One Move to Victory, the Captain Steps Up

"Oh."

Fang Fan yawned and finally lifted his head from Zhu Zhuqing's shoulder.

His languid eyes swept over the indignant team members before him.

His tone was as calm as if he were discussing the weather:

"Come at me together."

Dugu Yan frowned, her expression darkening.

"You drunkard sure are arrogant—if you don't dare fight, get lost. All you can do is talk big!"

Her Jade Phosphorous Serpent Martial Soul stirred restlessly within her. No one had ever dared to be so arrogant in front of her.

"Come."

Fang Fan strode toward the center of the training ground.

He happened to want to see what effect that mutated first soul skill's—

seventy-percent Autonomous Tracking would have.

Dugu Yan snorted coldly and strode over, stopping three meters across from him.

The other team members scattered at once, clearing out the center of the field.

Yu Tianheng stood at the edge of the field with his arms still folded, a confident smile hanging at the corner of his lips—

Dugu Yan was a level thirty-eight Soul Elder, and her Jade Phosphorous Serpent Martial Soul had few rivals among those of the same rank.

Against a drunkard who could barely stand straight, the outcome would be decided within three moves.

Three Soul Rings slowly rose from beneath Dugu Yan's feet, two yellow and one purple, pulsing up and down.

The Jade Phosphorous Serpent Martial Soul appeared behind her, its dark green body coiled as eerie phosphorescence flickered in its snake eyes.

The aura of a level thirty-eight Soul Elder spread outward, and the team members at the edge of the field nodded one after another.

Fang Fan merely held the Seven-Colored Light Sword in his hand, its blade flowing with a faint seven-colored radiance.

He did not release any Soul Rings, did not gather strength, and did not even change his stance—

he was still standing crookedly, looking exactly like a drunkard who had been dragged onto the stage by force.

"Come on. You can have the first move."

Fang Fan extended his left hand in a gesture of invitation.

"Arrogant!"

Dugu Yan's face darkened.

This drunkard was actually this conceited. He dared let her move first without even releasing his Soul Rings. He clearly did not take her seriously.

She stopped wasting words as her third purple Soul Ring suddenly lit up—

"Third Soul Skill: Jade Phosphorous Serpent Venom!"

Dark green toxic miasma surged explosively from her palm, transforming into a roaring venomous python that pounced toward Fang Fan.

Wherever the poisonous mist passed, even the air was corroded with hissing sounds. If it struck head-on, the serpent venom would continuously erode Soul Power and burn the flesh. Soul Masters below level thirty could not withstand it for even three breaths.

She had absolute confidence that this strike would be enough to put this arrogant drunkard on the ground.

"Clang—"

Fang Fan casually swung his hand.

The movement was carefree and graceful, as though he were merely brushing away a speck of dust.

The first black Soul Ring beneath his feet suddenly enveloped the sword—

black, the purest and most absolute ten-thousand-year black.

A massive Seven-Colored Light Sword five meters long condensed out of thin air, its blade as broad as a door panel. Seven-colored light flowed endlessly across it, painting the entire training ground's ceiling in brilliant colors.

The giant sword descended from above, carrying incomparably sharp Sword Intent as it shot straight toward Dugu Yan.

"Uh—"

Everyone at the edge of the field sucked in a sharp breath at once.

What the hell was that?

No charging, no soul skill chant—just a casual wave, and there was a five-meter giant sword?

And while flying, that giant sword kept adjusting its direction, its tip constantly locked onto Dugu Yan.

Even more terrifyingly, as the giant sword descended, countless smaller Seven-Colored Light Swords suddenly shot out from the ground.

Dense as a rainstorm, they shot upward at Dugu Yan from below, attacking from above and below, leaving no escape.

Dugu Yan's pupils abruptly contracted.

She immediately activated her first soul skill, increasing her speed by thirty percent as she flashed to the side like a dark green bolt of lightning.

However, after only three steps, she discovered in horror that the giant sword had actually turned in midair and continued pursuing her.

The light swords erupting from the ground adjusted their angles at the same time, closing in from every direction.

Above, below, left, right, front, back—every sword seemed to have eyes, sealing off all her paths of retreat.

In an instant, she was surrounded by dozens of Seven-Colored Light Swords.

The sword tips hovered less than an inch from her skin, their seven-colored radiance reflected in her wide, shocked jade-green snake eyes.

She could even feel the faint chill emanating from the sword tips, making every hair on her body stand on end.

"You lost."

Fang Fan withdrew his hand, his tone as calm as if he were stating a fact that required no proof.

Dugu Yan stood where she was, her chest rising and falling violently.

In disbelief, she looked at the hovering light swords around her, then at the white-clad youth across from her, who had not used even a second Soul Ring, had barely looked at her directly, and from start to finish had merely swung his sword once.

One move.

He had used only one soul skill.

And she did not even know what his Soul Power Level was, nor how many Soul Rings he had in total—

she only knew that his first Soul Ring was black.

A black first Soul Ring—she had never even heard of such a thing.

The field edge fell silent.

At some point, Yu Tianheng had lowered his folded arms, his mouth slightly open.

His gaze was fixed on the black Soul Ring beneath Fang Fan's feet, which had yet to be withdrawn.

The team members who had been jeering moments ago now stood frozen with their mouths agape. No one dared say another word.

Dugu Yan stood in place as the hovering light swords around her scattered like fireflies.

Only seven-colored motes of light remained in the air, slowly drifting down beside her dark green ponytail.

The way she looked at Fang Fan had completely changed—

the disdain and contempt from before were gone, replaced by deep shock and a trace of heartfelt awe.

This drunkard of a youth, who looked as though he could barely stand, had forced her into a desperate situation where she could not fight back with just one move.

She had grown up amid the poisonous miasma of her grandfather, Dugu Bo, and as a level thirty-eight Soul Elder, she had rarely encountered an opponent among her peers.

Yet today, she had lost before even figuring out the other party's Soul Power Level.

She had lost cleanly and decisively, and she accepted it wholeheartedly.

"I lost."

She took a deep breath, forcing her turbulent emotions back into her chest. Then she stepped forward and solemnly lowered her head to Fang Fan.

"I was too arrogant just now. I'm sorry. You are qualified to join the Imperial Fighting Team."

Her voice remained cool, but the sincere apology and respect in her tone were clear to everyone present.

Seeing this, the other team members hurriedly followed.

The faces that had been jeering and mocking moments earlier now wore cautious smiles as they apologized over one another.

Zhu Zhuqing supported Fang Fan as they stood in the center of the training ground. She merely gave those faces, so arrogant before and so deferential now, a cold nod.

Ning Rongrong stood behind them, a gloating smile at the corner of her lips—

You were so arrogant just now. Now you know better, don't you?

Yu Tianheng stood at the edge of the crowd, his brows drawing tighter and tighter.

It was not that he refused to accept it—

he knew he could not defeat Dugu Yan in a single move.

But the way Dugu Yan looked at Fang Fan made his chest feel stifled. Beyond awe, there was something else in her eyes.

He was a direct descendant of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan and the captain of the Imperial Fighting Team. Over the years, he had received endless admiration and had long grown accustomed to standing at the very center of the team, at the focus of everyone's attention.

Yet this newly arrived drunkard had taken all of that away with a single sword strike.

He did not want to hand over the captain's position.

"Let's have a match."

Yu Tianheng stepped in front of Fang Fan, his voice low and serious, with no mockery in his expression.

There was no provocation, only the stubbornness and fighting spirit of someone unwilling to stand beneath another.