Battle for Supremacy

Ruhi returned to her allotted room and took a moment to rest. Following Navrat's instructions, she adhered to her nightly routine of practicing energy flow and refining the natural energy within her. The process was calming, a steady rhythm that centered her mind after the intensity of the tournament's first day.

As the night deepened, Ruhi felt the pangs of hunger. Donning her mask to maintain anonymity, she ventured into the bustling night market. The streets were alive with the hum of chatter, the glow of lanterns, and the enticing aroma of food.

She paused before a small shop selling steaming bowls of ramen. The sight of the dish brought back faint memories of her father’s stories about its delicious taste. She had never had the chance to try it herself. With a hint of curiosity and nostalgia, she ordered a bowl, the savory aroma making her stomach growl in anticipation.

Carrying her meal, she began the walk back to her room when a group of figures appeared from the opposite direction. It was Ashant and his friends. While some of them seemed slightly intoxicated, Ashant walked with controlled composure, his sharp gaze unwavering.

Ashant's eyes landed on Ruhi, and a playful smile curled across his lips. Without a word, he released a wave of energy, the pressure radiating around him like an unspoken challenge. He wanted to test her, to gauge the strength of his potential opponent.

Ruhi felt the oppressive energy, a deliberate attempt to intimidate her, but she remained composed. Suppressing her initial surge of anger, she calmly countered, releasing her own energy in a controlled burst. The air around them seemed to tremble as Ashant's pressure shattered against her resolve.

Ashant's smile widened as they passed each other. “Interesting,” he murmured to himself, the encounter only deepening his intrigue.

Ruhi returned to her room and finally sat down to enjoy her meal. The moment the noodles touched her lips, her eyes lit up. “Delicious,” she murmured, savoring every bite.

After her meal, she prepared for a shower. An awkward thought crossed her mind—Navrat’s soul still resided within her body. But far from her worries, Navrat was wholly immersed in his deep training, striving to break through a crucial stage. He had no interest in her physical actions at the moment.

Feeling reassured, Ruhi completed her routine and slipped into bed. Exhausted yet content, she drifted into a peaceful sleep, ready for the challenges of the next day.

The sun's rays filtered through the windows as Ruhi woke up early, feeling refreshed. She went through her morning exercises, a balance of meditation and energy refinement, before heading to the arena.

The arena was abuzz with excitement as spectators and participants gathered for the continuation of the tournament. The commentator’s voice echoed across the stands, setting the stage for the second round of battles.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back! Yesterday, we witnessed breathtaking matches filled with power, strategy, and skill. Today promises to be just as thrilling, if not more! Let’s get ready for the second round!”

The crowd roared in anticipation as Ashant and Farang stepped into the arena. Both fighters exuded an undeniable presence, their auras igniting the tension in the air.

“Here we are, ladies and gentlemen!” the commentator’s voice rang out. “The first match of the second round pits Ashant of the Heaven Sky Sect against Farang of the Frost and Fire Sect! A battle of strategy versus elemental fury—who will prevail?”

Farang cracked his knuckles, his fiery-red aura shimmering with flecks of icy-blue. “Ashant, I’ve heard a lot about you. Let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

Ashant smirked, twirling his sword lazily as if the match were beneath him. “You’ll see soon enough, Farang. Try to last longer than your pathetic first-round opponents, will you?”

The gong rang, signaling the start of the battle.

Farang wasted no time, unleashing a fiery blast that morphed into icy shards mid-air. “Glacial Inferno!” he roared, the dual-element attack streaking toward Ashant with deadly precision.

Ashant didn’t flinch. With a flick of his sword, he deflected the shards with contemptuous ease. “Is that it? I was expecting more from the famed Frost and Fire Sect.”

Farang gritted his teeth, summoning a swirling vortex of fire and ice that expanded outward. The arena glowed with the clash of heat and cold, drawing gasps from the audience.

Ashant yawned theatrically, his form blurring as he invoked “Aetheric Step.” He reappeared directly behind Farang, his blade pressed lightly against the other fighter’s back. “Too slow,” he sneered before stepping back and allowing Farang to regain his footing.

