The entire Azure Sect Outer Court had gathered.
The Grand Arena of Battle Peak, a massive stone coliseum carved into the mountain's cliffside, pulsed with anticipation. Disciples from every peak filled the stands—freshmen wide-eyed, second-years whispering bets, third-years grim-faced and tense. Elders watched from the high pavilion, their faces hidden behind veils of mist and detachment.
At the center of it all stood two figures on the dueling stage, where faint spiritual lines lit the borders of the arena in pale blue.
On the left: Zhao Kun, head of the third-years, robe trimmed in black iron thread, saber resting across his back like a promise of destruction.
On the right: Huang, clad in plain robes, sword sheathed at his side, calm and unreadable.
There were no fanfares. No titles.
Just silence… then the booming voice of Instructor Pei.
> "This is a formal, witnessed duel under sect law. No interference. First to yield, unconsciousness, or serious injury loses. Begin!"
Zhao Kun didn't hesitate. He moved with the grace of a predator, saber drawn in one fluid arc, light flashing along the edge. His technique was brutal but elegant—like a hammer forged into a scalpel.
Huang stepped forward, unsheathing his sword just enough to deflect the incoming strike, redirecting it with the barest tilt of his wrist.
Sparks flew. The crowd gasped.
Then the blades clashed again. And again. And again.
Steel met steel, but behind each strike was something greater.
Philosophy. Will. Pride.
Zhao Kun's voice was sharp with contempt as they traded blows.
> "You hide behind empty robes and borrowed power. Who are you really, boy?"
Huang parried and sidestepped, his expression cool. "You want to know who I am?"
He twisted his wrist, sending Zhao Kun's saber wide, then reversed with a knee-strike to the ribs.
> "I am the sword that doesn't kneel."
Zhao Kun grunted, recovering with a whirlwind slash. Huang rolled away, barely nicked—but it was the first visible wound either had received.
The crowd roared.
Zhao Kun smirked, voice rising for all to hear.
> "I've crushed Peak Champions and shattered soul weapons. And now you bleed like the rest."
He raised his free hand and tapped his own brow.
A pulse of Qi surged—and his saber began to hum.
> "Let me show you my Trump Card. Don't blink, pretender."
Dark crimson light erupted from Zhao Kun's body. His saber grew longer, its edge jagged with runic activation. The wind howled around him.
> "Heaven-Sundered Fang!"
He vanished.
Huang's eyes narrowed.
There was a boom—a streak of red-light tore across the platform, shattering stone as Zhao Kun appeared mid-air, crashing down like a thunderclap.
Huang's blade met the saber at the last second—but it cracked.
The impact blasted him backwards, his feet skidding across the arena floor.
The audience exploded in noise.
Huang coughed dust, his sword's edge flickering from the stress. Zhao Kun descended, triumphant.
> "One more hit, and that sword is done. Go on—yield."
But Huang wasn't looking at his sword.
His eyes were glowing with a deeper light—violet.
He sheathed the blade… slowly. And then closed his eyes.
Zhao Kun frowned.
> "You meditate now?"
"No," Huang said.
> "I ascend."
From the depths of his cultivation sea, the power erupted.
It wasn't a violent breakthrough, but a sovereign one—steady and majestic. His aura turned cold, then hot, then vast. Bronze light shimmered around him—and then that bronze began to shimmer with a faint silver hue.
Peak of Bronze Seal Stage. Bordering Silver.
His dantian pulsed like a second heart.
And then Huang opened his eyes.
> "You said my sword was borrowed."
He reached back, placing two fingers on the hilt.
> "Let me show you a blade only I can wield."
Purple light began to form—first faint, then dense. It wasn't flame or lightning, but a refined pressure, like the stillness before royal judgment.
Zhao Kun felt his knees weaken. "What… is this Qi?"
Huang whispered:
> "Ruling Blade."
He moved.
One step. Just one.
But it shattered the ground beneath him.
The technique wasn't fast. It wasn't even complicated. It was direct—like the decree of a king. His sword, enveloped in deep violet light, struck forward once.
Zhao Kun roared and met it with Heaven-Sundered Fang.
The violet and red collided—and purple devoured crimson.
Zhao Kun was sent flying. His saber shattered—not from impact, but from rejection. The energy inside it had bent the knee to something superior.
Huang stood alone, sword hovering beside him, humming with light.
Zhao Kun landed outside the boundary—his chest rising and falling in shock. His eyes stared upward in disbelief.
There was no cheer. Just silence—the kind that followed something undeniable.
Instructor Pei rose.
> "Zhao Kun has been disarmed and removed from the ring. Victory: Huang."
Only then did the arena erupt in noise.
Lan Qin was on his feet shouting. Elders leaned forward for the first time. Some Peak Masters whispered among themselves—others, eyes sharp, sent disciples to report immediately to their superiors.
