The battles continued one after another, with constantly changing lights and music in the venue, completely separating the sports arena into two distinct worlds – one peaceful and ordinary, the other passionate and boisterous. After the semifinals were determined, the battle for the top four began seamlessly.
Teng Yi took the stage again. As he stood up, he stirred a breeze that carried the concerning scent of Yunnan Baiyao. Ruan Yu watched his retreating figure with furrowed brows. After walking a few steps, he suddenly turned back and flashed her a smile – one filled with complete confidence and reassuring composure. Ruan Yu’s brow immediately relaxed. He would win. He definitely would.
After an intense round of dancing between the four competitors and one elimination round, only Teng Yi and Bi Chengjie remained to compete for the championship. When strong faces were strong, sparks flew across the stage.
In every previous round, Teng Yi had performed with ease, always giving the impression that he still held cards up his sleeve. Now, in these final moments, he showed his all-out effort, executing difficult Powermoves one after another. There were so many explosive moments that if not handled well, it could have seemed reckless like Nino’s performance. Yet even though Teng Yi was clearly showing off his skills, he executed them like perfectly placed moves in a well-planned chess game.
The countless days and nights in the practice room and years of dedication had transformed his body into a treasure chest of power that seemed bottomless. Everyone was mesmerized by his dance; he had turned street dance into a dazzling art form.
Ruan Yu’s heart was tied to Teng Yi’s every move – each ground touch, and each jump created ripples in her heart. When he began his headspins, her blood rushed to her head as if she were the one performing those intense moves on the ground.
“That’s dangerous,” she gasped softly.
“No worries, my brother’s technique is rock solid,” Teng Hao said proudly.
Xiao Qing turned to look at Teng Hao: “Kid, why such suggestive talk? How would you know about your brother’s technique?”
Ruan Yu: “…”
Teng Hao: “…”
The audience was completely fired up. Fang Wan, who had been sitting cross-legged on the ground, was now half-kneeling, excitedly shouting Teng Yi’s name.
Facing such a formidable opponent, Bi Chengjie naturally felt immense pressure. He tried to maintain his composure, but his stamina betrayed him first. At this moment, he fully tasted the consequences of neglecting practice.
Time is fair to everyone – whether one puts in the effort or not, how much one dedicates themselves, the results don’t lie. With fuzzy consciousness and diminishing strength, Bi Chengjie’s moves became increasingly repetitive, and he even directly copied moves from previous dancers.
The street dance community is both large and small – large because there are so many styles and schools, but small because everyone knows who the leaders are in each style and which moves are original to whom. For dancers, innovation is true strength – copying others’ moves, no matter how well executed, can never make you top-tier.
The audience began to murmur. The outcome seemed decided at this moment.
Having finished his performance, Teng Yi remained quiet. He could have easily exposed Bi Chengjie’s shortcomings with street dance gestures, taunting him as Da Hua had done. But Teng Yi didn’t – he gave Bi Chengjie adequate space and respect.