Farang spun around, his eyes blazing with determination. “Don’t underestimate me!” he shouted, slamming his palms together to summon twin gauntlets of flame and ice. “Crimson Frost Claws!”

Ashant’s smirk widened. “Finally, you’re trying. Let me show you what real power looks like.” His sword began to glow with a radiant blue light, and with a single swing, he unleashed a wave of energy that cut through Farang’s attack like paper.

Farang staggered but managed to hold his ground. Summoning every ounce of strength, he launched himself at Ashant in a final, desperate assault.

Ashant sighed, sidestepping with effortless grace. With a quick strike, he shattered Farang’s gauntlets, sending the Frost and Fire Sect prodigy crashing to the ground.

The gong rang, signaling the end of the match.

“And the winner is Ashant!” the commentator announced, his voice barely audible over the thunderous applause. “A dominating performance from the Heaven Sky Sect’s prodigy!”

Ashant didn’t even glance at Farang as he sheathed his sword and strode out of the arena. “Pathetic,” he muttered, loud enough for Farang to hear. “Next time, don’t waste my time.”

The crowd buzzed with excitement, their cheers mixing with murmurs about Ashant’s overwhelming arrogance. As he left the arena, his confident smirk remained, his mind already dismissing Farang as another unworthy opponent on his path to victory.

The atmosphere in the arena grew tense as Ashant exited, his overwhelming victory leaving an unsettling impression.

In the gallery, Mistress Veira of the Illunium Sect leaned forward, her serene expression giving way to concern. “That wasn’t mere skill. There’s something unnatural about him now.”

Lord Baelin of the Frost and Fire Sect nodded grimly. “Ashant’s strength felt… tainted. What is Kael hiding?”

Kael, however, remained unbothered, a faint smile gracing his lips. His gaze flickered to Zashia for a moment before settling back, his satisfaction evident. Whatever his plans were, they remained a mystery.

As Ashant passed Zashia, his mocking smirk lingered. His eyes gleamed with contempt, silently daring her to rise to his level.

Ruhi clenched her fists but kept her expression neutral, the echoes of her father’s teachings calming her anger. Ashant’s arrogance only strengthened her resolve. Let him underestimate me, she thought. I’ll prove him wrong when the time comes.

The commentator’s booming voice broke the silence. “Next up, Garima of the Illunium Sect versus Zashia! This promises to be a clash to remember!”

Ruhi rose, steady and composed, her determination unwavering as she stepped toward the arena. Ashant’s smirk might linger, but her focus was clear. Victory awaited.

The arena quieted as Ruhi entered, her calm aura drawing every eye in the crowd. Across from her, Garima of the Illunium Sect prepared herself, her spiritual energy forming a shimmering barrier around her. Garima’s confidence was evident, but Ruhi’s serene focus carried a weight of its own, as though she stood above the need for arrogance.

Ruhi unsheathed her blade—a simple but impeccably crafted sword strapped at her side. She held it with a natural grace, and when the light of the arena caught the blade’s edge, it seemed to hum with restrained power.

The fight began with Garima launching the first move. Her energy surged forward, spiraling into a series of defensive formations. Ruhi didn’t react immediately; instead, she moved with deliberate precision, her feet gliding across the ground in a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. It wasn’t until Garima’s first barrage of energy disks shot toward her that Ruhi struck.

Ruhi’s footwork shifted into a dazzling flow—Dancing Butterfly. She weaved through the incoming attacks effortlessly, her movements so fluid they seemed almost preordained. The crowd leaned forward, captivated by the elegance of her dodges, as though she were performing a dance in the face of danger.

Garima’s brow furrowed, and she unleashed another wave of spiritual force, this time aimed to corner Ruhi. But Ruhi didn’t hesitate. With a flick of her wrist and a measured leap, she brought her sword into play, the edge of the blade cutting through Garima’s attack with unerring precision.

“That technique…” Mistress Veira murmured from the gallery. “It’s too refined. Where could she have learned such mastery?”

Ruhi closed the gap between them, her blade moving in a rapid, almost ethereal motion as she executed Slashing Butterfly. Each stroke of her sword mirrored the fluttering of butterfly wings—light yet deadly, beautiful yet devastating. Garima's barriers fell one by one, her defenses no match for the relentless precision of Ruhi’s attacks.

