Finally, the long-awaited day arrived. Arga packed his belongings with care and set out toward the grand fighting arena of the Red Frog Sect.When he reached the sect’s training grounds, thousands of visitors had already gathered, eager to watch their champions fight for honor and prestige. The air was thick with excitement, and the sound of voices blended into a constant roar that shook the ground.From every corner of the land, low-ranked warriors had come—not just to compete, but also to witness the spectacle of the legendary contest that only occurred once every five years. This event was more than a tournament; it was a festival where the strong rose to fame and the weak vanished into obscurity.For a brief moment, Arga chose to sit quietly in the audience seats, blending in with the restless crowd. From where he sat, he could see a special platform above the arena where the elders of the sect were already seated. These men were regarded as the most influential figures of the Red

Arga rose once more to stand on the wooden platform. The next match would pair him against a fighter from a lower-ranked Sect — the White Horse Sect. He had heard that name before, a modest Sect whose members rarely made headlines in the great tournaments. Still, Arga did not know the finer details of their techniques, and that lack of certainty sparked an ember of challenge inside him.A young man called Jinggo stepped forward, chest thrown out, posture proud. He was one of the White Horse Sect’s strongest seniors — a reputation that had earned him many bets and spectators’ attention. Jinggo’s eyes blazed as he paced the stage, every movement exaggerated for the crowd.“I prepared everything to meet one of the Golden Step champions,” he shouted, voice carrying over the arena. “I wanted to show I could trample those famed fighters underfoot — but damned if that weak Sect was crushed before I could even prove myself! Tonight I will use you as my outlet for that fury!” He spoke with the

Weling Ireng darted forward, his right hand brimming with intense inner energy. His signature technique—the Poison-Breathing Serpent Strike—was infamous for its lethal potency. Even a light graze could cause flesh to blister and burn away as if scorched by fire. A direct hit, however, meant certain death—an end so gruesome that few dared to imagine it.Just sensing the energy emanating from that attack made Arga’s instincts scream of danger. But he had prepared himself for this kind of confrontation. The inner strength he had cultivated through countless nights of relentless training flowed within him like molten steel. Though he was only at the Iron Body stage, his punches carried a force that could crush bone and shatter will.When Weling Ireng lunged, Arga sidestepped swiftly to the right. Suspended midair, he waved his hand several times—he could feel something faint but deadly drifting toward him. A poisonous mist had filled the air, spreading from Weling Ireng’s palms."Even his

The next morning, Arga slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Kirana Dewi, standing near the window, getting dressed.Because she hadn’t yet finished putting on her clothes, Arga accidentally caught sight of her bare figure, illuminated by the soft morning light. His face instantly flushed, and he quickly turned his head away, heart pounding wildly in his chest.“H-how are you here, in my room?” he asked, still avoiding her gaze.Kirana froze, startled. She hadn’t expected him to wake up while she was still dressing. In a fluster, she rushed to cover herself, fumbling with her clothes as her cheeks burned a deep red.“I’m sorry,” she said once she had dressed properly. “I… I just borrowed your bathroom. My clothes were soaked with your blood from last night’s wounds.”Arga sat up slowly, his body still aching but his mind growing clearer.“So it was you… the one who saved me last night,” he murmured, his eyes finding hers.Kirana smiled faintly.“No, it was you who saved m

After Arga’s victory in the battle against Aji from the Blood Bat Sect, the remaining participants were struck with fear.They all knew that Aji was the strongest among them—second only to Arga. Realizing that facing him meant certain death, the other contestants raised their hands in surrender.No one had expected this outcome. The audience, who had paid several silver tails to watch a grand spectacle, was deeply disappointed.To appease their frustration, the Grandmaster of the Golden Step Sect, Rekso Atmoko, ordered one of his ten senior masters to face Arga in the arena.The decision was met with protest from Kirana Dewi, but her father remained firm and allowed the Tenth Master to step down into the ring.“Wongso, do not bring shame upon our sect,” Rekso Atmoko warned solemnly.The middle-aged man named Wongso bowed respectfully. Without a word, he descended into the fighting ground. The crowd murmured in surprise when they saw a sect leader entering the arena himself.“I have co