaze, two spirit rings slowly rose.
Purple—still purple!
Countless spectators watching Arena Seven froze, then burst into cheers ten times louder than before.
"Two thousand year spirit rings!"
"Am I seeing things?"
"How could a Two-Ring Great Soul Master have that combo?"
"It's an illusion—has to be!"
Voices of disbelief mixed with the cheering.
Even the students of Heavenly Grade Class One were stunned.
Though Yang Yuan had never shown his rings, they'd assumed they were the usual pair of hundred-year rings.
No one had imagined.
Yang Yuan's first and second rings weren't hundred-year, but thousand-year.
How was that possible?
Weren't the limits of a first ring just over four hundred years?
This was too abnormal.
Throughout history, only those with twin spirits could start with a thousand—or even ten-thousand-year—first ring.
Seeing this, Dugu Yan's worry vanished; she murmured.
"Younger Brother Yang Yuan, you hide things too well—you didn't even tell me."
Yet when she recalled their relationship had only improved these last couple of days, she let it go.
On Arena Seven, the moment Black Dragon saw the two purple rings, his body shuddered, every hair standing on end.
Disbelief flashed in his eyes.
Both were Two-Ring Great Soul Masters—how could this half-grown kid have two thousand-year rings?
How did he do it?
The thought vanished in an instant.
Though shocked beyond words, Black Dragon was battle-hardened; he forced himself to steady his nerves in moments.
Now wasn't the time to be Divided Soul.
Steeling himself, countless thoughts raced through his mind.
Sure, the brat's twin purple rings were intimidating.
But Douhun wasn't decided by ring color.
Otherwise they'd just compare colors and be done.
He didn't know why the kid's first two rings were purple, but he himself was a twenty-ninth Rank Spirit Grandmaster with hundreds of fights under his belt—surely he wouldn't lose to an eight- or nine-year-old?
With that, Black Dragon released his Spirit.
In an instant two yellow rings spiraled up from his feet.
A pitch-black longsword appeared in his hand.
The moment his Spirit manifested, his body shot forward, spirit power surging as he thrust his sword.
Ambushing a child might lack honor, but after years of Douhun, victory mattered; Face meant nothing.
Though confident, he held nothing back.
Thanks to long experience, his swordplay was tricky and fierce, his speed lightning-fast.
An ordinary Great Soul Master would be caught off guard.
Yet facing that cunning thrust, Yang Yuan's Heavy Pupils flashed with Chaos light, and he drifted aside like Gui Mei.
At the same time he raised a hand.
An illusory black longsword condensed in his grip.
Seeing it, Black Dragon's pupils contracted.
This… this was his own Mo Sha Sword—how could the kid have it too?
For a moment he doubted his own eyes.
The trick was Yang Yuan using his Heavy Pupils to copy Black Dragon's Spirit.
Before absorbing rings he couldn't have done it so fast, but after two rings his mastery had leapt.
Ordinary Spirits he could replicate after a single glance.
Sword in hand, he spun and stabbed back.
In a flash, Black Dragon's heart lurched again—the Move was identical to his own.
No—faster and even trickier!
By now he no longer treated Yang Yuan as some child, but as a formidable foe.
Yet the shock had only begun.
Very soon he would learn Yang Yuan's true terror: whatever attack he used, Yang Yuan mirrored flawlessly.
Gradually, terror filled Black Dragon's eyes.
He tried to rely on higher Spirit Power Level and greater speed and strength, only to find Yang Yuan matched them exactly.
In the end it felt like he was fighting his own reflection—except the reflection's technique was superior.
To describe it: like a father spanking his son—pain light, humiliation heavy!
Black Dragon roared, his spirit rings flashing.
First Spirit Skill: Wind-Splitting Slash.
A twelve-foot Sword Qi burst from his blade, racing toward Yang Yuan.
His gaze was grave.
"You can't copy my Spirit Ability!"
At first Yang Yuan's stillness delighted him.
But as the Sword Qi was about to strike, Chaos light flickered in his eyes, countless runes rearranging.
The instant Black Dragon had launched the skill, Yang Yuan had traced its spirit power path and copied it perfectly.
spirit power surged through Yang Yuan.
With lightning speed he slashed.
Wind-Splitting Slash!
An eighteen-foot Sword Qi roared like Dragon and Tiger.
The two Qi clashed mid-air.
Same ability—yet wildly different in power.
Yang Yuan's strike obliterated Black Dragon's and crashed into him unhindered.
Black Dragon's Face twisted as he flew like a broken kite, slamming off Arena Seven.
After a brief hush.
Thunderous cheers erupted from every side.
Standing at the center of the platform, Yang Yuan's lips curved.
Victory was decided!
Showing off really does feel great!
(End of Chapter)
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