The air at the base of the Dragon's Spire was thick with distrust. The three proudest disciples of their generation stared at one another, the unspoken proposal hanging between them like a guillotine. It was Gui Ren, the pragmatist of the Black Tortoise Clan, who finally gave it voice.
"A temporary alliance," he stated, his voice flat but carrying to every ear. "We attack the Wyvern together. Its body and any lesser treasures in the nest are divided equally amongst the three clans. The one who lands the killing blow claims the Golden Dragon's Vein Token."
Hu Jin spat on the ground, but he didn't refuse. "Fine. But if I see any of you holding back, I'll deal with you myself after the beast is dead."
Jian Liwei, his face a mask of arrogance hiding his own apprehension, gave a stiff nod. "My Azure Dragon Clan does not fear a direct battle. Let us begin."
The alliance was forged not on trust, but on a foundation of mutual greed and pride. It was destined to be unstable.
With a collective roar, the assault began. The battle was a text-book display of their respective clan's philosophies. Gui Ren and his disciples formed the vanguard, their interlocking tortoise-shell formations creating an unbreachable wall of earthen Qi that absorbed the Wyvern's initial dive-bombing attacks. They were the anvil, enduring the beast's fury.
The Raging Tiger Clan, led by Hu Jin, was the hammer. They flanked the Wyvern, their movements explosive and ferocious, launching fiery claws and roaring fists that tore at the beast's steely hide, leaving scorched, gouged marks.
Jian Liwei and the Azure Dragon disciples played the role of the patient serpent. They harried the Wyvern's wings with precise sword qi and used their wood-element arts to conjure entangling vines, attempting to ground the powerful creature while healers cast soothing water-element spells on their allies' minor wounds.
From his hidden perch, Jian Feng watched the magnificent, chaotic battle unfold below. He was not admiring their power. He was dissecting it. With his Star-Chart, he saw every strained meridian, every inefficient use of Qi, every opening created by a moment of pride. The battle was a massive data stream, and he was processing it all.
The Wind-Winged Wyvern was a terrifying foe. Its screeches sent sonic waves that cracked the very stones, and a single slash from its wing talons could sever a tree. The alliance, despite its power, was being pushed back. Disciples were being thrown aside, their defensive artifacts shattering. The mistrust between the three leaders was palpable, each one holding back their strongest techniques, waiting for the others to wear the beast down so they could swoop in and claim the final blow.
Jian Feng's gaze, however, was fixed on the Wyvern's Qi flow. He noted its patterns, its rhythms, and the way it gathered energy. He saw that after a series of powerful attacks, it would need to draw in a massive amount of wind-element Qi to its throat pouch to prepare its ultimate attack: the Tempest Breath. During that brief, two-second charging period, its focus would be absolute, but its external defenses would be momentarily weakened.
His eyes then drifted to the nest itself. It was a chaotic mess of bones and broken trees, but it rested on an unstable ledge. His Star-Chart highlighted a single, load-bearing rock at the base of the nest—a keystone. If that keystone were to be displaced, the entire structure would collapse.
After a grueling twenty minutes, the moment he was waiting for arrived. The Wyvern, now heavily wounded and thoroughly enraged, let out a piercing shriek. It threw the last of the Black Tortoise disciples off its body and its throat began to glow with a blinding, blue-white light.
"It's using its ultimate attack!" Gui Ren yelled, his defensive barrier glowing at maximum power. "Brace for impact!"
The disciples below prepared for the storm. High above, Jian Feng acted.
He didn't target the Wyvern. He didn't target the disciples. From his sleeve, a single, nearly invisible needle of pure Origin Qi shot across the chasm. It was silent, efficient, and carried with it the full, detached intentionality of its master. It struck the keystone rock in the Wyvern's nest.
Crack.
It was a sound no one heard amidst the raging winds. The keystone fractured. The delicate balance of the nest was broken. An avalanche of heavy rocks and massive bones cascaded down from the ledge. It didn't fall on the disciples. It fell directly onto the head and neck of the Wyvern at the precise, critical moment it was about to unleash its Tempest Breath.
The blow was not powerful enough to kill it, but it was enough to shatter its concentration. The volatile, compressed wind energy in its throat, no longer properly controlled, backfired. The Wyvern's chest imploded with a sickening, wet crunch. Its blindingly bright ultimate attack was snuffed out like a candle. It gave a choked, gurgling cry, its eyes wide with shock, before its massive body plummeted from the sky, crashing lifelessly onto the ground below.
Silence.
The disciples, who had been braced for annihilation, stared at the dead beast in stunned disbelief. It was over. But… how? Who had landed the killing blow? It seemed to have… killed itself?
Before anyone could process the impossible event, a slender figure in azure robes gracefully dropped from the cliff face above, his descent slowed by a gentle current of Qi. He landed silently beside the Wyvern's colossal head.
It was Jian Feng.
He ignored the dozens of shocked, exhausted, and wounded disciples. He paid no mind to the furious and confused glares of Hu Jin, Gui Ren, and his own cousin, Jian Liwei. He simply walked past them all, his expression calm, and approached the precipice where the nest had been. He reached down into the rubble and retrieved the prize.
He turned to face them, holding the Golden Dragon's Vein Token casually between two fingers. It glowed with a light that seemed to mock the epic battle they had just endured. His aura was still suppressed, projecting the weakness of a mid-tier disciple. But his eyes, cold and placid as a winter lake, held the indisputable authority of a grandmaster who had just checkmated the entire board.
He had won the war without fighting a single battle. And his opponents, the proudest geniuses of their generation, were only now beginning to realize that they had never even been playing the same game.