Despite Garima’s best efforts to counter, Ruhi’s advantage was clear. She stepped effortlessly around Garima’s desperate strikes, her movements leaving no room for error. With a final arc of her blade, Ruhi disarmed Garima’s last defensive effort, her sword stopping just inches from her opponent’s shoulder.

Garima froze, her breathing labored, as the realization of her defeat sank in. She stepped back and raised her hand in surrender.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices echoing across the arena. The commentator’s voice followed shortly after, ringing out with excitement: “And the winner is Zashia! A flawless performance that has left us all speechless!”

Ruhi sheathed her sword, her expression composed as she walked off the arena floor. The sect leaders exchanged whispers, their faces betraying a mix of intrigue and unease.

“Such mastery at her age…” Lord Baelin muttered. “There’s no way this is ordinary training.”

Kael, however, remained silent, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

As Ruhi passed by the fighters’ waiting area, she felt Ashant’s gaze on her. His smirk was taunting, yet his eyes held a flicker of curiosity—or was it unease? Ruhi met his look with cool indifference, her thoughts clear: I don’t need words. The battlefield will speak for me.

The third match between Wani and Kael’s Protégé began swiftly, with both combatants showcasing their unique strengths. Wani’s precise elemental control clashed against the Protégé’s disciplined martial techniques, creating a spectacle of power and strategy. Despite her skill, Wani struggled to break through the Protégé’s relentless counters. After an intense exchange, Kael’s Protégé landed a decisive blow, forcing Wani to yield.

“And the winner is Kael’s Protégé! A stunning display of tactical superiority!” the commentator announced as the crowd erupted in applause.

The final match of the round, Ishar versus Esha, unfolded with elegance and precision. Ishar’s close-combat prowess met Esha’s graceful spiritual techniques head-on. The battle was evenly matched, but Ishar’s ability to adapt and anticipate Esha’s movements gave him the edge. With a final decisive strike, Ishar secured victory.

“The last semifinalist is Ishar of the Heaven Sky Sect! What an electrifying conclusion to the second round!”

As the arena settled, the commentator’s voice rang out again, drawing everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, what an incredible round of battles we’ve witnessed today! However, our participants are far from done. After a brief rest, the semifinals will commence today itself! With our combatants showing such resilience, they’re ready to fight for glory!”

The screen displaying the matchups updated, revealing the semifinal lineup:

1. Ashant vs. Kael’s Protégé

2. Zashia (Ruhi) vs. Ishar

The crowd roared in anticipation as the participants made their way to prepare for the next stage of the tournament.

The commentator’s voice boomed across the arena as the semifinals were about to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen! After an exhilarating second round, we are now entering the semifinals! Four fighters remain, each one vying for the glory of the tournament championship! But only two will make it to the grand finale. Will it be the prodigious Ashant, the mysterious Zashia, the calculating Ishar, or the indomitable Kael’s Protégé? The stakes have never been higher!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, the anticipation palpable as the names of the semifinalists flashed on the giant screens.

“Our first semifinal match is about to begin! Ashant of the Heaven Sky Sect faces Kael’s Protégé, also from the Heaven Sky Sect! Will camaraderie or competition take the lead? Let’s find out!”

As Ashant stepped into the arena, his usual arrogance radiated through his confident stride. Opposite him, Kael’s Protégé stood composed, offering a respectful bow toward Ashant.

The crowd hushed in anticipation as the referee signaled the start of the fight. However, Kael’s Protégé did not draw his weapon or take a stance. Instead, he raised his hands in surrender and bowed deeply to Ashant.

“I concede,” Kael’s Protégé announced, his voice clear and unwavering.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs of disbelief.

“What’s this? Kael’s Protégé has forfeited the match! Is this strategy or submission?” the commentator exclaimed.

Ashant smirked, his dark aura flickering momentarily as he turned and exited the arena, victorious without lifting a finger.

“And now, the second semifinal! Zashia faces Ishar, another representative of the Heaven Sky Sect! This promises to be a battle of skill and strategy!”

