King Wirabhumi, Rengga, and Indrajaya could hardly believe what they had just heard from Arya, the youngest son of King Dharmalaksana.“You mustn’t act recklessly,” Rengga warned, his tone filled with urgency. “That place is swarming with masters of the highest martial realms!”Indrajaya quickly added, “He’s right, Prince. Even if we intend to rescue Wiguna, we’ll need a meticulous plan first.”He walked over to a long wooden table, taking a piece of dried parchment and a quill before sitting back down. With sharp precision, he began sketching the layout of the Hell Sword Sect. His eyes would occasionally close as he strained to recall every detail of that dreadful place.“The sect is surrounded by tall, thick walls,” he explained, circling several points on the parchment. “There are watchtowers stationed on these positions—each constantly guarded.”Then his quill moved to the far end of the map. “The prison is located here, at the very rear. It’s the most heavily guarded area of the

Boom!A violent explosion ripped through the forest as a jet of black light struck an old teak tree by the roadside. The blast left behind a crater, and a dark mist rose from the scorched earth.Arga turned toward the source of the attack. Standing not far away, hands on his hips, was an elderly man in a tattered gray robe. One of the bandits who had survived Arga’s previous assault stumbled toward the old man, bowing low.“Master…” he gasped.“What is the meaning of this chaos?” the old man demanded, his tone sharp as a whip. “Why were you and that man fighting with such madness?”“Your disciple tried to rob a traveler on the road,” Arga replied coolly. “I merely gave him the punishment he deserved.”“Silence!” the old man barked, his glare snapping toward Arga. “I was not speaking to you, boy—I was speaking to my student!”Arga’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “What a tiresome old man,” he muttered, his words laced

The next morning, Arga pushed open the creaking door of the small hut. The cool air of dawn brushed against his face as he stepped outside. Dew hung from the leaves like pearls, glistening faintly in the pale sunlight. His boots sank slightly into the damp soil as he made his way toward the trees behind the hut.Through the shifting mist, he saw the carriage still hidden among the thickets—untouched and just as he had left it. He exhaled in relief.Moments later, Arimbi emerged from the hut, her long hair still damp, her robe fresh and neatly fastened. The dark hue that had once tainted her skin was gone, replaced by its usual gentle glow.“Arga…” she called softly, holding the Sacred Sword of Shang Widi in her hand.He turned slightly, waiting until she reached him.“What is it?” His tone was calm, almost distant.Arimbi’s cheeks flushed. “I wanted to thank you… for saving my life last night.”A faint smile crossed Arga’s lips. “There’s no need,” he said quietly, waving a hand as he

Sorry, the chapter “The Assault” should actually come after “The Journey Begins.”*****The news of Jaya Dipa’s death, along with his six disciples, spread swiftly through the halls of the Black Serpent Sect. Whispers filled every corner — who could have possibly slain those seven martial artists so brutally? In response to this shocking incident, the elders of the sect convened an urgent meeting. They feared that if such a tragedy were left unchecked, the same fate might soon befall their own disciples. After several days of investigation, three students from the Iron Body Realm came forward with a confession. They admitted to hiring one of their senior brothers, paying him a thousand taels of gold to rob a nobleman who was traveling through the region. “So, it was you who ordered them to rob that nobleman from the city? Are you out of your minds!?” roared one of the elders, Master Kalam, slamming his hand on the table. “If word of this reaches the officials of the Kingdom of Win

“Aaaarrrghhh!”Manik’s scream split the air, echoing with pain as Arga’s Blood Sword pierced clean through his arm. The burning agony was unbearable, and crimson blood streamed from the wound, glimmering in the dim light like molten rubies.Arga staggered to his feet, his throat searing with pain. Drawing upon the icy core within his spirit, he directed a surge of energy through his neck, soothing the fiery sting that clawed at his flesh.That was close… If not for Banu’s outburst of demonic energy, I’d be dead by now, he thought grimly.Raising his hand toward the sword still lodged in Manik’s arm, Arga summoned his shadow technique. The blade shuddered, then tore itself free, slicing through flesh before flying neatly back into his grasp.Manik roared in agony. Never before in his immortal life had he been wounded so grievously.“You cursed brat!” he bellowed. “I’ll tear your heart from your chest and feast on it raw!”In a blur, his figure vanished, surging toward Arga with inhuman