Sovereign of the Nine Heavens

CHAPTER 6 — BLOOD BENEATH THE ARENA

Every disciple wanted to watch John Carter die.

The atmosphere inside the Sky Burial Sect’s outer arena felt far closer to an execution ground than a tournament. Thousands of disciples crowded the massive stone terraces carved into the mountainside while freezing winds whipped through the crimson banners hanging overhead. Spirit lanterns burned along the walls in pale blue flames, casting ghostly light across the enormous circular battlefield below.

The Outer Court Tournament had finally begun.

For most disciples, the tournament represented an opportunity. Victory could elevate a nobody into someone worthy of resources, status, and recognition within the sect.

For others, it was simply entertainment, but for John, stepping into the arena felt like willingly walking into a den filled with starving wolves. The moment he passed through the arena gates, whispers erupted throughout the crowd like wildfire. “He actually came.”

“That lunatic still dares show his face?”

“I heard Derek Vane disappeared after meeting him.”

“No, I heard John found some hidden inheritance.”

“Impossible. Trash like him?” John ignored the voices as he moved toward the lower participant platform. Even so, he could feel countless eyes following him from every direction. Suspicion lingered in those stares. Fear lurked beneath them. Hatred remained stronger than ever. The entire sect felt different now.

Before, disciples mocked him openly because they viewed him as harmless. Back then, he had been nothing more than a cripple struggling to survive at the bottom of the outer court. Now they watched him carefully. That change unsettled him far more deeply than the insults ever had.

“You enjoy it.” Luciana’s voice drifted softly through his mind.

John kept his expression calm as he replied internally, “Enjoy what?”

“The attention.” His answer came immediately.

“I don’t.”

A faint laugh brushed against his thoughts like silk sliding across steel.

“Lying to yourself becomes dangerous after enough years.”

John said nothing after that because part of him knew she was right. For the first time in his life, people no longer looked at him with pity or disgust. The disciples surrounding him were afraid, and somewhere deep inside his chest, that realization filled him with a dark sense of satisfaction.

The moment he recognized that feeling, disgust twisted through him. The arena suddenly trembled as an overwhelming wave of spiritual pressure descended from above.

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Kael Drake landed effortlessly at the center platform. His dark robes flowed behind him while spiritual energy spiraled around his body like storm currents. Snowflakes dissolved before they could even touch his skin. The strongest outer disciple. The future pride of the Sky Burial Sect. The disciples worshipped him openly.

John watched from below without speaking.

Kael’s gaze swept across the arena once before briefly landing on him. Only for a second. Yet the instant their eyes met, John felt something cold settle into his chest, a warning.

Then Kael calmly looked away.

Elder Morvane slowly rose from the elder platform overlooking the arena. The old man’s voice echoed across the mountainside with chilling authority.

“The Outer Court Tournament will proceed under traditional rules.” The arena immediately fell silent.

“Victory shall be determined through surrender, incapacitation…”

Morvane paused briefly as if savoring the tension spreading through the crowd. “…or death.”

Excitement rippled through the disciples instantly. Several of them grinned openly while murmurs spread across the terraces. Bloodshed always attracted attention within the Sky Burial Sect.

Morvane continued calmly. “The top ten disciples shall receive cultivation resources, advancement opportunities, and entry into the Spirit Gathering Grounds.”

The reaction this time was even stronger. Even John’s expression shifted slightly. The Spirit Gathering Grounds were normally reserved for inner disciples alone. Rumors claimed the spiritual energy there was at least ten times denser than the outer districts.

“You need access to that place,” Luciana said quietly.

John frowned internally.

“Why?”

“The Void Scripture consumes spiritual energy far faster than ordinary cultivation arts.” Her tone sharpened.

“If you continue relying on scraps, your body will eventually collapse.” That answer did little to comfort him. The scripture already felt unstable enough. Before he could think further, the arena elder announced the opening matches. The tournament began instantly.

The first battles were brutal from the very beginning. Outer disciples hurled one another across the battlefield while spectators roared in excitement overhead. Spiritual techniques exploded throughout the arena in violent flashes of red, blue, and silver light. Bones shattered. Blood stained the stone floor. Screams echoed beneath the mountain sky.

The Sky Burial Sect celebrated violence openly, and no one bothered pretending otherwise.

John remained near the participant platform, watching carefully. More importantly, he observed Kael. Every disciple who challenged him collapsed within moments.

Kael wasted no movement. He displayed no arrogance. He fought like a sharpened blade. Fast Precise Terrifyingly calm. One disciple charged him recklessly while wielding a flaming spear technique powerful enough to melt stone.

Kael stepped aside. Then he struck the disciple’s chest with two fingers. The sound of cracking ribs echoed across the entire arena. The disciple collapsed unconscious before his body even hit the ground. For a brief moment, stunned silence spread through the crowd. Then the cheering exploded louder than before.

“Senior Brother Kael is unstoppable!”

“He’s already strong enough for the inner court!”

“No one can challenge him!” Kael ignored the praise completely. His expression remained unreadable, almost detached from the chaos surrounding him.

John narrowed his eyes slightly. “He’s holding back,” Luciana observed.

“You can tell?”

“He could kill every disciple here within minutes.” The casual certainty in her voice sent unease crawling through him. Eventually, John’s first match was announced. The crowd reacted instantly. Laughter erupted from every direction.

“Finally!”

“I thought the cripple would hide!”

“Betting closes now!” John stepped onto the battlefield while disciples openly mocked him from the terraces above. His opponent smirked confidently.

Trevor Cain, Third-stage Meridian Awakening, Far stronger than the version of John most people still believed existed.

