C7 A Pastry Cart

News of the impending spar spread through the Flowing Silver Sect not like wildfire, but like a tsunami. Whispers became shouts, shouts became a cacophony of speculation. By the time the sun had fully cleared the horizon, the vast central training grounds were packed to the brim with disciples of every rank. Outer sect members jostled for a view from the periphery, inner sect disciples claimed the better spots, and a palpable current of excitement crackled in the Qi-rich air.

The center of the grounds was a circle of packed earth, smoothed by countless battles and reinforced by ancient formations. On a high viewing platform overlooking the arena sat Sect Leader Zhang and his council of elders. Elder Zhu fidgeted nervously, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing. Beside him, Elder Mo stood like a statue of judgment, his arms crossed, his cold eyes scanning the crowd below, a faint, skeptical smirk playing on his lips. This was to be a very public verdict.

The buzz of the crowd reached a fever pitch when Bai Chen arrived. He walked with the confident stride of a prodigy, his core formation aura a visible, pulsing energy that commanded respect. He took his place in the center of the ring, closing his eyes to meditate, centering his Qi for the coming test.

The buzz died abruptly when Aarav arrived.

He ambled into the arena a few minutes later, looking distinctly out of place. He was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt, the only clothes he had. The sect had offered him robes, but he'd found them complicated and drafty. His modern attire against the ancient, martial backdrop was as jarring as a smartphone at a medieval joust. He scratched his head, stifled another yawn, and squinted against the morning sun.

The thousands of disciples stared. This was the peerless expert? He looked like a lost traveler who had wandered onto a movie set.

Aarav walked up to Bai Chen, who opened his eyes, a flash of irritation in them. This… sloppiness was an insult.

"So," Aarav said, breaking the tense silence. "What's the drill? Do we, like, take turns? Do I need a weapon?" He gestured over his shoulder to the simple wooden bow slung across his back.

Bai Chen's last shred of doubt vanished. This was no expert. This was a fool. He rose to his feet, his voice crisp and loud, meant for the entire audience to hear. "I require no weapon, Senior! Your guidance is the only weapon I seek! Please, enlighten me!"

The politeness was a thin veneer over seething contempt. Before Aarav could even process the overly formal words, Bai Chen decided there would be no "ready, set, go." There would only be a demonstration of true power.

He took a deep breath, and the air around him seemed to warp. Qi surged from his core, flowing down his right arm. His index and middle fingers glowed with an intense, concentrated blue light, humming with destructive power. This was his signature technique, the one that had earned him his reputation: [Focused River Piercing Finger]! A beam of pure, penetrating force that could drill through a meter of solid spirit stone!

"ENLIGHTEN ME!" Bai Chen roared, and thrust his fingers forward.

A brilliant, shrieking beam of blue energy, thin as a needle but blindingly bright, lanced across the arena. It moved faster than the eye could follow, aimed with lethal precision at the center of Aarav's chest. The crowd gasped as one. This wasn't a spar; this was an execution!

The beam hit.

There was no cataclysmic explosion. No shower of sparks. No epic struggle.

There was a soft fizzle.

The brilliant, shrieking beam of energy simply… vanished. It ceased to exist the moment it touched the fabric of Aarav's t-shirt. A faint, golden hexagonal pattern shimmered across his chest for a fraction of a second, like a stone causing a ripple on the surface of a pond, and then it was gone.

The only physical effect was a slight push. The pure kinetic force of the impact, divorced from its spiritual energy, made Aarav stumble back a half-step, more out of surprise than anything else.

He looked down at his chest, then back up at Bai Chen, his expression one of mild annoyance.

"Whoa, okay," Aarav said, brushing the spot where the beam had hit. "A bit rude. No 'ready, set, go'? Just blasting away?" He patted his chest. "That it? Felt like a strong poke. You sure you're putting your back into it?"

The silence that followed was absolute. It was heavier and more profound than any noise. It was the sound of a thousand cultivators having their understanding of reality shattered.

Bai Chen stood frozen. His outstretched arm trembled. The color drained from his face so completely he looked like a ghost. His mind, his proud, brilliant core formation mind, could not compute what had just happened.

He had poured his entire cultivation base into that strike. It was a technique that could kill a spirit beast ten times his size. It had simply… fizzled. Like a drop of water hitting a hot pan and evaporating. He stared at his fingers, then at the completely unfazed Aarav, and a tremor of primal terror wracked his body.

On the high platform, the reaction was just as seismic.

Elder Mo's smug, skeptical smirk had vaporized. His jaw hung open, his eyes bulged. The crossed arms fell limp to his sides. He looked like a man who had just seen the sky turn green. "Im… impossible…" he whispered, the sound lost in the vast silence.

Sect Leader Zhang's composure cracked. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were wide with sheer, unadulterated shock. The calm mask melted away, replaced by the dawning, terrifying realization of a catastrophic miscalculation. This was no trick. This was no artifact. This was power on a level he could not even fathom. He had not been testing an impostor; he had been insulting a dragon.

Elder Zhu finally let out the breath he had been holding for a full minute. It came out as a shuddering gasp of relief. That relief instantly curdled into pure, unadulterated panic. He whirled on the Sect Leader, his face pale with fury and fear.

"Sect Leader!" he hissed, his voice trembling with emotion. "You see?! You see now?! You have tested him! You have attacked an esteemed guest! An expert who has shown us nothing but passive indifference! He has done us no harm, and we responded by shooting him with a technique that could level a mountain! What if he is angered?! What if he decides that our 'humble sect' is not worth his patience?!"

The full, horrifying weight of the situation crashed down upon Sect Leader Zhang. His blood ran cold. He wasn't just looking at a powerful expert. He was looking at a being who could, with a casual thought, erase the Flowing Silver Sect from existence. And he, the Sect Leader, had just poked him with a stick.

Down in the arena, Aarav looked around at the dead-silent, petrified crowd. He sighed.

"So… is that the end of the spar?" he asked, his voice echoing in the stillness. "Because if it is, I think I saw a pastry cart on the way over here."