“City Lord, I’ll give you face this time.”Alistair Draven’s eyes were sharp and cold as he glanced at the bloodied youth. Without another word, he turned, signaling Lucian Draven to leave with him.“Many thanks, City Lord,” Kaelen Draven and Evelina Drake said together, bowing low. They both knew—without Rowan Valen’s intervention, their son would’ve been dead already.“Father, why save that useless trash?”The words came dripping with venom from Serenya Valen’s lips, and Kaelen Draven and Evelina Drake flinched. Each time their son was called “trash,” it was like salt ground into an open wound. Yet, faced with her status, they could only bite back their anger.“Enough!” Rowan Valen’s tone cracked like a whip. “A young lady should not behave so rudely. Return home.”Usually, Serenya Valen could throw tantrums and get away with it. But when her father truly lost his temper, she didn’t dare push her luck. Still, as she stormed off, she spat one last line, her eyes gleaming with malice.

If he dares to come… then I’ll dare to kill him.Arrogance. Yes. But Rowan Valen wasn’t surprised. That boy had every reason to be cocky.“Kael Draven,” Rowan Valen said softly, his voice carrying a quiet weight. “My daughter’s been spoiled since she was little. She’s reckless… youthful. If she’s offended you in any way, I hope you can forgive her.”Kael Draven just gave a faint smile. “It’s nothing.”They exchanged a few more words, light conversation, nothing heavy. Then Kael Draven stood. He had learned something important through Rowan Valen: the Innate Realm wasn’t a single step—it had levels. The Hundred-Scattered Heaven and the A-Line Heaven. Right now, there is no time to waste. He had to force every drop of spiritual power into his dantian and condense it to a single point.Not long after leaving the City Lord’s Manor, his expression shifted. His pace quickened. No direction toward his clan. Instead—he turned sharply toward a quiet, forgotten heap of garbage.By the pile came

The air itself seemed to tremble. Nine Consecutive Strikes of the Yellow Springs smashed head-on against the Eighteen Heaven-Splitting Strikes.There was no denying it—Roderic Valmar, number ninety-six on the Hundred Battle Rankings, was a powerhouse. Every blow in his relentless barrage struck harder than the last, pounding the air like an endless storm. It was chaos in motion, unstoppable.Kael Draven didn’t dare blink. Not for a second. His grip on the Blood-Drinking Mad Blade tightened until his knuckles whitened. He launched his own Nine Consecutive Strikes of the Yellow Springs without hesitation. At the same moment, his Profound Heaven Finger ignited—pure, concentrated force, sharp enough to split reality itself.Boom.In the blink of an eye, they’d traded over ten brutal exchanges. Neither gave ground. And only now—only now—did Roderic Valmar truly acknowledge Kael Draven. That “trash” who, in mere months, had shattered the barrier to Hundred-Scattered Heaven… and beaten Lucia

The moment the young man stood tall, his great blade resting in his grip like some kind of king’s scepter, not one soul in Thundercloud City dared to laugh. Not even a whisper.Who here would dare speak to Alistair Draven that way? Not one.Whether or not Kael Draven could actually kill him, the sheer boldness, the unshakable certainty—it demanded respect. Courage like that wasn’t something you saw every day. It was reckless. And rare.“You intend to kill me?” Alistair Draven’s voice was edged with disbelief. A thin smile curled on his lips, cold and sharp. Beneath it, a flicker of killing intent began to glow.“Kael Draven.”With a swift hand gesture, Kael Draven stopped Rowan Valen before she could speak. “City Lord, I know your intentions are good. But today, I must kill Lucian Draven. No one—no one—can stop me.”Rowan Valen gave him a long, quiet look. She knew him well enough to understand this stubborn streak of his. A sigh escaped her lips. She stepped aside, but lingered nearb

In Emberfall Town,Lord Veyne’s anger burned hotter than a forge at midnight. His son—Magnus Veyne—was dead. And with his death came a vengeance that brooked no delay. No hesitation. He would use whatever means necessary… even calling in the infamous Black Wind Daoist to wipe out the Draven Clan completely.“Grandfather… Senior Black Wind has arrived.”“Good. Very good.” Lord Veyne didn’t pause. His voice carried no doubt—only grim resolve. Without a second thought, he summoned the clan elders and stepped toward the estate gates himself.Outside the Veyne Clan estate.A small man waited there. Barely five feet tall, his face sharp, cold, and carved as if from shadow. A sly grin played at his lips. Watching the Veyne clan warriors file out one by one, he spoke casually, almost amused.“Lord Veyne… many years have passed. I trust fortune has treated you well?”“Senior Black Wind, I regret troubling you with this matter. I apologize.”The Daoist waved him away with a single hand, his ton