Lingxue stared
At the crater where Yunbei had landed.
The mountain had collapsed on him.
Dust still hung in the air.
But the silence
Was worse.
Was he alive?
Yunbei was mid-stage—
Step 602 of the demigod realm.
Shen Wuyin,
Plain and unattractive,
Stood at early-stage—
Step 589.
That kick
Shouldn't have landed.
Not like that.
Not with that finality.
Lingxue narrowed her eyes.
Either he was hiding his cultivation level—
Or something was wrong with the world.
She had dismissed him as trash.
No power.
No presence.
Just tall.
But now
She wasn't sure.
She glanced in his direction again.
He stood there—
Plain-looking face framed by a casual ponytail,
As if he hadn't noticed
The mountains he had just unmade.
His robes were pitch black,
Adorned with the image
Of a white dragon
Coiled quietly across the fabric.
Not roaring.
Not flying.
Just watching.
—
Then she looked past him
And saw two mountains, now incomplete—
Split cleanly
With a single, precise stroke.
It wasn't cracked.
It wasn't destroyed.
It had been removed.
—
She lowered her gaze.
The battlefield beneath her
Was crushed,
Not shattered clean—
Cracked deep.
Stone split in jagged lines,
Like the earth had flinched.
She was fortunate.
Her feet hadn't sunk.
Hadn't snapped.
Then the wind shifted.
It wasn't a gust.
It wasn't a howl.It was a force—
As if the world
Was remembering
It had once been whole.
A storm was approaching.
—
She clenched her fist.
Then her sword.
"I'm not scared of you.
You're a nobody.
Trash.
Nothing.
You might have value
If you were handsome.
But you're so plain-looking
It's disgraceful.
I admit you're strong.
But I won't admit defeat
To someone like you.
I won't ever see you
As worthy
Of someone like me."
She raised her blade.
"Just shut up and attack already.
You're wasting your voice—
And my time," I said.—
She attacked.
Her wings spread wide
As she flew,
Striking with elegant precision
And no hesitation.
She wasn't holding back.
She was trying to kill Shen Wuyin.
But he didn't dodge.
He met her assault
With offence,
Not defence.
His strikes were brutal.
Unrelenting.
She nearly lost her grip
On her sword.
In a single motion, he pinned her down, his foot pressing against her face."What's wrong? We're only getting started. Get up."
I pressed my foot harder against her, grinding her into the cracked earth. Then I drew my sword and slashed her cheek—clean, deliberate, just deep enough to mark her.
The blood hit the ground.
She screamed.
Not in pain—in fury.
Her body convulsed, wings flared wide, and the air shattered around her. Ice exploded outward in every direction. Her proper form emerged—the Ice Phoenix, radiant and merciless. The battlefield froze in an instant. No place was left untouched. Mountains, stone, sky—everything turned to frost.
I looked at her true form, and she spoke to me.
"How dare you touch my face with your sword! You're going to die for that, you unwanted, undesirable, unneeded man! You're a waste of space. Your bloodline deserves extinction."
I looked at her with dead, cold eyes. Then down. She collapsed, forced to the ground by the weight of my intent.
I raised my Black Dragon Sword for the finishing blow. I was ready to kill her.
My aura darkened. Cruel. Heavy. Absolute.
Lingxue flew into the sky, wings slicing the clouds. She summoned an ice hurricane, a spiral of frost and vengeance aimed straight at me.
I didn't move.
My sword ignited—pitch-black flames roared to life, devouring the air with a soundless scream. The ground cracked beneath me, veins of shadow fire racing outward like a remembered curse. Countless dark flames rose, massive and endless, surrounding me in a crown of ruin.
I stood at the centre of it all. Then the flames surged. They didn't roar—they arrived, sovereign and silent. Ice shattered first, collapsing into steam before it could mourn. The sky followed, peeled back like paper, its vastness consumed without ceremony. Stone, wind, memory—none were spared. Lingxue's hurricane dissolved mid-spin, reduced to vapor before it could finish its name.
Everyone I didn't care about ceased. Not slain. Not burned. Just gone—unwritten from existence, as if my indifference had become law.
There was no battlefield now—only Eternal Damnation.
Then she saw them—eyes like crimson voids, rimmed in black, burning with something older than rage. She looked up and saw my true form: the Black Dragon. I was larger than my dragon dread itself. My wings eclipsed the sky. My scales shimmered with ruin. My breath was silent. She didn't scream. She couldn't. I opened my mouth and swallowed her whole—one bite. No echo. No mercy. No trace.
