Elder Guan Qi’s blood-red blade pulsed with an ancient, malevolent aura, its sharpened edge casting a faint glow across Su Ranyue’s rigid face. The air crackled under a fourth-tier master's fury, pressing down on the flagstones like falling granite. Su Ranyue, weaponless and exposed, braced herself, her World-Pillar physique humming with fresh vitality against the towering threat. From the viewing stands, Mo Qianshu’s stomach dropped faster than a lead anchor in a bottomless well. This was it. This was the moment his careful path to oblivion would shatter. Guan Qi wasn’t just powerful; he was *lethal*. He wasn’t a prodigy to be fluked; he was a seasoned executioner of the Azure Dragon Sect. Su Ranyue, with all her accidental power, stood no chance against such focused, murderous intent. The Nine-Yuan Annihilation Lightning was already probably gathering in the higher realms, polishing its celestial hammers just for him. He had to act. He had to intervene. But how? To display any obvious power, any clear act of defense, would instantly paint him as a cultivator of immense skill, an enemy of the Heavenly Dao. He couldn’t even twitch a muscle in her direction. He needed something *mundane*, something so thoroughly *unimpressive* that it would reinforce his image as a blithering, cowardly groundskeeper. Something that screamed 'frail, weak, and wholly incapable.' A thought, desperate and thoroughly repulsive, bloomed in his mind. *It had to be gross.* Elder Guan Qi let out a roar that vibrated the very foundations of the arena. “Prepare to face the wrath of the Azure Dragon!” He lunged, a blur of scarlet and gold, the heirloom steel whistling through the air, aimed squarely at Su Ranyue’s heart. The crowd collectively gasped, some turning away, unable to watch the brutal execution. At that precise, hair-thin moment, just as the tip of Guan Qi’s blade was mere inches from its target, a sound erupted from the stands. Not a roar, not a scream, but a wet, grating, explosively violent *ACHOOO!* It sounded less like a normal spasm and more like a small, damp beast being violently expelled from a cannon. It was followed by a ragged, wheezing cough, as if the sneezer had choked on his own spleen. Mo Qianshu, slumped in his seat, his face a picture of abject misery, clutched at his nose with one hand and waved the other limply in the air, his eyes squeezed shut in what appeared to be genuine discomfort. A tiny, almost imperceptible globule of… something… flew from his gaping mouth, propelled by the convulsion. It was so small, entirely translucent, that no one in the arena, not even the most perceptive Soul Manifestation cultivator, would have noticed it. It was just a speck of ordinary, disgusting spittle. Yet, within that unseen speck, woven with a precision that defied the very laws of reality, Mo Qianshu had hidden a sliver of his true power: a microscopic sword aura. An aura so sharp, so focused, that it could cleave reality itself. It wasn't meant to kill, merely to *disrupt*. The infinitesimal aura struck the very tip of Elder Guan Qi’s scarlet blade. There was no clang, no spark, no visible impact. Instead, the blade, a peerless artifact forged in ancient fires and imbued with serpentine essence, simply *ceased to be*. It didn't break, didn't shatter. It disintegrated. Not into shards, but into a fine, ethereal dust that dissipated into the air the instant it formed, as if it had never existed. Elder Guan Qi, mid-lunge, his arm extended for the killing blow, found his hand suddenly empty. The momentum of his strike, balanced for heavy steel, dragged him along with terrifying speed. His gaze, fixed on Su Ranyue, went blank for a fraction of a second before gravity asserted itself. His expression, contorted in fury moments before, twisted into pure shock as he tumbled down, unable to correct his balance. *THWACK!* The fearsome Guan Qi face-planted into the arena’s scorched dirt with a sound that was less ‘venerable patriarch’ and more ‘clumsy toddler.’ A puff of dust erupted around his head, his expensive robes billowing ridiculously. He lay there, stunned and mortified, a faint imprint of his nose in the packed earth, his dyed topknot askew. A stunned silence fell over the arena, even deeper than before. The crowd, which had braced for a gruesome death, now stared at the face-down patriarch and the unharmed Su Ranyue with raw bewilderment. What just happened? Where was the blade? Why was Elder Guan Qi doing… that? Feng Jiao, leaning over the balcony railing, scowled. “Honestly, Azure Dragon Sect,” she sniffed, fanning herself with a delicate hand. “Their grand elders can’t even hold their liquor, and their weapons are clearly factory rejects. What an embarrassing display! Buying cheap blades from the Night Market again, I suppose?” Her gaze briefly flickered to Mo Qianshu, still wiping his nose with his sleeve, looking thoroughly miserable. “And that groundskeeper… truly a man of exquisite bodily functions. Disgusting.” Mo Qianshu coughed again, a wet, rattling sound. *Perfect,* he thought, suppressing a shudder. *She thinks I'm a pathetic, sniveling weakling with a terrible cold. The Heavenly Dao will overlook this, surely. Nothing cool here. Just snot and failure.* Jian Wuchen, however, was already deep in thought. His eyes narrowed, not at the fallen elder, but at the spot where the blade had vanished. *A bodily spasm… that dissolved an ancient relic? No, it couldn't be ordinary illness. It must be… a form of the Dao of Mundane Concealment. A technique so profound, so subtle, that it appears as utter incompetence to the unenlightened. Mo Qianshu’s display… it was a perfectly executed counter-Dao, a deliberate act of… non-action.* He gave a slight, almost reverent nod towards Mo Qianshu, who was now vigorously blowing his nose into his sleeve. *Truly, the depths of this man are unfathomable.* Elder Guan Qi, finally scrambling to his feet, looked around wildly, his face flushed with humiliation and confusion. His blade! His precious Scarlet Serpent Edge, a family heirloom for generations, simply… gone! His gaze snapped to Su Ranyue, then to the empty air, then back to his now-empty hand. He could not comprehend it. It was impossible! The arena officials, however, had seen enough. Or rather, they had seen *nothing* but the terrifying, inexplicable outcome. First, Su Ranyue's diamond-hard plank, then her reflection of a blazing sword strike that carved a canyon, and now the instantaneous, silent vanishing of an elder's prized weapon, immediately followed by his face-first dive into the dirt. They didn't know *how* this girl was doing it, but they suspected one thing: she had an unseen guardian, and it was *angry*. Sweat beaded on their foreheads. The Grand Elder of the Azure Dragon Sect had been humiliated, and the girl was clearly untouchable. They had to act, and they had to act fast, to appease whatever terrifying force protected her. They couldn't afford a repeat performance, or worse, for the unseen guardian to turn its ire on them. One of the arena judges, a portly man named Elder Bo, his face chalky, hurried into the ring, tripping over his hem. He knelt before Su Ranyue, practically groveling. “Esteemed junior! Please, forgive this unworthy one for the transgressions of our tournament!” He fumbled frantically at his sash, pulling out a small, ornate scroll bound with a silken cord and stamped with a shimmering golden seal. “Your… your undeniable prowess has left us speechless! You are clearly destined for greater stages!” He pushed the scroll into Su Ranyue’s hand, his voice trembling. “This is a golden invitation! To the Continental Zenith Summit! The pinnacle of all tournaments! It begins in three months, in the Imperial City of Xialing! Only the truly peerless are invited, and… and your invisible guardian is certainly peerless!”

A Devastating Sneeze