“Kael Draven—seriously? That worthless trash actually dares to challenge Young Master. The man must want to die.”“Trash is trash. If he somehow beats Young Master, I’ll eat my words. Hell, I’ll eat worse.”Laughter and jeers ricocheted around the court. Magnus Veyne smiled like a knife—cold, sharp. “Last ten moves in my hands,” he said, “and I’ll admit defeat. Survive ten strikes and I’ll call it my loss.”“Ten moves?” someone snorted.Kael Draven shrugged, calm as a pool. Then, under every puzzled eye, he said quietly, without drama: “Nine. I’ll have you kissing the ground inside nine.”A ripple ran through the crowd—surprise, then a snort, then outright laughter. You could feel the disbelief like static.“Fine,” Magnus Veyne snarled. “Kael Draven, I’ll watch you try. Beat me in nine, if you can.” The contempt in the words was thick; the kind that makes your hands ball into fists.Magnus Veyne moved next—fast and precise, like a viper striking. Tenth-Layer Inner Strength pushed out

The road stretched on, endless and dusty. Kael Draven drew deeply on the power Eldric had refined within the Blood Pool. With every step, it seeped into him, flooding him with strength. Faster. Stronger. It felt almost… unnatural.One Innate Beast Pill. That was all it took.And yet. It wasn’t enough.Even for a body like his—the Boundless Wasteland Saint Body, a cultivation realm without end—one pill had carried him to the very peak of the Ninth Layer of Inner Strength. But the Tenth Layer? That remained stubbornly out of reach. A single pill wouldn’t close the gap.Kael Draven let out a faint sigh. His cultivation body was a bottomless pit. Always hungry, always demanding. It left him… frustrated.“Master,” Eldric’s voice was soft, almost hesitant beside him. “If it pleases you… I wish to begin forging a Soul Slave.”Kael Draven froze mid-step.A Soul Slave?He’d heard of them before. Beings born in the Blood Pool, bound to the will of their master. Warriors that answered without q

Marcus Drake wasn’t exactly a heavyweight in the Drake family. As a Seventh‑Level Inner Energy martial artist, he was decent, sure—but nothing extraordinary. Still, he thought he could handle things. He thought wrong.It all happened in a blink. One moment he was standing there, and the next—he was gone.Kael Draven’s palm came down once. Sharp, decisive. Like a bolt of lightning. Marcus Drake went airborne, flung like a kite cut loose, then crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. If Kael Draven hadn’t held back… that one blow would’ve ended him for good.“You’re asking for death.”Marcus Drake’s brother didn’t hesitate. No second thought—he lunged forward like an arrow and unleashed his Thousand Days Palm. Fury in every motion. But before his palm could land, Kael Draven was already there.Same result. No time to react. He went flying, a ragdoll tossed aside, slamming into the earth hard enough to make the crowd wince.Silence fell. If Marcus Drake went down because he undere

Thomas Drake’s voice rang with unshakable certainty, like he was stating a truth that needed no arguing.“You really want to die?”“Kael Draven… have you lost your mind?”Frederick Drake and Henry Drake exchanged looks. Their cousin wasn’t acting right. Strange. Could this be tied to something from ten years ago? Something buried, now clawing its way back to the surface?Neither of them showed pity. To them, a failure was nothing but a failure — and being tied by blood to such a man was an insult. An embarrassment to the Drake name. If they had the chance to end him here… why wouldn’t they take it?Kael Draven saw it in their eyes. Cold. Unyielding. They were thinking: You have no mercy. Please don’t blame me when I return it tenfold. This is your own doing.From the depths of the Dragon Seal Space, Kael Draven drew the Bloodthirsty Mad Blade. To anyone else, it looked like a simple, ordinary greatsword. Nothing special. But there was something strange — how he had pulled it out. Tha

There was no mercy in their tone.Serenya Valen, the proud daughter of the City Lord’s Mansion, had never been spoken to like this before. Not in all her life. Not like this.Before she could flare up, Lucian Draven — standing beside her like stone — gave a faint laugh, sharp and cold.“Miss Serenya,” he said softly, almost casually, “there’s no need to waste words on such a worthless man. A year from now, I’ll deal with him for you.”“A waste will always be a waste,” Serenya Valen shot back, voice sharp as a blade. Her words cut through the air, meant for everyone to hear. “Even daring to challenge takes an entire year. Tell me — why does someone like him even deserve to breathe this world’s air?”Her disdain was pure and unapologetic.Kael Draven stepped forward slowly. No rush. No drama. But there was something in his voice — quiet, steady, resolved.“Then we don’t need to wait a year. Lucian Draven, I challenge you — here and now. Do you accept?”A challenge to Lucian Draven?T