Her sword was trembling in her hand.
No flames.
No dragon.
No ruin.
Just me.
Just her.
Just the moment before it all began.
She fell to her knees.
Her sword slipped from her hand.
I turned
And walked away.
Everyone else watched,
Confused.
To them,
Nothing had happened.
Just two cultivators
Standing still,
Locked in silence.
But they didn't see it.
They couldn't.
The fight had already happened—
Inside her mind.
I made her see it.
Every possibility.
Every cruelty.
Every way I could break her.
She lived it all.
And now
She knelt.—
The disciples were shouting again.
Accusations.
Protests.
The usual cowardice
Dressed as righteousness.
He must have cheated.
It's impossible.
Not again.
But the female Sect Master,
Gǔlóng Shu,
Didn't flinch.
"I said it before,
And I'll repeat it—
Shen Wuyin won fairly.
If you think otherwise,
Don't whine.
Face him.
Yourself.
Make your assumptions if you must,
But be ready to bleed for them."
The courtyard fell silent.
Not because they believed her—
But because Gǔlóng Shu
Had never spoken idly.
Her words were law.
And her silence
Was worse.
—
Velanisse Historia spoke,
Her voice raw
As she cradled her unconscious fiancé,
Dragged from the rubble
I'd kicked him into.
The mountain had collapsed on him.
That was no accident.
He was still alive.
Barely.
That, too,
Was intentional.—
My lover,
The Sect Master,
Gave the order.
Win.
Not idle.
Not restrained.
No more losing on purpose.
She wanted me crowned—
The number one disciple
Of the Black Dragon Sect.
So I obeyed.
Even though part of me
Wanted to stay quiet.
Let them underestimate me.
Let them believe
I was ornamental.
Forgettable.
Harmless.
I liked being beneath their notice.
It made the silence
Easier to control.
—
"I face you, Shen Wuyin,"
Velanisse Historia said,
Her voice sharp
With fury
And disbelief.
"I don't understand
How you keep winning
Without lifting a finger.
You beat my fiancé—
Cut his horns clean off
In his mythical ox form—
And still you stand there
Like it meant nothing."She stepped forward,
Cradling the broken body
Of the man she loved,
Eyes burning.
"I think someone's helping you.
Or worse—
You're hiding your true cultivation.
That's more cowardly
Than cheating.
Be a man.
Show us your real power."
Velanisse Historia turned to Lingxue,
Her best friend,
Still kneeling,
Eyes locked on the ground.
The silver hairpin had fallen—
Ice-blue strands spilt like frost
Across her shoulders,
Veiling her face.
She hadn't moved.
Hadn't spoken.
But something in her silence
Screamed.
Lingxue looked
Like she'd seen something
She wasn't meant to survive.
Then she raised her hand,
Trembling,
And pointed at me.
"What did you do to my friend?" she said.
"You beast of a man.
Look at her."
—
I looked at Velanisse Historia.
Her fury still simmering.
Her pride cracked,
But not broken.
"Are you going to face me or not?" I said.
"Stop wasting time.
Stand, or stay silent.
Or are you afraid
Of someone as plain-looking as me?"
I let the words settle.
Then added, quieter:
"Or is it worse than fear?
Do you think I'm cheating?
That I'm hiding something?
That I'm not what I seem?"—
Velanisse reached for her sword.
But Lingxue's hand shot out,
Gripping the hilt first—
Knuckles white,
Breath shallow,
As if the blade itself
Might anchor her to the world.
"Don't," Lingxue said,
Voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't face him.
You can't beat him."
She didn't look up.
Her hair still veiled her face.
But her words
Cut deeper than steel.
"He's a monster.
His potential—it's not just frightening.
It's wrong.
He looks plain, yes.
But don't underestimate him.
He made me see things
I wasn't meant to see.
Countless things."—
Velanisse knelt beside Lingxue,
Her sword forgotten.
She reached out,
But didn't touch her—
Afraid, perhaps,
That whatever Rén had shown her
Might bleed through skin.
Lingxue looked shattered.
Not wounded.
Not broken.
Just hollowed out.
The kind of silence
That doesn't come from fear—
But from knowing too much.
Velanisse had never seen her like this.
Lingxue, the proud one.
The arrogant one.
