Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Clash of Titans!

The next morning, the grand martial arena of Jinhuan City was already teeming with people, a sea of heads jostling shoulder to shoulder. In stark contrast, the vacant seats of the Xu family appeared all the more desolate and forlorn.

Though only a single match was scheduled for today, everyone understood that this bout would be the most crucial and spectacular of the entire Clan Martial Gathering.

A clear, resonant chime rang out once more. Yang Yan's expression was grave as he reached out his right hand. "Moon Shadow Frost" emerged solemnly from his qiankun pouch, its silvery radiance cold and absolute.

"You are the first opponent I must take seriously..." For once, a rare fervor and anticipation broke through Liu Zhenqing's usually indifferent face, a glint flashing in his eyes before he, too, swept his hand across his own qiankun pouch.

A piercing hum erupted as a dazzling golden light burst forth from Liu Zhenqing's palm. The onlookers shielded their eyes. Only after the brilliance gradually faded did they focus their gaze upon the arena.

A long spear, nearly seven feet in length, had suddenly appeared in Liu Zhenqing’s grasp. The weapon was a pale gold throughout, its shaft straight and perfectly proportioned, gleaming with a mysterious luster—its material unknown. The gaze moved upward, tracing the intricate curves to the silvery spearhead, whose razor edges gleamed with a cold, deadly light. Most striking of all, the very tip of the spear bore a point of unfathomable blackness. As Yang Yan stared at it, he felt as though his very soul was being drawn in, unable to break free, and a sudden tremor passed through his heart.

"The grade of this spear is surely no less than that of my Moon Shadow Frost," Yang Yan thought to himself, his heart sinking.

Without another word, Liu Zhenqing thrust his right arm back, gripping the spear. His feet crossed swiftly, and he shot forward like an arrow loosed from the string, racing towards Yang Yan. The silvery spearhead scraped along the ground, sending dazzling sparks flying with his every stride.

In a flash, Liu Zhenqing was less than half a yard from Yang Yan. His right arm swung in a sudden arc, and with a thunderous rush, the golden spear swept toward him with unstoppable force.

At that moment, Yang Yan felt an icy, razor-sharp aura racing toward him, so intense that even from a distance it made his hair stand on end. He dared not hesitate—his right hand swung the sword with force, sending pure water-element spiritual energy surging along Moon Shadow Frost. The energy condensed into a sharp, tangible sword aura, slashing toward the oncoming golden spear light.

A metallic clash rang out, echoing through the arena as sword aura collided with spear light. In that instant, both shattered in a crystalline explosion, scattering into dozens of razor-sharp spiritual wind blades that spun and shot in all directions.

Both Liu Zhenqing and Yang Yan spun defensively, their treasures dancing in their hands as they deflected the deadly wind blades hurtling toward them.

A gasp rippled through the front rows as several wind blades, undeterred, shot toward the stands. Only when Elder Li, with a casual wave of his broad palm, effortlessly dispelled the attack, did the crowd finally breathe easy.

As the shock subsided, many among the audience could not help but marvel—regardless of victory or defeat, after today, these two young men would surely be counted among the top geniuses of Jinhuan City’s younger generation. To cause such a spectacle with mere Sense Spirit cultivation was no ordinary feat.

"Exhilarating! It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way..." Liu Zhenqing laughed aloud, his eyes burning as he fixed them on Yang Yan. It had been ages since anyone had excited him so.

Yang Yan smiled calmly in response. "From the very first day of the Clan Martial Gathering, I’ve been looking forward to this duel with you. Come, let’s fight to our hearts’ content!"

A surge of heroic spirit rose within Yang Yan, his fighting will blazing, transforming into a hot current that surged to his head. His blood boiled, overflowing with strength, and he could not help but want to shout to the heavens.

Liu Zhenqing’s gaze was feverish. He ran his tongue over his lips, set his spear, and with a shuddering tip, the weapon radiated its sharp edge. The next instant, his right arm thrust forward, the spear and his arm forming a single straight line. Man and weapon seemed fused as one, exuding a peerless, unstoppable momentum as he shot straight toward Yang Yan.

"Well met!" Yang Yan bellowed, his heart soaring. He had not expected one so young as Liu Zhenqing to possess such profound mastery of the spear. Though sword and spear were different, the Way of the Spear and the Way of the Sword led to the same ultimate truth. In that moment, Yang Yan felt a subtle kinship with his opponent. Laughing with boundless spirit, he raised his sword and strode forward to meet the attack.

In midair, sword tip and spear tip clashed like needle against awn, a tangible shockwave pulsing out from their meeting point, sending ripples of energy storming across the white jade platform.

The spear and sword trembled, and at their intersection, golden and translucent arcs of spiritual energy formed—one centered on Liu Zhenqing, the other on Yang Yan. The two auras corroded and pressed against each other but neither could gain the slightest ground.

With a thunderous explosion, the two energy rings suddenly erupted, a raging storm of spiritual power sweeping across the arena. The crowd narrowed their eyes, yet no one dared to look away. How could they bear to miss even a moment of such a breathtaking duel?

"Magnificent!" Liu Zhenqing shouted, face alight with excitement. Gripping his spear, he feinted and launched another fierce assault. Yang Yan, too, let out a long cry, his wrist flicking as Moon Shadow Frost shimmered with silver light, flowing like moonlight as he met the attack with all his strength.

Back and forth they went, each exchange more intense than the last.

Liu Zhenqing wielded his spear like a dragon, golden light dazzling. Each move, though seemingly simple, carried an indomitable momentum—unstoppable and overwhelming. With his gold-element spiritual power, his attacks were even more forceful and domineering. The golden radiance flashed across his resolute face, making him seem almost divine, intimidating to behold.

Yang Yan, meanwhile, spun his sword in elegant arcs. His strikes, less forceful than Liu Zhenqing’s, were flowing and unbroken, graceful as drifting clouds and flowing water. Observers could not help but be captivated, as if he were dancing with his blade. Yet beneath this apparent beauty lurked a chilling, lethal intent.

Unconsciously, the two had already exchanged nearly a hundred blows, with neither showing any sign of yielding.

Everyone in the stands watched in rapt silence; throughout the entire arena, save for the clash of weapons upon the stage, there was no other sound.

And as time passed, Yang Yan’s connection with Moon Shadow Frost grew ever more intimate, as if he were entering once again into that mysterious, transcendent state.