Ruhi entered the arena calmly, her piercing gaze locked onto Ishar, who stood tall and confident. As the fight began, Ishar wasted no time, launching into a barrage of attacks that showcased the Heaven Sky Sect’s signature precision and strength.

Ruhi dodged gracefully, her footwork seamless, but Ishar shifted gears, channeling immense energy into a devastating technique. His voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

“Heaven’s Blinding Starfall!”

A massive, radiant energy surged from Ishar, cascading down toward Ruhi with unstoppable force. The crowd gasped, the arena awash with blinding light.

Ruhi’s expression didn’t falter. Taking a deep breath, she whispered to herself, If I lose here, Ashant will win uncontested. Ishar will bow out as well. I cannot let that happen.

Raising her hand, she conjured a small black orb—a fragment of the Calamity Art, Origin of Destruction. The tiny sphere pulsed with raw, destructive energy, its very presence distorting the air around it.

As Ishar’s attack descended, the orb expanded slightly, swallowing the radiant energy with ease. The resulting shockwave sent ripples through the arena, silencing the crowd.

With a swift motion, Ruhi directed the orb at Ishar. She ensured it only grazed him, but the impact was enough to knock him to the ground. Ishar lay still for a moment before raising his hand in surrender, his face pale.

“The winner is Zashia!” the commentator shouted, his voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. “What an incredible show of power and control! Zashia advances to the finals!”

Ruhi turned and exited the arena, her expression unreadable as her thoughts churned. I must finish this quickly in the final. Ashant’s strength is not just his own anymore.

As the second day concluded, the commentator addressed the crowd one last time.

“And there you have it, folks! The final match is set! Tomorrow, in the grand finale, Ashant of the Heaven Sky Sect will face Zashia, the enigma of this tournament, in a battle for ultimate supremacy! Rest well, and prepare for the most thrilling fight yet!”

The crowd roared in excitement as the fighters retreated to their quarters, the tension of the day lingering like a storm on the horizon.

After returning to her room, Zashia sank into the quiet stillness of the space, her body humming with residual energy from the day's battles. The moonlight filtered through the narrow windows, casting soft, silvery beams onto the floor. She exhaled deeply, letting the tension in her shoulders melt away as she prepared to settle into her routine.

As was her custom, Zashia began her training. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, she focused on her energy flow, refining and harmonizing it with the natural forces around her. Hours passed in serene concentration, her aura becoming brighter and more stable with each passing moment. When she finally stood, it was late into the night, the world outside cloaked in stillness.

On her way back earlier, Zashia had grabbed a quick meal from a bustling street vendor. Now, the food waited on the small table beside her. She took a shower, washing away the day's exertions, and changed into comfortable robes. The warm aroma of the meal was inviting, and she sat down, ready to eat.

As she reached for her first bite, a sharp sensation prickled at the edge of her awareness. Zashia froze, her senses going on high alert. A mysterious presence filled the room, faint but unmistakable. She turned swiftly, her energy coiling like a spring, ready to defend herself. But there was nothing there—just shadows dancing along the walls.

Her confusion deepened, and a faint unease crept into her thoughts. Then, a voice, thick with energy, echoed in the room. It was calm yet commanding, laced with an unmistakable authority. "Stop toying with her, Oni."

Before Zashia could react further, a tall, handsome man appeared in the center of the room, stepping out of thin air. He was dressed in flowing white robes that shimmered faintly under the moonlight. His sharp features radiated confidence, and his presence was overwhelming, like a storm contained within a single figure. The man bowed gracefully. "Your senses are as sharp as ever," he said with a faint smile.

Ruhi’s instincts screamed at her to attack, but the voice she heard next stilled her hand.

"Ruhi, spare me a moment," Navrat said, his tone gentle yet firm. The request wasn’t really a request; it was a statement of intent. Ruhi felt her body go still as Navrat’s soul took control, her consciousness willingly stepping aside. Navrat turned to the intruder with calm authority. "Oni, what have you found?"

