Elder Mangkubumi and Ratnasari stared at Rengga in disbelief. The information carried by the thirty-year-old man struck their minds like a hammer blow. It was news so heavy, so devastating, that neither of them had ever imagined they would hear it. “Are you not jesting with me?” Ratnasari’s voice trembled, still hoping that what she had just heard from Rengga was nothing but a mistake, a terrible misunderstanding. “Do you think I would ever lie about death?” Rengga answered her with a solemn question of his own. His tone was firm, leaving no room for doubt. Crystal-like tears began to well up at the corners of Ratnasari’s beautiful eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she could not restrain the wave of sorrow rising within her chest. Although she had never been particularly close to King Dharmalaksana, the ruler of the Sastrajingga Kingdom was still her father-in-law, a man she had long regarded as a father figure in her life. Her heart trembled even more when she imagined how sha

Elder Mangkubumi drew in a long, weary breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly. He repeated this several times, as though trying to summon every ounce of courage within himself. The burden he carried was not a light one—he had to deliver a truth so heavy that it could shatter the heart of the young man before him. Only when he felt his chest steady did he finally begin to speak to Arya.“On the journey back to the royal palace of Sastrajingga,” Elder Mangkubumi said with a grave tone, “His Majesty’s entourage was ambushed by practitioners of the dark arts.”“What?” Arya’s eyes widened in utter disbelief. His voice trembled, carrying both shock and anger. “That cannot be! Wasn’t the route to and from the palace already secured and guarded?”“That is true,” Mangkubumi replied calmly, though his heart was restless. “But for reasons still unknown, the royal procession came under attack from the Sect of the Corrupted Skull. That is something we m

“Bastard! Attack him!” shouted the middle-aged man, his voice sharp as a whip as he barked the order.arya clicked his tongue softly and shook his head with a faint, almost contemptuous movement. “Don’t blame me for wasting what little time you have left. None of you will survive this night.” His words were cold, delivered with a calm that made the air itself seem to freeze.No sooner had he spoken than arya’s body seemed to vanish. The lightening technique he used made his motion so swift and weightless that the eyes of the sect members could no longer follow him. One by one, the followers of the sekte Kala Hitam collapsed without any apparent cause, dropping to the ground like cut stalks. Bodies thudded against the stone floor, the sounds harsh and final.“Watch out! We’re being hit from behind — quickly, circle up!” one of them yelled, panic threading his voice.Aaaakh! Aaaaakh!Despite their frantic efforts to turn and cover

To help readers better imagine the hierarchy of martial warriors, here is a simplified sequence of their cultivation levels: 1. Basic Warrior – initial, intermediate, and advanced stages. 2. Warrior of the First Contest – initial, intermediate, and advanced stages. 3. Warrior of the Chosen Contest – initial, intermediate, and advanced stages. 4. Peerless Warrior – initial, intermediate, and advanced stages. 5. Earthly Warrior – initial, intermediate, and advanced stages. 6. Heavenly Warrior – initial, intermediate, and advanced stages. 7. Divine Warrior / Demonic Warrior. --- The old man staggered back two steps when he finally saw what was inside the bundle— it was the severed head of Joyosumarno, the leader of the Black Sect. “Could it be… was he the one who did this?” Sakuntala muttered, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her gaze shifted outside toward the street, yet Arya was no longer in sight. “He said the Black Sect wasn’t worthy of his training. That means he must be

“You won’t get away, scoundrel! There is no escape from death for you!” a man hissed, brandishing his sword threateningly.“Let’s carve him up alive!” another shouted, the cry sharp in the open air.Arya grinned, a slow, cruel smile that spread across his face as he watched the fury burning in the eyes of those who had hemmed him in. Every last wave of power that rolled through him seemed only to sharpen his calm; the steadiness of his breathing, the precise measuring of every muscle — all of it made him more dangerous, not less. “Don’t you know who you’re facing?” he said, voice cool as ice. “You are standing before the god of death.”That cold composure unnerved the encircling fighters more than any boast could. Though their minds were a forge of hot, violent emotion, none of them dared make the first move. They had seen, with their own eyes, how easily the young swordsman had slaughtered ten men in less time than it should take to draw breath. That sight alone had planted seeds of