The massive, pitch-black cyclone in the center of the arena slowly began to fade. The roaring wind died down. The dark, spinning magic melted away into the air. Lucien stood in the exact center of the arena. He lowered his hands. His dirty brown cloak fluttered gently in the remaining breeze. His grey shirt was completely untouched. He did not have a single burn on his skin. He was not breathing hard. He did not have a single drop of sweat on his forehead. He had just destroyed an Earth-Shattering master's ultimate, suicidal attack, and he looked like he had just finished stretching his arms after a good nap. The stadium was absolutely dead silent. Millions of people stared at the beggar. They could not even comprehend the level of power they had just witnessed. It was completely beyond human understanding. Lucien looked down at the ground. He bent his knees and casually picked up his cheap, black-stained iron sword from the dirt. He held the sword in his right hand. He looked a

The Imperial Arena was completely, absolutely silent. Millions of people sat in the high marble seats, but not a single person made a sound. No one cheered. No one booed. No one even dared to breathe. It felt like the entire world had been frozen in a block of invisible ice. Down in the center of the massive stadium, the white sand was gone. It had been melted into a giant, deep crater of hot, black, bubbling glass. The air smelled of burnt ozone, melted stone, and old blood. In the exact center of the black crater stood Lucien. He was bare-chested. His dirty brown cloak and grey shirt had been burned away by the explosions. His skin glowed with a faint, beautiful, obsidian-like shine. He stood perfectly straight. His broad shoulders were pulled back. He did not look tired. He did not look hurt. He looked like an ancient god of war who had just stepped down from the heavens to judge the earth. At his heavy iron boots knelt the Golden Sword Saint. The old master was broken. His leg

"You broke them," the Sword Saint whispered weakly. He coughed, spitting a dark clump of blood onto Lucien’s heavy iron boots. "You broke the Emperor's mind just by looking at him.""He was already broken," Lucien said softly. His deep voice echoed quietly in the empty crater. "He just didn't know it yet."The Sword Saint stared up at Lucien’s face. He looked at the strong jaw, the dark hair, and the incredibly fierce, proud eyes. Suddenly, a look of realization flashed in the old master’s dying eyes. "I remember those eyes," the Sword Saint gasped. His trembling hand reached out, pointing a bloody finger at Lucien. "I remember a woman... a quiet woman in the palace. Lady Aris. She had the same eyes."Lucien’s face turned completely hard. His jaw tightened. "Yes," Lucien said coldly. "She was my mother."The Sword Saint’s eyes widened in absolute shock. The final puzzle piece clicked into place in his dying brain. "You... you are the banished prince," the Sword Saint whispered, his

The severed head of the Golden Sword Saint rolled across the black, melted glass of the arena floor. The sound was not very loud. But in the giant, completely silent stadium, it sounded like a heavy church bell ringing the end of the world. The head rolled a few feet and finally came to a complete stop. The dead eyes of the greatest master in the Empire stared blankly up at the bright blue sky. The rest of his body turned into fine, grey ash and blew away in the soft morning wind. Lucien stood in the exact center of the giant arena. He slowly lowered his cheap, rusty iron sword. The dark, terrifying black magic faded away from the blade, leaving just a simple piece of chipped metal. Millions of people sat in the high marble seats. They did not cheer. They did not boo. They did not even breathe. They just stared. A dirty, homeless rogue in a torn brown cloak had just murdered the absolute pinnacle of the Empire’s strength. It was impossible. It was a nightmare. But it had happened

Seraphina looked at the hundreds of thousands of people holding their swords up in the air. She looked at the giant mercenary leaders defending a dirty beggar. She looked at Lucien, who was standing calmly in the center of the arena. “He did it,” Seraphina thought, her heart hammering against her ribs. “He did not just win a fight. He won the people. He broke the fear that held the Empire together.”Kai, Lin, and Jian stood next to her. They were crying tears of pure, overwhelming joy. They were not alone anymore. The whole world was standing up to protect their teacher. "Instructor Mo Yan is the greatest man in history," Kai whispered, gripping his steel sword tightly. Up in the Royal Box, the Emperor was frozen in complete, horrifying panic. He stared at the massive crowd of armed citizens. He saw the angry, hateful looks on their faces. He saw the Silver Wolf Clan preparing to throw magical attacks at his balcony. "Shoot them!" the Emperor screamed, losing his mind completely.