Oni, still bowed, straightened and began his report. "The place mentioned in that page is located near the central region of the continent. However, it is not stationary—it moves constantly. The flow of time there is also anomalous; though I spent more than half a year inside, only a few days have passed here. The locals call it the Death Valley."

Navrat’s eyes narrowed as he listened, his sharp mind piecing together the implications. Oni continued, "I found traces of sect members who had ventured there, but only their remains were left. It is a perilous place, infamous and shrouded in mystery. After extensive research, I discovered that its movement follows an elliptical pattern around the central capital. I attempted to penetrate the mountain's core, but the suppression there was immense. Perhaps with your Heaven’s Domain, you could succeed after breaking through to the Immortal State."

Navrat nodded thoughtfully. "I see. That mountain... Nezu must have known I would eventually reach that barrier."

Oni hesitated briefly before adding, "Master, I also have troubling news. While returning, I overheard plans from members of Heaven Sky. After the tournament, they intend to launch a massive offensive on the eastern sects. The assault will be led by nine of their fourteen generals, all advanced Transcendents, and Ashant himself. Alongside them will be thousands of elite troops... including Cruz."

Ruhi’s soul, listening intently within, reacted instantly to the name. A wave of fiery determination surged through her. She couldn’t suppress the emotion. "Cruz... He betrayed my family and my sect," she said, her voice resolute. "Navrat, I don’t care what you plan, but Cruz is mine. I will avenge my father and everyone he betrayed."

Navrat smiled faintly at her conviction. "Don’t worry, Ruhi. He’s all yours." Turning back to Oni, he issued his command. "Rest for now. Once the tournament ends, prepare for our next steps."

"As you command, Master," Oni replied, bowing once more before vanishing as suddenly as he had appeared.

Navrat turned his attention inward, addressing Ruhi. "Be careful, Ruhi. I don’t doubt your skills, but Ashant is different. His aura is not normal—there’s something wrong with him. I’ve suspected it for some time, but now it’s undeniable. Prepare yourself."

Ruhi’s voice was steady, her resolve unshaken. "Don’t worry. I’ll make him pay for what he’s done. I’ll ensure he can’t even stand, let alone lead an army."

Satisfied, Navrat relinquished control, and Ruhi returned to her meal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the battles ahead.

The sun rose over the arena, bathing it in golden light. The spectators were already gathering, their excitement palpable. The commentator’s voice boomed through the air, reigniting the crowd’s fervor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final day of this extraordinary tournament! Today, we witness the culmination of countless battles, the clash of titans, and the rise of a true champion!"

The crowd roared in response, their cheers echoing across the vast arena.

"Our finalists have proven themselves time and again, overcoming incredible odds to reach this stage. But only one will emerge victorious!" The commentator paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "Without further ado, let’s welcome our finalists to the arena!"

Zashia stepped into the arena, her calm demeanor masking the fire within. Across from her, Ashant strode forward, his presence dark and foreboding. His confident smirk sent ripples of tension through the crowd.

The stage was set, and the final showdown was about to begin.

The crowd’s roar echoed throughout the colossal arena, reaching a fever pitch as the commentator’s voice announced the final battle. “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we’ve all been waiting for! The grand finals of this monumental tournament! Ashant of the Heaven Sky Sect versus Zashia, the mysterious and rising star! Prepare yourselves for an unforgettable clash!”

Ashant stepped into the arena first, his usual arrogance radiating off him like a dark flame. The way he moved was calculated, his confidence unwavering as if the match had already been decided. He carried an aura that was unnerving, a blend of strength and something more sinister lurking beneath the surface. His smirk grew wider as he caught sight of Zashia stepping forward.

Ruhi, under the guise of Zashia, appeared calm and resolute. Her energy was steady, but there was an underlying sharpness in her gaze. As she approached, she conjured a pure white sword from her energy, a move so simple yet so graceful it drew audible gasps from the audience. The purity of the blade contrasted sharply with Ashant’s menacing presence.

“This will be over quickly,” Ashant said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Try not to disappoint me.”

Ruhi said nothing, merely raising her sword. Her silence was more cutting than any retort, and it clearly irritated Ashant. The referee’s hand dropped, signaling the start of the fight.