But Huang did not bask.
He turned his back on the victory as though it didn't matter—and walked toward the exit.
Only Lan Qin heard him murmur:
> "Ruling Blade... one day, it will do more than defeat men. It will change the world."
The wind had barely begun to settle. The violet glow of Huang's Ruling Blade still shimmered in the cracks of the shattered arena when a thunderous voice echoed across the coliseum.
> "You think a single technique makes you untouchable?"
A figure leapt onto the dueling stage—followed by two more.
All three wore the crimson-and-black of Battle Peak's fourth-years, and each bore a sigil marked with Zhao Kun's saber crest. Veterans of hundreds of battles, they moved like wolves circling prey.
> "Zhao Kun is still our head," one sneered. "And you… you're just a whelp with an attitude."
Gasps spread through the crowd.
> "They're all fourth-years…"
> "Wait… wait, are they doing that?!"
The tallest of the trio raised a clenched fist high.
> "We invoke the Martial Code: Wild Brawl."
Instantly, the arena fell silent.
Even instructors stiffened.
Because those two words—Wild Brawl—meant death was permitted. A sacred clause within the Azure Sect's ancient scrolls. A challenge made only when blood had been spilled and honor was at stake. When logic failed, only battle remained.
Huang did not flinch.
He simply turned to Instructor Pei and spoke loud enough for all to hear.
> "I accept."
The three challengers grinned.
> "You're cocky. Think your Sword Intent will save you now?"
> "You'll wish you'd never—"
> "Enough," Huang said flatly. "If you continue this, two of you will die."
The laughter stopped.
Even the wind paused.
It wasn't bravado.
It was a statement of truth.
And the elders knew it.
From the viewing platform, Elder Wu gave a subtle hand signal to the array controllers. The arena began to shift, stone panels groaning as ancient inscriptions revealed themselves.
Violet light pulsed from the glyphs. The sky above turned dark, cloudy. A dome of translucent energy rose up, encasing the platform. The hum of killing intent—true killing intent—saturated the air.
> "Life and Death Domain, activated."
This domain was forged long ago by sect founders—meant only for life-and-death battles between cultivators of similar stage. Within it, no spiritual link, no talismans, and no external aid could be used. Only one's cultivation, skill, and will.
> "No rules," Elder Wu announced. "No mercy. Martial Code of Conduct enforced."
The crowd stood in stunned silence.
Lan Qin stepped to the front of the stands, fists clenched. "What are they doing!? That's three versus one!"
One elder nearby whispered, "They called it fair. He accepted. Now the result belongs to the heavens."
—
Inside the dome, Huang looked at his three opponents.
They spread out, forming a triangle around him.
All of them were peak Bronze Seal stage, one even half-step into Silver. But none had advanced in spirit or clarity. They relied on brute force, body tempering, and years of ruthless sparring.
The first rushed him—axe swinging horizontally, stone-shattering force behind it.
Huang didn't draw his blade. He twisted his body, sidestepped the blow—and drove his palm into the man's chest.
The man staggered, eyes wide.
> "Didn't… feel like much…"
Then blood poured from his lips. His internal organs had shifted from a single strike of Sword-Infused Qi Palm.
He collapsed, seizing.
Dead before he hit the ground.
The second screamed and activated his Earth Movement Art, burying himself underground in a blur of mud and stone.
The third charged with dual sabers, roaring.
Huang waited. Calm.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, his sword drew halfway.
> "Cut Through Lies."
It wasn't a flash. It was a clean truth. A line carved in reality.
The twin sabers shattered. The man screamed as the strike sliced through his shoulder, disabling him instantly.
The ground beneath Huang cracked.
The third man launched from below—ambush complete, war cry rising.
And that was when Huang drew his sword—fully.
Violet light coiled around the blade like a decree of heaven.
> "Ruling Blade — Final Edict."
One stroke.
The air itself split.
Not a shockwave, but a tear—space trembled.
The final attacker fell mid-air, his arm gone. He hit the ground, gasping, then passed out from pain.
Dead silence reigned.
The Life and Death Domain pulsed once.
Then it vanished.
The dome receded, the arena returned to stillness. A light breeze swept across the blood-streaked stone.
Only Huang remained standing.
Only one of his opponents breathed.
Instructor Pei rose, voice firm:
> "Under Martial Code and Sect Law, Huang acted within right. No interference shall be issued. This duel is concluded."
The crowd didn't cheer.
They bowed their heads in respect.
Huang turned away, his blade clean, his steps calm.
As he walked off the platform, Elder Wu whispered under his breath:
> "That boy… is not here to learn. He is here to change everything."
And above, in the highest pavilion—where only core elders sat—Sect Leader Kang, who had watched from behind an invisible veil, finally stirred.
> "A void the sect did not know it had… has been filled."