Chapter 108 When The Self Becomes The Greatest Enemy
Chapter 108 When The Self Becomes The Greatest Enemy
Chapter 108: Chapter 108 When The Self Becomes The Greatest Enemy
The Battleground of the Self was still full of clashing weapons and exploding spiritual energy.
Even after the ten youngsters of the Lin Clan had left, the ancient battlefield showed no sign of quieting down. Hundreds of cultivators were scattered across the vast expanse, each locked in a fight against someone with their exact abilities. Some used swords. Others used fists, spears, sabers, or strange techniques of their own.
From a distance, it looked almost absurd. Everywhere you looked, identical figures were trying to kill each other.
For most of them, winning was turning out to be much harder than they had expected.
BOOM!
Mo Chen’s palm met his reflection’s hand, and a wave of dark energy swept across the ground. Both of them were thrown back.
He landed on a broken stone slab, breathing a little faster than before. The reflection across from him looked as calm as it had at the start, and that irritated him more than he wanted to admit.
He had already tried attacking head-on, changing his rhythm, using feints, even dropping some of his favorite techniques. Every time he thought he’d found an opening, the reflection closed it.
’It’s not reading my mind,’ he thought. ’It just knows how I fight.’
That was worse. In every fight he’d had before, there had been something to exploit, like a moment of hesitation or a gap in the defense. But this opponent had his knowledge and his experience, and none of the habits he carried into battle.
Dark energy gathered around his palm again.
"Let’s see how long you can keep this up."
He shot forward, and the reflection met him halfway. Dust billowed across the battleground, and neither side gained anything.
Not far away, Feng Yuling’s sword swept through the air, leaving a trail of bright light. Her reflection parried and countered in the same breath.
CLANG!
The impact rang up her arm and she slid backward, her boots scraping the stone. Strands of hair clung to her damp forehead.
She had tried speed first, then a chain of consecutive techniques. Neither had worked.
’How do I beat someone who can do everything I can?’
She had spent years polishing her swordsmanship, convinced that mastery would see her through almost any fight. Now she wondered whether it had also made her predictable.
She didn’t get to think about it for long. Her reflection rushed forward, and she raised her sword.
CLANG!
If she wanted the answer, she would have to find it while fighting.
Shi Tianba’s fist slammed into his reflection’s forearm, cracking the ground beneath them. He followed with a sweeping kick, but the reflection dodged it and hit him across the chest.
He stumbled back and spat out a mouthful of blood.
"Damn it."
He had always liked straightforward fights. Use your strength, keep pressing, and force the other person into a corner. It had worked every time before. But the reflection knew every part of that plan, and whenever he pushed harder, it pushed back just as hard.
He rolled his shoulders. Exhaustion was beginning to settle into his muscles, and he had no intention of being eliminated from the third trial. Not after surviving the previous two.
So he stopped swinging blindly and started watching. He studied the timing of his reflection’s movements, how it reacted when he changed direction, and the moments when he instinctively fell back on familiar attacks.
Then his next punch stopped halfway.
The reflection reacted to the follow-through that never came. Shi Tianba shifted his body and struck from a different angle.
BOOM!
The reflection staggered.
His eyes widened. It was the first real opening he’d made. He didn’t waste it, and pressed forward with combinations the reflection had never seen from him.
A grin spread across his face.
"So that’s how it is."
He couldn’t beat himself by fighting harder. He had to fight differently.
Not everyone was adapting as quickly.
Across another part of the battleground, a young cultivator was starting to panic. His sword trembled in his hand. Opposite him stood an exact copy of himself, as cold and focused as he had been at the start of the trial.
His arms ached and his spiritual energy was running low. Every time he tried something, the reflection had an answer. He feinted, and it saw through the feint. He changed his angle, and it adjusted. He tried to retreat and put some distance between them, and it followed.
CLANG!
The reflection twisted its wrist and turned his force aside. Pain shot through his hand, and his sword nearly slipped from his grip.
"No..."
He had always believed his swordsmanship was one of his greatest strengths. He had survived the first trial. He had escaped the Maze of Ancient Illusions. Surely he could get through this too.
But he repeated the same patterns, and when his first few techniques failed, he just used them again with more force. He never noticed that his reflection was using none of his weaknesses against him.
"GET AWAY!"
He poured the last of his spiritual energy into one powerful sword technique. A brilliant arc of light swept across the battleground.
His reflection used the same technique.
BOOM!
When the dust settled, his sword was broken and his body was covered in wounds. The reflection advanced, and the final strike landed.
His eyes widened as his body dissolved into countless particles of light. A faint ripple appeared where he had stood, and then he was gone.
He had been eliminated.
Similar things happened across the battlefield. Some participants couldn’t adapt. Others wore themselves out launching attacks their reflections could easily counter. A few grew so frustrated that they charged in recklessly, and their opponents punished them for it.
Whenever someone took a fatal blow, the trial’s elimination mechanism triggered. Their bodies vanished from the battleground, sent back outside the Primordial Trial Ground. Only their reflections remained, standing where they had fought.
The others had no time to think about it. They were too busy trying to survive.
Long Aotian’s sword flashed through the air, and his reflection parried and countered with a thrust at his chest. He twisted sideways and let the blade pass close to his robes.
He understood now that strength and swordsmanship weren’t the problem. The problem was how much he relied on methods his opponent knew perfectly.
’If I keep fighting the way I always have, this will never end.’
He adjusted his grip and stepped forward. This time, he would have to go beyond the patterns he trusted most.
Yue Kun was starting to feel the strain as well. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his clothes were torn in several places. Every clash sent vibrations through his arms.
He thought about trying brute force, then remembered how many times that had already failed. His reflection was just as strong, and overpowering it would only wear him out.
"Fine," he muttered. "I’ll find another way."
He lowered his center of gravity and watched his opponent carefully.
Elsewhere, several other Forbidden successors were making progress. Some had started changing their attack patterns. Others were learning to spot the habits that made them predictable. A few had even gained the upper hand and were slowly pushing their reflections back.
But none of them could relax. A single mistake could turn the fight around, and the reflections never hesitated to take an opening.
Time passed. The sunlight above the battleground shifted slightly, and the early confidence of the participants was long gone. Weapons clashed with growing desperation as cultivators searched for a way to end fights that refused to end.
Then, without warning, the entire Battleground of the Self trembled.
The sound of clashing weapons faded as an ancient voice descended from above.
"Attention, participants."
Every surviving cultivator looked up, though many could barely straighten their backs.
"The allotted time for the third trial is approaching its end."
A heavy silence settled over the battleground.
"Only a short time remains."
For those who hadn’t yet defeated their reflections, the remaining time suddenly felt terrifyingly short. Their opponents stood in front of them, weapons raised, expressions unchanged.
The final struggle had begun.