The woman who chose
Who to love,
Who to ruin,
Who to make feel seen.
She was always in control—
Of her words,
Her gaze,
Her gravity.
Now
She couldn't even lift her head.
Whatever Rén had made her see,
It had stripped her of that power.
And Velanisse,
For the first time,
Didn't know how to protect her.—
"I have to face him," Velanisse said,
Voice trembling
With fury
And resolve.
"For my fiancé's dignity.
For yours.
For mine.
I won't lose this time—
I can't.
If I do,
It won't just be defeat.
It'll ruin everything we are."
She stood.
Chin lifted.
Eyes burning.
"We're cultivators of station.
Princesses of our clans.
And my fiancé—
He's meant to be emperor someday.
If I don't stand now,
What does that make us?
What does that make me?"
Lingxue said nothing.
She knelt
Like a sculpture carved from frost—
Unmoving.
Untouched.
Her thick ice-blue hair
Spilled over her face,
Veiling her expression
In silence.
But her posture—
Kneeling,
Head bowed,
Body angled toward Shen Wuyin—
Was deliberate.
She wasn't broken.
She wasn't begging.
She was bearing witness.
—
Velanisse saw it then.
Lingxue, the proud one.
The woman who bent others with a glance.
Who chose who to love.
Who to ruin.
Now she knelt
Before the plain-looking man
She once mocked—
As if silence
Were the only language left to her.
And Shen Wuyin
Said nothing.—
"I don't know what you did to my best friend,"
Velanisse said,
Voice sharp with fury,
"But I won't let you walk away untouched."
She stepped forward,
Eyes locked on Shen Wuyin.
"You might be a cultivator.
I can't even guess your age from a glance.
But in my eyes,
You're just a boy.
Not a man.
A man has status.
Strength.
Beauty.
You have none of it."
She scoffed.
Bitter.
Proud.
"You cheat.
You hide.
The only thing you have is height.
You're the tallest person in this sect—
And that's the only good quality you've got.
At least you're not short."—
She released her spiritual pressure.
The air bent around her.
A spectre rose behind her—
Tall.
Proud.
Burning.
The Fire Lotus Spirit,
Shaped in her likeness,
Bloomed with fury.
Its sword descended—
A strike meant
To carve legacy
Into stone.
—
I didn't move.
I watched the blade fall.
Watched the spirit surge.
And lifted
My pinky finger.
That
Was enough.
The sword stopped mid-strike,
Frozen in the air
Like it had forgotten its purpose.
I controlled its power—
Not with force,
But with refusal.
It did nothing to the battleground.
No crater.
No flame.
Just a whisper of dust
Where impact should have been.
—
The silence that followed
Wasn't awe.
It was fear.
The kind
That rewrites reputations.
—
"No," she hissed,
Voice cracking
Under the weight of disbelief.
"You shouldn't be able to stop that attack.
My cultivation's at peak stage—
Step six hundred.
Yours is barely an early stage.
Five hundred and eighty-nine."
I didn't blink.
"Then you should've won," I said.—
Her spirit flickered.
The Fire Lotus behind her dimmed,
Uncertain.
She looked down
At the blade still hovering above my pinky—
Untouched.
Unfulfilled.
I flicked her Fire Lotus Spirit's sword away
With my pinky.
It spun.
Weightless.
Forgotten.
Before the echo of its failure
Reached the ground,
I flash-stepped behind her.
She didn't sense me.
Didn't know I'd moved.
I leaned close.
Breath brushing her ear.
She froze.
—
"Either admit defeat," I whispered,
"Or die by my sword."
She didn't speak.
"Death is allowed
That can be made an exception," I continued,
Voice low."Some here would welcome yours.
The ones you tormented.
The girls who envied your status.
Your fiancé.
Your beauty.
The men you rejected
For lacking what you crave—
Status.
Height.
Looks.
Raw cultivation."
Her spirit trembled.
"Even my master—
The Sect Master of Blackdragon Sect—
Would let me walk away from this.
Even your family,
Rulers of an empire,
Wouldn't touch me.
Not with our sect alliance.
Not to save their little princess."
I stepped back,
Letting silence
Do what power couldn't.
She swung her sword at me.
Her hand collapsed.
Not with a technique.
Not with a gesture.
Just intent.
No structure.
No resistance.
Just skin
Hanging limp
Where power used to live.
She screamed.
