“Thud!”A jolt of danger ran straight through Darian Kaelthorn. He surged the energy of the Sacred Path of the Ancients through his body, coiling like a spring ready to snap back.“No matter who you are… today, you’ll die!”The words came slowly, deliberately, and sharply. Cold as ice, dripping with menace. Elira Frostveil’s face—beautiful enough to bring kingdoms to their knees—shifted through shock, disbelief, embarrassment, and fury. Every flicker of expression added weight to the threat behind them.“Thud!”Mystic Power, jade-green and fierce, coursed through her veins. Her right hand shot forward in a blinding palm strike, churning the seawater into a violent swirl. With her left hand, she grabbed the white battle dress floating nearby.When the waves finally settled, she stood wrapped in the flowing fabric, a vision of icy perfection. Her eyes, sharp as knives, locked onto the fleeing figure.“Yu Jiang Ancient Nerves! Yu Jiang War God Arms!”Her voice rang out, strained, cold, p

The summit of Central Peak went utterly still the moment Darian Kaelthorn spoke. Silence fell like a heavy curtain, pressing down on the tens of thousands of disciples gathered there. Even Dathric Valen, standing stiff behind him, felt a chill creep up his spine. Darian’s words… they were audacious. Almost insane.Three moves to defeat King Sereth?The idea was so absurd, so outrageously bold, that laughter exploded across the summit. Eyes that had once regarded him with curiosity now gleamed with mockery.“I thought he had a shot against Elyan… turns out he’s just a fool!” one disciple sneered.“Elyan isn’t weak, but compared to the Three Kings? He’s nothing,” another scoffed.“This is ridiculous. Even with tricks, how could he hope to touch King Sereth?”The laughter rolled like waves, drowning out every trace of awe Darian had earned earlier. And yet, through it all, his face stayed calm. A faint, almost teasing curve of a smile tugged at his lips.Serian Vaelcrest, normally unread

East Peak basked in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Jagged cliffs cast long, stretching shadows across the valley below, painting everything in sharp contrast. Darian Kaelthorn gave Dathric Valen and the others a small nod, then slipped into his modest room. The faint clink of his boots against the stone floor echoed down the corridor, each step deliberate, each step carrying purpose. Time was precious. He wanted to squeeze every last second out of the remaining hours to refine his cultivation.Outside, Dathric Valen lingered, his icy gaze tracking Darian’s retreating form. A flicker of something—helplessness? contemplation?—passed briefly across his usually unreadable face.“Why do I feel like even the shadow of this runner-up from the Battle of the Thousand Realms is about to vanish?” Dathric muttered to himself, voice low, almost a whisper.Crimsonlotus, Caelyra, Xyren Yul, and Selara Quineth couldn’t hold back their laughter. Dathric, the eternal ice sculpture, rarely showed e

“Vice Sect Leader of the Supreme Path of All Heavens?”The words hung in the air. Darian Kaelthorn froze. His companions did too. Eyes widened. Awe tingled in every glance toward the Black-and-White Saint Lord. Reverence. That kind of reserved for legends whispered late at night, when no one else could hear.The Supreme Path of All Heavens… a super sect of the Frostveil Dominion. Ancient. Colossal. A force carved over countless centuries. Its history alone could crush ordinary mortals under its weight. And yet, here stood its Vice Sect Leader. What kind of being could reach that? What talent, what cunning, what sheer ruthlessness…?On the high platform, the Black-and-White Saint Lord stood, hands clasped behind his back. His aura rippled outward like a tidal wave, brushing over the crowd, stirring hearts. New disciples, elders, even seasoned fighters—they all felt it. A tremor that brushed against the soul itself.“Another Newcomer Competition, huh?” His voice was calm, almost teasing

At the far edge of the battlefield, something new showed up.Twenty figures, all at once.They stood there like a dark tide rolling in, pressing against the edge of Darian Kaelthorn’s vision. Honestly, it didn’t feel like “people arriving” so much as… pressure arriving first, and then the bodies behind it.At the front of them was a man with a twisted expression.Cold. Ugly with hatred. The kind of face that clearly hadn’t forgiven anything—not even in his sleep.His eyes locked straight onto Darian Kaelthorn.Like he wanted to etch that name into his bones.Darian recognized him right away.Same guy from before.The one who shouted at him when he left Middle Peak after Darian defeated Serian Vaelcrest in just three moves. Back then, he was just noise in the background. Annoying, but forgettable.Now?Not so forgettable anymore.Maybe coincidence brought them here again, or maybe something more deliberate. Hard to tell.Behind him stood six others.Each one carried a heavy, suffocatin