Three months had passed since the Beast Crown's reemergence shook the foundation of the Loc Empire. Yet amid the whispers of Sword Kings and shattered sects, Huang trained in silence.
Within the secluded Crescent Valley of the Azure Sect, beneath the muted breath of spiritual winds and night-shimmering stars, Huang pursued mastery. With Jiang Fei's guidance and the insights of the Immortal Tomb, he had finally completed the intricate patterns of the Heaven Severing Arc—an elusive sword art meant to cut through fate itself. The final movement, practiced beneath the light of a blood-red comet, allowed him to disrupt even soul-based attacks before they struck.
But Huang was not the only one who had grown.
His three disciples—Lan Qin, the fiery and reckless sword chaser; Yi Meixue, the icy and intuitive prodigy with a calculating mind; and Bao Yun, the grounded strategist with earth-hardened resilience—had turned his Ruling Blade Technique into something else entirely.
Together, they developed the Tri-Blade Cycle Formation, a synchronized assault pattern that wove their energies together into a single, seamless force. Meixue controlled tempo, Bao Yun shielded the flow, and Lan Qin directed the assault like a blazing spear.
After yet another training match where all three were cleanly disarmed by Huang's bare hands, Lan Qin groaned and flopped on the grass.
> "Alright, alright, we yield! But at least let us call you 'Master' now. It's only fair!"
> "No," Huang said without looking back, brushing his blade across a mossy stone. "Call me Boss. Less formal. You're not disciples. You're brothers and sister-in-arms."
Yi Meixue raised an eyebrow. "Even though you thrashed us?"
> "Especially because I thrashed you."
They didn't argue again.
---
Now, after three quiet months, Huang finally donned the full attire of his rank.
His Head Disciple robes, black trimmed with cascading silver embroidery, shimmered with hidden runes. At his side was the azure-gold sect badge, the symbol of his direct appointment by Sect Leader Kang and Master War. Pinned in his hair was the bone-white imperial hairpin—a gift from the Sword King of Singularity himself.
For the first time, Huang looked every bit the rising figure the empire whispered about.
With his three students at his back, he arrived at Celestial Crown City—capital of the Loc Empire and host of the historic Beast Crown Tournament.
The city was an imperial wonder: ten levels of spiraling districts built into a sacred mountain, ringed by walls etched with divine inscriptions. In the sky, spirit hawks and cloud gliders ferried cultivators across floating platforms. The Imperial Coliseum at its peak, gleamed like a heaven-forged relic.
There, hundreds of beast tamers—each chosen by their sect—stood gathered in formation. Some wore bright, foreign robes; others bore the subtle dignity of major sects. Fanged mounts, feathered spirit owls, and scaled serpents watched beside their masters.
When Huang entered, spirit horns rang, and the formation parted for him. There were whispers—not out of malice, but out of awe.
> "That's him…" "The one who returned the crown?" "Azure Sect's Head Disciple… he doesn't look old enough."
A broad-shouldered youth with dragon-scale vambraces sneered.
> "So that's the genius of the empire? I expected taller."
> "And I expected smarter," murmured Yi Meixue, just behind Huang, her voice as crisp as falling frost. "He can hear you."
From the upper terrace, Crown Prince Yoon Gi stood in regal silver and ice-blue robes. Beside him was Prime Minister Pei Li, and all the sect leaders of the Loc Empire sat in glowing jade seats.
Pei Li's voice rang out, sharp and imperial:
> "All participants of the Beast Crown Tournament, kneel."
The crowd obeyed.
> "Now rise—and behold the one who risked life and soul to return the artifact that may safeguard our realm. Head Disciple Huang of the Azure Sect, Tournament Marshal by decree of the Crown."
Huang stepped forward, projecting calm but undeniable authority.
> "This crown does not belong to any one sect or court," he said. "It belongs to the balance of the realm. Strength alone cannot claim it. It will yield only to one whose heart, restraint, and bond with spirit beasts are unmatched."
His gaze swept the crowd.
> "So prove yourselves—not just to win, but to be worthy of it."
> "Those who think this is just a game of taming power… turn back now."
At that moment, a purple shimmer passed through his irises—a flicker of sword intent even beasts would bow to.
On the sidelines, Bao Yun muttered, "You ever notice when Boss talks like that, it feels like we're part of some legend?"
