Legend of the Divine Archer

"Potential, yes," the companion replied, his voice gruff. "But it's Yan Bai who has the experience. The Ice Dragon is nothing to scoff at, and he's already proven himself in battle."

Another spectator, a woman draped in the colors of Pine City, leaned in and added her thoughts. "It's not just about potential or experience—it's about willpower. Both of them have something to prove. But I wouldn't be surprised if we see them facing each other in the later rounds. Two scions of powerful bloodlines… it's bound to be a clash."

Further along in the crowd, a group of older warriors discussed the upcoming trials in hushed tones.

"Wei Xi's still a boy," one grizzled veteran said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But that bloodline… the Imperial Storm Wyvern hasn't been seen in these parts for generations. The power it holds… if he can tap into it fully, he might just surprise everyone."

The man next to him nodded in agreement but added cautiously, "Yan Bai, though… He's already shown he's no ordinary fighter. Calm, collected, and deadly. He's the embodiment of the Ice Dragon—cold and calculated. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his spear, that's for sure."

As the discussions buzzed through the arena, both Wei Xi and Yan Bai stood before the maelstrom, seemingly unfazed by the pressure of the ancient aura. For a moment, their eyes met, and though neither spoke, there was an unspoken understanding between them.

As the shadow materialized next to Wei Xi and Yan Bai, their instincts kicked in immediately. Without hesitation, both boys lashed out with powerful punches, their fists moving with a force honed through countless hours of training. But the figure in the dark was quicker than they anticipated. The figure dodged gracefully, twisting mid-air with an almost supernatural flexibility.

She landed with cat-like poise just beyond their reach, her movements as fluid as water. A playful smirk danced on her lips as she looked back at them. "I'll be going first, boys," she teased, her voice light and teasing. Before either of them could react, the figure sprang forward, diving headfirst into the swirling maelstrom.

It was Meng Xiao, niece of Purple Spear Meng, and the owner of the Royal Steel Eagle bloodline. Her reputation as an agile and cunning fighter was well known, and she had just proven that her abilities were not to be underestimated. The boys, not to be outdone, exchanged a quick glance of determination.

In a synchronized movement, both Wei Xi and Yan Bai launched themselves into the maelstrom after her, their competitive spirits ignited.

The crowd erupted into cheers at the boldness of Meng Xiao's move and the immediate pursuit of the two boys. The atmosphere was electric as the trio set the tone for the rest of the participants. Those who had been lingering on the edges of the arena, hesitating under the crushing weight of the ancient aura, suddenly found themselves galvanized by the sight.

With renewed courage, participants began bracing themselves against the oppressive energy and leaped into the maelstrom one by one.

The arena filled with a cacophony of movement and noise, warriors from every corner of the land throwing themselves into the challenge, determined to prove their worth. The spectators were on the edge of their seats, watching in awe as the future champions of Pine City pushed their limits.

Meanwhile, high above the arena, Purple Spear Meng and the City Lord remained as still as statues, observing the chaos below with keen eyes. They were not watching for the majority of the participants—they knew that only a handful would make it through the trials. Their focus was on the true powerhouses.

Purple Spear Meng broke the silence between them, his voice low but filled with curiosity. "Do you think he will come?"

The City Lord, standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest, didn't need to ask who Meng was referring to. His thoughts had been on the same person. He nodded slightly, his gaze scanning the arena as if searching for a familiar presence hidden in the shadows. "He's probably already here," he replied, his tone calm and confident. "That kid is too cautious.

He's likely observing everything before making a move."

The "kid" in question was none other than Yan Jin. Though he had not yet made an appearance, both Meng and the City Lord knew that Yan Jin wasn't the type to rush into anything without calculating every possible outcome. He was a strategist through and through, and if he had decided to participate in the trials, he would do so on his own terms.

The City Lord nodded but remained silent, his thoughts elsewhere.

Down below, the maelstrom continued to churn, swallowing participants whole as they battled against its overwhelming pressure. For those brave enough to survive its pull, the real challenge had yet to begin.

--

Despite the shared excitement in the arena, only 800 out of the original 5,000 participants had managed to survive the oppressive weight of the ancient aura and reach the maelstrom. The others were still struggling to move, their bodies trembling under the suffocating force. The anticipation in the air was thick, and it was clear that not everyone would make it past this initial trial.

Then, from the shadows of the arena's stairway, Yan Jin finally made his move.

He descended the steps slowly, his presence commanding attention without any need for theatrics. Dressed in a dark robe that fluttered slightly with each step, Yan Jin's figure was both elegant and imposing. His long black hair was tied up with a golden hairpin that gleamed faintly in the sunlight, while a golden bandage covered his eyes, giving him the appearance of a blind tyrant.

Strapped to his back was a long black bow, nearly as tall as his own body, its dark surface absorbing the light around it. In his hand, he held a simple bamboo stick, tapping it against the ground as he advanced toward the center of the arena.

Each tap of the stick echoed in the otherwise chaotic arena, reverberating through the stone, drawing the attention of both participants and spectators alike. The noise was hypnotic, almost rhythmic, and as the sound spread, it seemed to create a momentary pause in the action around him.

All eyes turned toward the figure of Yan Jin, whose deliberate steps seemed to carry with them the weight of inevitability.

"It's him!" Nie Li spat, his voice filled with venom. As if responding to his anger, the lion he stood upon roared furiously, its golden mane flaring as its eyes locked onto Yan Jin with barely-contained rage.

Sensing the intensity of Nie Li's gaze, Yan Jin lifted his head slightly, despite the golden bandage that covered his eyes. He smiled—a small, mocking curl of his lips—as if daring Nie Li to make a move. The crowd watched with bated breath as the tension between the two men became palpable, the rivalry that had been simmering for months now on the verge of boiling over.

And then, in one smooth, effortless motion, Yan Jin raised his hand and extended his middle finger in Nie Li's direction. The gesture was as casual as it was insulting, and a ripple of gasps and murmurs spread through the arena. Nie Li's face twisted into a mask of fury, his lion snarling louder in response, but before anything could be done, Yan Jin turned his back on him.

Without a second thought, Yan Jin leaped into the swirling maelstrom, vanishing into its depths with a grace that belied the danger of the task at hand. The arena fell silent for a heartbeat, and then the noise resumed, louder and more frenzied than before.

The trials had truly begun, and Yan Jin had just made his entrance.