Trevor rolled his shoulders casually before speaking. “I’ll make this quick.”

John remained silent. The arena elder dropped his hand. “Begin.”

Trevor attacked immediately. Spiritual energy surged around his fists as he rushed forward with explosive speed. Fast but reckless, John calmly sidestepped the first strike.

Trevor blinked in surprise. The second punch came harder. John deflected it again. Murmurs immediately spread through the audience. “What?”

“Did he just dodge that?” Trevor’s expression darkened with anger.

“You think you’re clever?” He unleashed a furious barrage of attacks. John retreated across the arena while carefully observing every movement. The Void Scripture sharpened his senses to an unnatural degree now. He could see flaws in Trevor’s breathing, weaknesses in his stance, and tiny hesitations hidden within his muscle movements.

Everything felt slower. Trevor overextended during another attack. John moved instantly. One strike landed directly against Trevor’s exposed ribs. A sickening crack echoed through the arena.

Trevor screamed before collapsing sideways onto the stone floor. The crowd fell silent.

Trevor tried to stand again. The arena elder raised one hand.

“Victory, John Carter.” Shock spread through the spectators like a wave.

“He won?”

“Against Trevor?”

“That shouldn’t be possible!” John stepped away from the battlefield immediately. He did not celebrate, nor did he display arrogance. Yet he still felt the stares following him. Fear, curiosity, suspicion, and once again, part of him enjoyed it. That realization frightened him more than the fight itself.

“You are finally being acknowledged,” Luciana whispered. John’s jaw tightened.

“They’re afraid.”

“In this world,” she replied softly, “fear and respect often become the same thing.” The tournament continued throughout the afternoon.

John fought three more matches, and every victory intensified the whispers surrounding him. “He was trash yesterday!” Another disciple answered nervously, “Then what is he today?”

Rumors spread rapidly across the arena stands. “He found a hidden inheritance.”

“No. Someone powerful is secretly training him.”

“I heard he devoured another disciple’s cultivation.”

“That’s impossible.” Yet fewer people sounded convinced anymore.

John intentionally restrained himself during every battle. He avoided using devouring techniques or exposing the true nature of the Void Scripture. He relied only on precision movement and timing. Even so, his growth appeared monstrous compared to the weak disciple everyone remembered. During his fourth match, one opponent unleashed a spiritual blade technique capable of splitting solid stone.

John shattered the attack with a single punch. The arena fell silent once again. Even Elder Morvane narrowed his eyes from the elder platform above.

John sensed it immediately. The elder was watching him constantly now, studying him, searching for something. That pressure followed John through every remaining battle. By sunset, only sixteen disciples remained, and Kael Drake stood among them untouched. Not a single injury marked his body. He did not even appear tired.

During the break between rounds, John quietly left the arena and walked toward the lower cliff paths. He needed air. The constant attention felt suffocating. Snow drifted silently through the mountain winds while distant cheers echoed behind him. “You’re unsettled,” Luciana observed.

John leaned against a frozen stone pillar. “I’m changing.”

“Yes.” Her answer came without hesitation.

“You say that too calmly.”

“Because panic changes nothing.” John stared down at his trembling hands.

“What happens if I lose control?” Silence lingered briefly before Luciana finally replied.

“You already know the answer.” His stomach twisted painfully. Yes, he did know. The Void Scripture was not merely cultivating him; it was reshaping him, slowly, relentlessly, and the worst part was that it worked. His damaged meridians no longer ached constantly. His body felt stronger with every passing hour. For the first time in his life, he no longer felt weak. That temptation terrified him. Footsteps suddenly approached behind him.

John turned instantly.

Kael Drake stood several feet away beneath the falling snow. Alone, the strongest disciple studied him quietly before speaking. “You hide your movements well.”

John straightened slightly. “You followed me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty caught him off guard. Kael stepped closer, his expression calm but serious.

“You’re becoming stronger too quickly.” John remained expressionless.

“People improve.”

“Not like this.” Silence settled between them. Then Kael spoke quietly enough that only John could hear.

“You’re being watched by monsters far beyond this sect.” John’s heartbeat slowed instantly.

“What does that mean?”

Kael’s eyes briefly shifted toward the heavens.

“My family taught me how to recognize danger.” For the first time since meeting him, Kael Drake looked genuinely troubled.

“And whatever is surrounding you now…” His voice lowered further.

“…even the elders are afraid of it.” Before John could respond, a horn blast echoed across the mountain. The next round had begun.

Kael turned away immediately. “One warning,” he said without looking back.

“If you lose control inside that arena…” A pulse of spiritual pressure rippled from his body.

“…I’ll kill you myself.” Then he disappeared into the falling snow.

John remained frozen for several moments afterward, not because of the threat, but because Kael had sounded completely sincere. The tournament resumed beneath the crimson evening sky. Disciples gathered eagerly as the arena elder announced the next match pairings.

John stepped forward calmly. Then the elder spoke his opponent’s name.

“John Carter versus Elias Vane.” The atmosphere shifted instantly.

John’s eyes narrowed. A young disciple wearing dark inner-family robes stepped into the arena. Cold hatred burned openly across his face.

Elias Vane.

Derek Vane’s younger brother, the disciple’s voice echoed across the silent battlefield.

“You murdered my brother.” Whispers exploded throughout the crowd.

John immediately felt Elder Morvane’s attention sharpen from above. The arena elder slowly raised his hand, his expression cold and emotionless.

“Due to personal grievance between combatants…” He paused briefly.

“…death is permitted in this round.”

A crushing silence swept across the entire mountain.