Feeling enraged by Arga’s challenge, Ningrat Penjalu, also known as the Second Leader, turned to Rekso Atmoko for permission.“I will teach him a lesson he will never forget,” Ningrat said, his voice steady but full of menace.“Just kill him. Don’t leave him alive. I’m certain he intends to disgrace this sect,” Rekso replied sharply.Ningrat nodded in acknowledgment. Without wasting another moment, he sprang into the air. His body seemed almost weightless, moving so gracefully that he passed over dozens of spectators as if they weren’t even there.Arga’s gaze followed him intently, sharp and calculating. He couldn’t help but admire the Second Leader’s mastery of body-lightening techniques.Ningrat landed silently in the center of the arena. Not a single leaf rustled beneath his feet—proof that he had reached near-perfect mastery of his art.“I must admit,” Ningrat said, his voice chilling as it sliced through the tense air, “you are a lower-tier warrior bold enough to challenge me. Th

Ningrat Penjalu gave a bitter smile. For years, he had lived comfortably within the Golden Step Sect, basking in his own power and pride. But now everything he’d built was crumbling—destroyed by the very arrogance he had nurtured.“You’re truly remarkable,” he said, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to gather his remaining strength. “Even a warrior of my level couldn’t resist your power. Tell me, young man—who is your master?”Ningrat hoped to distract Arga, to buy a few seconds to recover and heal his wounds. The man possessed the ability to mend his injuries through internal energy, but Arga wasn’t one for small talk. He only spoke when necessary.Instead of answering, Arga dashed forward like lightning.Ningrat’s eyes widened in disbelief—Arga had seen through his plan.“You think I’m a fool?” Arga growled, swinging his sword down toward Ningrat’s already wounded arm.Cras!The arm was severed cleanly and fell to the ground with a dull thud. Ningrat screamed, his voice echoi

Arga turned his head toward the door as a smooth, fair leg stepped inside. His heart skipped a beat when Kirana came toward him, wearing nothing but a sheer, translucent garment that barely covered her body.He swallowed hard. It was the first time he had ever seen the delicate figure of a young woman, almost completely bare. Two prominent shapes pressed against the thin white fabric, clearly outlined.Embarrassed, Arga quickly averted his gaze when Kirana caught his eyes staring. Somehow, he felt awkward in this intimate moment. "Why... why did you take off your clothes?" he asked, voice barely steady.Kirana stopped right behind Arga’s bare back, her pulses racing wildly. It was the first time she saw a muscular man standing naked before her. "Didn’t you say before that if I want to serve you, I must obey all your wishes?" Kirana replied boldly, her voice soft but determined.Inside the room, Arga found himself speechless. His chest rose and fell as he inhaled her fragrant hair scen

Kirana helped Arga into his clothes.Her hands moved quickly but gently. The simple act of dressing him felt intimate; for the first time that night the young man allowed himself a small, guarded comfort from her presence.“Stay here, no matter what happens. Don’t leave this room,” Arga ordered in a low voice.Kirana nodded without hesitation.“Do not regret the choice you made. Tonight—your sect will be destroyed,” he added, voice cold and steady.Kirana said nothing. She had no words that could change the course of what they were about to do. Yet inside she felt certain that following Arga was right. She knew, with the sick clarity of one who has seen too much cruelty, what her adoptive father had done to him.Arga opened the window and let the night air sweep inside. He drew his veil across his face and secured the Blood Sword onto his back. Clad entirely in black, he seemed less a man and more a shadow that had learned how to move.The Red Frog Sect was unusually quiet that night.

Kirana smiled as Arga’s arms wrapped around her. Although she knew he did not love her, the steady pressure of his embrace warmed a corner of her heart. For a brief moment she allowed herself the small luxury of feeling wanted—if only in the fragile privacy of a dim room far from the sect’s prying eyes.Yet the mood turned slightly awkward when she became aware of something pulsing beneath her. A thin, foreign pressure pressed against her hip: Arga’s staff—an instrument of power that, for reasons she did not fully understand, had stirred to life at the touch of her body.“Now I will tell you about my father,” Kirana said softly, steadying herself and letting the memory shape her words. “The Twin War Maces are an heirloom passed down through the Atmoko family for generations. For over forty years they have been the signature weapons of past sect leaders. Because of their reputation, many leaders preferred to avoid provoking other sects—these maces are coveted relics, and so they kept t