Ashant moved first, his figure a blur as he closed the distance between them with startling speed. He unleashed a flurry of swift strikes, his blade glowing faintly with the power of Heaven Sky’s unique energy techniques. Each strike was precise, aimed at testing Ruhi’s defenses. She parried and deflected each blow with practiced ease, her footwork a dance of precision and grace.

“Is that all you have?” Ashant taunted, his strikes growing more forceful.

Ruhi responded with a series of counters, her sword movements fluid and unpredictable. She weaved through Ashant’s attacks, her blade finding small openings and forcing him to retreat. The audience watched in awe as the fighters moved like two forces of nature, clashing and recoiling in a mesmerizing display of skill.

Ashant’s expression darkened as he realized her strength was no fluke. He increased the intensity of his attacks, infusing his strikes with bursts of energy that sent ripples through the air. Ruhi met his challenge head-on, her white sword glowing brighter as she deflected each energy-laden strike. The sound of their blades colliding echoed like thunder, drawing gasps from the crowd.

As the fight escalated, both fighters began to reveal more of their true prowess. Ruhi shifted her stance, transitioning into the Dancing Butterfly footwork she had perfected under Ahoshin’s tutelage. Her movements became unpredictable, each step light and precise, making her appear as if she were gliding across the battlefield. She closed the distance between them in an instant, her sword delivering a series of rapid slashes that forced Ashant on the defensive.

Ashant countered with an explosive burst of energy, creating a shockwave that momentarily disrupted Ruhi’s rhythm. He took advantage of the opening, launching a series of devastating strikes that seemed to cut through the air itself. Ruhi deflected them narrowly, her white sword humming with energy as it absorbed the impact.

The fight grew more intense, their blades moving so quickly they became blurs. Sparks flew with each collision, and the arena floor began to crack under the sheer force of their battle. The audience was on the edge of their seats, mesmerized by the spectacle. The sect leaders watched with narrowed eyes, their expressions a mix of awe and concern.

Ashant suddenly stepped back, his smirk returning as he raised his sword high. “It’s time to end this,” he declared. The air around him grew heavy, and a brilliant blue light began to gather around his blade.

“Behold,” he said, his voice resonating with power, “Blue Heaven Godlight!”

The energy radiating from his sword was immense, causing the very space around it to warp and ripple. The light grew brighter, illuminating the entire arena as he swung his sword downward. A massive wave of energy shot forth, tearing through the air with a deafening roar and shaking the arena to its core.

Ruhi didn’t flinch. She extended her hand, summoning the power she had kept hidden for so long. A black orb began to form in her palm, its surface swirling with an ominous energy that seemed to devour the light around it.

“Calamity Art: Origin of Destruction,” she whispered, her voice steady. The orb grew to the size of a fist, its energy dense and terrifying.

As Ashant’s attack neared, Ruhi hurled the black orb forward. The two attacks collided with a thunderous explosion, the force of the impact shaking the entire arena. The ground cracked, and a shockwave rippled outward, sending spectators’ hair flying and causing weaker cultivators to shield themselves. The light and darkness seemed to battle for dominance, each struggling to overwhelm the other.

When the dust settled, Ashant was pinned to the ground, his sword shattered beside him. Ruhi stood tall, her breathing heavy but her expression calm. Blood trickled down her arm, a testament to the power of Ashant’s attack, but she had emerged victorious.

The commentator’s voice boomed, “And the winner is—”

A dark aura suddenly erupted from Ashant’s body, silencing the arena. The energy was oppressive, unlike anything anyone had felt before. The sect leaders sat up in alarm, their faces pale.

“This isn’t normal,” Fanif said, his voice tinged with worry.

Keal, too, looked troubled. “Damn it, he’s losing control.”

Ashant’s eyes turned black, and a dark green core emerged from his chest, pulsating with an eerie light. A devilish voice echoed from within him, sending chills down the spines of everyone present.

“Art of Darkness: Eminent God Light!”

The attack erupted from Ashant, a beam of pure darkness that tore through the arena with terrifying speed. The sect leaders, including Xia, prepared to intervene, but the attack was too fast.

