The stage wasn’t large enough for more than sixteen contestants to have ample size to themselves, and that was why it was easy to annihilate the weaker ones.

Much like before, Tristan activated his Martial Intent as the Qi started to flow turbulently and assailed everyone within the stage, threatening to smash them down to the ground. Resisting it was directly proportional to the Martial Intent within those that tried to resist: the will to fight back.

In the Qualifier, Adrian was confident.

He could take on the Martial Intent with some trouble and he could almost ignore the Shadow’s Killing Intent as he knew it couldn’t harm him, but now, he knew the gap between Tristan and himself.

His knees trembled. When he was almost on the verge of plummeting to the ground, another presence made itself known from next to him.

Edna was leaking Killing Intent, unlike his brother.

If you could liken Martial Intent to a bonfire that threatened to singe your flesh, then Killing Intent was like a storm of glass. It sought to pierce into the flesh and it covered every millimeter of the body.

The stark contrast between the effects of the Martial Intent and Killing Intent on Adrian was noticeably different.

The Killing Intent came from Edna, whom Adrian assumed he had a chance against, and thus, it did little to damage him. The needles trying to pierce into his flesh were akin to toothpicks that were being slightly tapped in intervals.

The Martial Intent, on the other hand, came from Tristan, whom Adrian saw as someone superior. That made the flame hotter as if his face was being held against a metal that was on the verge of melting.

As easy as it was to release either of the two, using it in any offensive capacity, and intentionally, at that, was extremely difficult.

“Wake up,” said a distant voice.

It sounded like it was the echo of an echo reaching him from the other side of a thick forest, barely audible.

“Come back to your senses!” roared the voice, snapping him back to reality and the current situation.

The fight had already started and Edna had produced her rapier already, now matching Tristan move for move.

One of Emma’s hands were pale beyond compare and she was huffing, now kneeling on the ground.

Adrian looked around for the source of the voice and just before he chalked it up to the Shadow shouting within his head, he found Eric, standing a few meters in front of him, arms crossed.

“You’re finally awake,” said Eric and his trademark frown became less severe, closer to a neutral expression than a full-on scowl, “Draw your weapon.”

“Was it you?” asked Adrian.

Before he could get an answer, Eric was already next to him after a skillful usage of the Far Step, his fist almost in front of his abdomen.

Adrian activated the Cloud Body Technique just in time, letting his body sway along with the movements of the fist.

After Eric had extended his arms to the limit, he deactivated it and thrust his fist toward Eric’s face, now too busy fighting to care about reason, not to win, but to show-off a tad bit.

There was no meaning behind winning the tournament now, after all.

But before he could do that, as if by magic, Eric’s fist extended and struck him in the belly to send him tumbling a few inches away.

“You’re fighting a Cultivator, not a mortal. Pull yourself together,” said Eric as he pulled back his hand and placed it back in its place, probably after dislocating it, “Did you suddenly become a wimp after you got struck by that pathetic Martial Intent? I expected better from you.”

Adrian grit his teeth and thought.

Eric was better than him when it came to a normal fight, but if he used a Qi Technique, then he had a chance. But against an opponent of his caliber, he had to cheat.

That was the only way…

The Shadow chuckled within his head but Adrian was too busy to take notice of that.

“This is a pickle,” Adrian mumbled underneath his breath as he took a faux stance, imitating Diana, with one fist below the chin and the other a bit to the front and below the first one, “I guess I’ll have to fight seriously.”

“Your stance is all wrong,” Eric remarked as he extended a hand to his side.

In his hand, an abundance of the mist that was Qi gathered and formed his spear: produced from his Spatial Ring.

“I’m not going easy against a coward,” he said and before Adrian could even react, the first thrust came.

Using the Cloud Body Technique against a piercing attack wasn’t very effective. In the very least, he’d be nipped and if he proceeded to slash, then he’d be downed for sure.

It called for drastic measures, and that meant he had to jump.

Jump as high as he could, and then activate the Cloud Body Technique, just like he’d done with Diana in their fight.

This time, it wasn’t an ace in the hole but rather, just a way to buy some time for a plan.

Even if he could disarm Eric, it’d be difficult to fight him afterward. It’d be even more difficult than fighting Diana, he wagered. After all, Eric seemed far more skilled than he was.

“Get down and fight me fair,” growled Eric as he saw Adrian fly up, fueled by his considerable strength and supported by his complete lack of weight.

Up above, as he fluttered down from almost thirty meters, he overlooked the entire situation on the stage.

On one part, Tristan and Edna were exchanging move after move, each rapier strike repelling one from Tristan’s staff and the occasional strike landed, only to be dodged or mitigated to become completely and utterly ineffective.

Emma, on the other hand, was struggling, barely able to move as Isabella casually shot large crystals of ice… that was a Qi Technique!

How was she able to use it so much?

“The girl is using her Martial Heart for fuel. She’s gathered Qi within an imitation of a Dantian for later usage, which is now,” explained the Shadow, “Your bride is in trouble. Aren’t you going to help?”

“I can’t,” Adrian mumbled out loud.