Lan Qin grinned. "We are. He just hasn't told us the ending yet."
Up above, Crown Prince Yoon Gi smiled faintly.
The Beast Crown Tournament had officially begun.
And the realm would never be the same.
The morning sun filtered through layers of sacred mist that shrouded the Imperial Coliseum, giving the vast arena a dreamlike glow. A single platform rose in the center—circular and obsidian, etched with flowing silver lines that resembled pulsing veins. At the center of it stood the Beast Crown, floating above an ornate pedestal of ancient beast bone.
When all contestants had gathered, a solemn voice rang through the coliseum like a divine chord:
> "The First Trial begins now. All participants, step into the Circle of Will."
There were exactly 108 contestants, each chosen by their sect or clan. As they stepped forward in rows, the crown pulsed faintly, and runes lit beneath their feet—each one connected by threads of soul light to the crown above.
Huang, standing at the center front, glanced to his side where Lan Qin, Yi Meixue, and Bao Yun stood shoulder to shoulder.
> "Don't force anything," he whispered. "Let your heart speak first. The beast will come."
They nodded in quiet understanding.
From the high dais, Crown Prince Yoon Gi and the Prime Minister watched with composure. Arrayed beside them were the Sect Leaders of the Loc Empire and even a few foreign emissaries. And just behind them, veiled behind a silver screen, sat an ancient observer—a Sword King whose identity only few could guess.
Suddenly, the entire platform vanished from the physical realm.
Each contestant found themselves alone in a boundless dream realm, their bodies suspended in a gray void, where wind whispered not in air, but through their minds.
A soft growl echoed around each of them. Then came the beast.
Each contestant faced a single spirit beast born of their own inner nature—be it wild, regal, playful, sorrowful, or monstrous.
Some, like a young tamer from Feather Lake Sect, met a glowing sky fox with gentle eyes. Others, more arrogant, faced beasts twisted by malice—a bloodhorn boar or a venomous ape with red mist dripping from its maw.
For Lan Qin, a crimson saber lion emerged, growling with restrained pride. Qin tried to step forward with playful arrogance, but the lion bared its fangs. He paused—then removed his sword and knelt.
> "I thought you'd be my blade," he said softly, "but I see now… you are the fire I've yet to earn."
The lion roared, and with a shimmer of light, leapt into his chest—leaving a faint red glyph on his palm. He had passed.
Yi Meixue, in her realm, met a glass-winged swan with eyes like twin mirrors. She offered it a melody, using her Sonic Breath to hum a tune she'd never known but somehow remembered. The swan cried softly and perched upon her shoulder. She passed.
Bao Yun found himself face-to-face with an iron-shell pangolin, covered in moss and cracks. He bowed deeply, placing his palm on the earth beneath him.
> "You've endured storms. Let me be your shelter this time."
The pangolin lowered its head. A green glow passed into his chest. He passed.
Then, in the heart of the void, was Huang.
But there was no beast.
Only silence.
Minutes passed.
Then—something stirred. A ripple. A cut in space.
And from the fracture stepped not a beast, but a shadow of himself—a mirror Huang with no emotion, holding a twisted, shattered version of his sword. Behind the shadow were the bones of a thousand beasts, some still twitching in their final breaths.
> "Is this… who I would've become?" Huang whispered.
> "You are not born of beast blood," the shadow said. "You are a sword that walks. Can you tame that which was never yours?"
Huang stepped forward and dropped his weapon.
> "I won't tame anything. I will walk beside it."
From the ground behind the shadow, a creature older than time emerged—a Void Serpent, coiled in galaxies and silence, with starlight eyes and scales made of dusk.
The shadow hissed—and was devoured.
The serpent looked into Huang's soul.
Then entered it.
And branded a purple-black mark on his back.
He passed.
---
Back in the real world, one by one, contestants reappeared. Some were crying. Some laughing. Many were unconscious or physically drained. Fifteen were gone entirely, rejected by the trial's will and cast into comas.
The examiners marked down names.
From the observers' terrace, Crown Prince Yoon Gi nodded.
> "Of the first 108, seventy passed. Five awakened bloodline beasts. Two formed soul pacts. One…" He glanced down. "...received the Void Mark."
Prime Minister Pei Li didn't speak. His eyes were fixed on Huang.
From the silver veil above them, the Sword King of Singularity whispered only to himself:
> "So… your beast is not of this world either."