As the smoke cleared, the audience gasped. Blue swords, ethereal and radiant, surrounded Ruhi, shielding her from harm. Navrat had acted in an instant, switching control to protect her. His voice, emotionless and steady, echoed through the arena.

“Vicral Sword Technique,” he said, the words resonating with power.

Ruhi’s body moved with inhuman grace as a pair of wings formed on her back, shimmering with a dark yet beautiful light. She extended her hand again, conjuring a larger black orb.

“Calamity Art: Origin of Destruction,” she intoned, her voice devoid of emotion.

The orb shot forward, colliding with Ashant and obliterating the dark green core. He was thrown against the arena wall, his body crumpling as the dark aura dissipated.

Keal appeared in an instant, stopping Navrat’s swords from delivering a killing blow. The two locked eyes, Keal’s calm demeanor faltering under Navrat’s piercing gaze.

“Ashant retreats,” Keal declared, his voice steady but strained. “You’ve hidden your power well, Zashia. But remember, there are limits to what can be tolerated in this arena.”

Navrat smirked through Ruhi’s body. “True, but as far as I know, the rules allow any power within the age limit. Artifacts, however, are another matter. Perhaps Ashant has some explaining to do.”

The arena fell silent as the Heaven Sky Sect’s influence ensured Ashant wasn’t disqualified. Zashia was declared the winner, and she received her prize—glory, wealth, and weapons. But Navrat was uneasy. He was certain Xia had recognized the Vicral Sword Technique. It was only a matter of time before she sought answers.

Later that night, as Ruhi rested, a radiant purple light filled her room. Xia’s ethereal form appeared, her eyes sharp and filled with emotion.

“Who are you?” Xia demanded. Her presence

was overwhelming, and Ruhi instinctively knelt under the pressure. Her breathing was shallow, and the weight of Xia’s aura pressed down on her like a physical force.

“I asked you a question,” Xia repeated, her voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. “Who are you, and how do you know the Vicral Sword Technique?”

Ruhi’s mind raced. Navrat’s earlier instructions echoed in her thoughts: Stay calm. Deny everything convincingly. She must not suspect the truth.

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” Ruhi stammered, her voice trembling but steady enough to sound genuine. “I’m just a disciple who stumbled upon an ancient manual in the Life and Death Palace.”

Xia’s eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable. Her ethereal form glowed brighter, and the pressure in the room intensified. “The Vicral Sword Technique isn’t something you just ‘stumble upon.’ It’s a technique that has been lost for centuries, known only to…” She trailed off, her gaze sharpening as realization flickered across her face.

Ruhi, feeling the weight of Xia’s scrutiny, maintained her composure. “I swear, I don’t know anything more,” she said, her voice pleading. “The manual was incomplete. I only managed to learn fragments of it.”

Xia stepped closer, her form towering over Ruhi. Her presence was both regal and terrifying, like a judge passing a sentence. “You’re not lying,” she murmured, more to herself than to Ruhi. “Your energy flow is stable… But something doesn’t add up.”

Ruhi stayed silent, her head bowed as if in submission. Inside, Navrat was alert, his energy coiled and ready to intervene if Xia pressed further.

After a tense silence, Xia sighed and withdrew some of her aura, though her gaze remained piercing. “If what you say is true, then the Life and Death Palace holds secrets even I was unaware of. But if I find out you’re hiding anything…”

“I’m not,” Ruhi interrupted, her voice more assertive than before. “I’ve told you everything I know.”

Xia’s expression softened slightly, though her suspicion lingered. “Very well,” she said, her tone grudging. “For now, I’ll believe you. But tread carefully. The Vicral Sword Technique isn’t just a weapon—it’s a legacy. And legacies have a way of attracting unwanted attention.”

With that, Xia’s form began to fade, her presence dissipating like mist in the morning sun. Just before she disappeared completely, she added, “We’ll meet again.”

As the room returned to its normal state, Ruhi collapsed onto her knees, her body trembling from the encounter. Navrat’s voice echoed in her mind, calm and reassuring. “Well done, Ruhi. You handled that perfectly. She suspects nothing for now.”

Ruhi exhaled a shaky breath and whispered, “But for how long?”