“Everyone can try. Only a few of those that do, however, reach their goal,” it said, “Where is the boy that threatened to lock me in my tomb for all of time? Where is he who aspires of Perpetuity? Because I cannot see that man within you, brat. You’re a mere broken child now.”

Was he?

No, that couldn’t be it.

Even if he was, so what?

His goal hadn’t changed.

He wanted to become immortal: to achieve eternity.

That place…

He never wanted to visit that place again.

It was filled with screams of terror and it smelled of burnt flesh, as well as rotten corpses. The air was bone-chillingly cold and hot enough to burn the lungs as it passed through the nose, leaving a trail of pain behind.

He didn’t want to die again.

Never.

Not again.

“It’s just a tournament,” said Adrian.

“Will you give up, then, brat?” asked the Shadow, its voice gleeful.

“No,” he said, “I’ll win. The path to the only victory that matters is paved with a thousand small ones.”

The Shadow quieted down.

“That world of yours. It’s disgusting,” said Adrian as he reached the ground and landed with his back facing Eric.

“You’re underestimating me!” Eric shouted and dashed toward Adrian, but he expected that.

If he got struck by the spear, he could die.

If he died, he’d be there again.

So that wouldn’t happen.

Adrian had an idea of how fast Eric was, so when he expected Eric to be halfway through, he turned around and activated the Mystifying Palm Technique.

What seemed like a cheat before ended up being nothing more than a way to grab onto something that couldn’t be grabbed, as far as his expertise allowed. Only the Cloud Body Technique would be a game-changer against Eric, but even then, piercing attacks were its weakness.

It’d be a tough match.

Adrian’s palm latched onto the side of the spear’s blade, giving him maximum leverage at an unexpected moment.

In essence, both Eric and he were of the same level when it came to strength. However, the real difference came in the form of weight.

As Eric had broken through to the Flesh Refinement Layer, he’d already started making his flesh denser, and thus, was heavier than him. It meant that unless Adrian caught him off guard, he would be lifted before he could lift Eric.

The weight wouldn’t be a factor once they grew to a sufficiently high level, but that was too far away.

Using the spear as a lever, Adrian pulled it down as he squatted, forcing Eric’s body up into the air.

The grip that Eric had on his spear didn’t allow him to fight back against Adrian, but within a few seconds, Eric realized the game and advanced his grip so that it was closer to Adrian, past the halfway point.

That made the leverage ineffective, but he won a few seconds: a few seconds in which he could do something that could matter.

Thinking on his feet, Adrian sent his fist at Eric’s face.

With a satisfying snap, the fist connected and forced Eric to face away.

That won him a few seconds!

Using that time, Adrian pried one of Eric’s hands off the spear and pulled it with all his might, now using both hands: one on the blade, stuck to it with the Mystifying Palm Technique and the other holding it somewhere around the midway point.

That let him pull it off from Eric’s hands.

With swift movements and the ease of use that the spear was designed for, Adrian swirled it around and by the time Eric finally turned around to meet Adrian’s eyes, it was already embedded into his shoulder.

“Ah,” groaned Eric as he took a step back.

The firm flesh that had been condensed would be almost impossible to pierce with normal spears, but this wasn’t a normal weapon.

This was an Aural Item, meant to be used for combat between Cultivators and that meant it was durable.

“You lost,” said Adrian, huffing.

Eric scowled, deeper than his usual frown, and raised his hand high up: his right one, which wasn’t stabbed in the shoulder.

“I forfeit!” he shouted.

One down.

Just when he let out a sigh of relief, Eric lunged at Adrian and before he even realized it, Adrian was on the ground.

Was that a feint?

No, that couldn’t be. It was illegal to do that. It would be trickery, and even if it wasn’t illegal, it’d lose him face.

Eric stood there, his palm almost fully punctured by a needle of ice that he used his hand to stop. The spear was driven deeper until it came out the other side and slid, coated with dark brown blood.

“Bella!” Eric shouted, gritting his teeth, and then he continued with a slightly quieter tone, which grew dimmer by the second, “Don’t use such cheap tricks. It’s pathetic.”

Right after he muttered the last word, he collapsed to the ground.

The judge intervened then, pouncing into the stage to rescue Eric.

Isabella froze in shock, one hand over her mouth, and Emma didn’t waste that chance. She managed to use a Far Step to close the distance and hacked at Isabella’s arm with her saber, now held in the left hand as the other one was frozen or affected by frostbite.

Contrary to her usual composed appearance, Emma’s eyes were bloodshot and her hair was messy, a few trails of red running down across her body.

“You whore,” hissed Isabella after being slashed until the bone, which could very well be broken.

“Forfeit,” said Emma as she pushed the saber closer to her bone and up, cutting into Isabella’s flesh, “If you want to keep the arm, that is.”

Isabella, too, forfeited with that.

It was a dirty win, but it was a win nonetheless.

But did Emma just go along with such a dirty trick?

Then in a very expected turn of events, Emma turned to Isabella as she flailed away, holding onto her bleeding arm, “Hey.”

Isabella turned to Emma and snarled.

“He’s my man. If you’re trying to stab him in the back, I’ll obviously stop you,” she said.

She was showing off, again.

But the real issue wasn’t Eric or Isabella.

It was Tristan.