Sword Art Minor Mastery, Combat Platform

In a corner of the Martial Arts Arena, the air seemed to have frozen solid.

Fang Tao stared fixedly at Fang Han's sword-wielding figure several yards away, his pupils widening slightly from overwhelming shock.

Fang Han's sword no longer carried the crude stiffness it had before. It seemed to have come alive.

In his hands, the Refined Iron Longsword flowed through every thrust, sweep, lift, and flick with an indescribable smoothness and spirit.

The sound of the blade cutting through the air was light and swift, as though a wisp of breeze truly circled around him again and again.

"This exertion and these transitions..."

Fang Tao's heart seemed to be clutched by an icy hand before plunging straight into an abyss.

"Minor Mastery! He actually... achieved Minor Mastery in Sword Art?!"

An immense sense of absurdity, followed by even more intense bitterness, instantly drowned Fang Tao.

On the day of the Martial Dao Stele test, when he had seen his ranking fall behind Fang Han's—the last person to break through to Flesh Refining—and noticed the strange looks from the others, intense unwillingness and humiliation had welled up within him.

Over the past few days, he had trained like a madman. Even while eating, he practiced his moves, and before sleeping, he still reviewed his methods of exerting force.

He had held his breath, wanting only to surpass Fang Han as quickly as possible—to overtake him once more.

Yet the flowing Sword Art before him, already at Minor Mastery, was like a basin of icy water that thoroughly extinguished the impractical flame in his heart, leaving behind nothing but cold ashes.

Not only had the gap not narrowed, it had instead... grown even wider!

So wide that it left him suffocating, despairing.

Fang Han had not only surpassed him in martial cultivation, but even in martial techniques. How was he supposed to catch up now?

"How... is that possible?"

Fang Tao murmured in a daze. His fingers clenched the sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white, trembling faintly as though he could barely hold the hilt.

The unwillingness of being surpassed had now turned into a deeper powerlessness, gnawing at his confidence like a venomous snake.

He had a premonition that he might find it difficult to surpass Fang Han again for the rest of his life.

"Hiss... Fang Han's sword?"

"His force flows so smoothly, and the power comes right through. That is definitely Sword Art at Minor Mastery!"

"With Sword Art like that, no wonder he ranked fifty-ninth on the Martial Dao Stele and suppressed Fang Tao and the others!"

Several disciples who had entered the Inner Hall in the same batch also noticed Fang Han's change. Their discussion was filled with undisguised astonishment.

Gazes fell upon Fang Han one after another, filled with scrutiny and disbelief.

This branch-family disciple, who had only barely squeezed into the Inner Hall at the very end, seemed to be growing at a speed none of them had anticipated, making them unable to help but feel a sense of crisis.

Only Fang Lin stood with his arms folded. He cast a distant glance toward Fang Han as he practiced his sword, curled his lip, and revealed a trace of undisguised contempt.

He then looked away and continued focusing on his own fist forms.

His fist technique had long since entered Minor Mastery and was already not far from Mastery.

In his eyes, Fang Han's Sword Art, which had only just reached Minor Mastery, was merely passable.

As for making him feel a sense of crisis or catching up to him? That was the dream of a fool.

A nearly inaudible snort escaped his nostrils, carrying a cold indifference that dismissed it all.

"Whew—"

Sweat soaked through Fang Han's training clothes, clinging tightly to his skin. Every swing of his sword tugged at his aching muscles.

An hour of high-intensity Sword Art practice had drained every last bit of strength from his body.

Continuing to train might injure him, so he slowly lowered his sword, its tip hanging toward the ground. His chest rose and fell as he let out a long breath of stale air.

Just as he prepared to drag his exhausted body aside for a brief rest, deliberately raised cries of excitement suddenly erupted from the other end of the Martial Arts Arena.

"Quick, head to the Combat Platform! There's a good show!"

"Who's fighting who?"

"It's Fang Lie, ranked eleventh, against Fang Mei, ranked tenth!"

"Fang Lie, ranked eleventh, is challenging Fang Mei, ranked tenth? Interesting!"

"Come on, come on, let's go watch!"

The news was like a massive boulder thrown into a tranquil lake, instantly stirring enormous ripples.

The disciples who had been training separately, whether Inner Hall veterans or newcomers, were all drawn in by this challenge involving the "top ten tier."

Many immediately stopped their training. With excitement and curiosity on their faces, they surged toward the Combat Platform on the eastern side of the Martial Arts Arena, built from hard bluestone and guarded by dedicated instructors.

Fang Han's heart stirred as well.

A battle between top-ten-ranked disciples? Even in the Inner Hall, that absolutely counted as a rare spectacle.

It was the perfect chance to understand the level of the strongest disciples.

Without the slightest hesitation, he followed the crowd toward the Combat Platform at a brisk pace, treating it as a way to ease his physical fatigue.

A considerable crowd had already gathered around the Combat Platform, their discussions buzzing without end.

"I heard Senior Brother Fang Lie initiated the challenge himself. He refuses to accept being ranked below Fang Mei, and he wants to defeat her and make her hand over the monthly reward for tenth place!"

"The Martial Dao Stele only tests attacking power, but actual combat has a great deal to do with fighting technique and combat experience. Fang Lie's strength may not necessarily be weaker than Fang Mei's!"

Senior Sister Fang Mei's Frost Palm is no joke either. This is going to be a good show!"

Standing amid the crowd, Fang Han pricked up his ears and caught fragments of conversation around him. He soon pieced together the reason for this challenge.

It turned out that Fang Lie, ranked eleventh, was dissatisfied with the Martial Dao Stele's ranking. He believed his overall strength was no weaker than Fang Mei's, who ranked tenth, and had therefore boldly issued a challenge.

His target was the monthly extra resources that made every Inner Hall disciple green with envy, available only to those ranked in the top ten.

At the center of the Combat Platform, the two had already taken their positions.

On the left stood Fang Lie, lean and fierce as a leopard. His fitted martial outfit outlined the smooth lines of his muscles, while his hawk-sharp eyes carried undisguised fighting intent and edge.

His fists were tightly clenched, his finger joints whitened from the pressure. A heavy aura belonging to the Tendon Refining Realm slowly rose around him as his blazing gaze locked onto the opponent before him.

On the right stood Fang Mei, dressed in a simple white training outfit. Her features were pleasing, and her temperament was like a plum blossom.

She stood straight, her eyes calm and unruffled, as though what stood before her was not a challenge concerning honor and resources, but merely an ordinary spar.

Also at the Tendon Refining Realm, she faintly emitted an elusive chill that formed a stark contrast with Fang Lie's blazing battle intent.

"The spar begins! Stop at the proper point!"

A stern-faced Inner Hall Instructor standing beside the platform spoke in a low voice.

"Ha!"

Before the instructor's words had even faded, Fang Lie moved!

He stomped hard upon the bluestone platform, his body shooting forward like an arrow loosed from its bow, so fast that a blurred afterimage trailed behind him.

His goal was extremely clear—seize the initiative and suppress Fang Mei with a raging, storm-like offensive.

"Tiger Roar Fist: Stone Splitting!"

His fist wind howled, carrying an unmatched force as it tore through the air with a dull explosive boom and drove straight at Fang Mei's centerline.

In this punch, power, speed, and momentum all surged to their peak, fully revealing his utter resolve.