Her thick orange hair
Fell across her face,
Then caught fire—
Not from flame,
But from terror.
The blaze
Was her fear,
Lit from within.
She screamed again.Then—
Velanisse Historia
Opened her eyes.
None of it had happened.
Lingxue was still kneeling.
Silent.
Her posture
Directed toward Shen Wuyin.
The battlefield hadn't moved.
No fire.
No broken bones.
Just breath
And dust.
—
Velanisse looked at Shen Wuyin.
Still,
She didn't see herself
In his eyes.
That
Pissed her off.
It wasn't rejection.
It was erasure.
Like he saw
No value in her.
No weight.
No consequence.
How dare he.
She shifted,
Ready to try again.
To summon.
To strike.
To force recognition.
Lingxue stopped her.A hand.
Light
But firm.
No words.
Velanisse turned.
She couldn't see Lingxue's expression—
Her hair veiled it.
But the message
Was clear.
Don't try it.
I beg you.
You've seen one possibility.
You don't want to see the others.
—
But that didn't stop her.
Velanisse tried again.
And again.
A hundred times more.
Until,
Like Lingxue before her,
She finally knelt.
Hair dishevelled.
Face veiled.
Breath shallow.
The battleground didn't roar.
It watched.
—
The disciples of the sect
Looked at Rén.
They said nothing.I left the arena
Without ceremony.
I waited.
I wasn't called again
For a long time.
Eventually,
He was.
This time,
By another woman.
Rén showed no mercy.
He didn't use techniques.
He didn't summon spirits.
He beat her
In hand-to-hand combat—
Precise.
Relentless.
Unyielding.
She was flung into the trees,
Her body vanishing into the canopy
With a sound like thunder.
The elders
Had to retrieve her themselves.
She'd flown too far.—
Eventually,
Only ten remained.
Ten contenders
For the Number One Disciple title.
Three defeats
Meant disqualification.
No exceptions.
No appeals.
The rules
Were carved into the sect's foundation—
Older than any elder
Still breathing.
The ones left were:
• Me
• Velanisse Historia
• Lingxue
• Princess Lianhua Tianchen
• Prince Mingyu Tianchen
• Yunbei
• Gao Yun
• Mianmian
• One other man
• One other woman
—
Each carried their myth.
Some were born into legacy.
Others clawed their way up
From silence.
But none of that mattered now.
The battleground
Didn't care about bloodlines
Or beauty.
It only remembered
Who knelt—
And who didn't.
—
I watched Gao Yun
Win his match
Against the other woman—
Clean.
Efficient.Forgettable.
Then Mianmian stepped forward
And beat the remaining man
With a technique
That left no room for doubt.
Next came Princess Lianhua Tianchen.
She faced Yunbei.
He won.
Then her brother
Stepped into the arena.
He lost
To Velanisse Historia.
Brutally.
—
Eventually,
It was my turn.
I stood
Across from Lingxue.
She had changed.
The arrogance had returned—
Not the brittle kind
She wore before.
But something sharper.
More wary.
She didn't look at me
Like I was trash anymore.
Not just a plain-looking boy
With no value.
That gaze
Was gone.
She had seen something.
And now
She knew better.
I was impressed.She wasn't as weak-minded
As I thought.
We were the last two.
I hadn't lost a single round.
She'd lost twice—
But never the same way.
She spoke again.
Voice low.
Brittle with pride.
"I underestimated your potential.
It's monstrous.
I don't know what I saw in you—
But you're not from here.
And I won't allow someone
Who doesn't belong
To walk into my home.
My realm.
You're plotting something.
I know it.
And I don't trust you."
—
Her words
Weren't just defiance.
They were fear
Wrapped in arrogance.
She'd seen something in me
She couldn't name.
And now
She needed to make it mine.
To make it foreign.
To make it wrong.
But she was
Too late.
I already belonged.
She transformed again—
No hesitation.
No veil of civility.
The Ice Phoenix
Tore through her skin
Like memory through pride.
Wings unfurled
In jagged arcs of frost.
She didn't posture this time.
She attacked.
—
Icefire roared from her throat—
A breath that shattered the arena's edge
And summoned hurricanes
Of frozen wrath.
The sky dimmed.
The ground cracked.
It wasn't a duel anymore.
It was a reckoning.
An ice age,
Born of fury
And fear.
—
I stepped forward.
Not with defiance.
Not with rage.
With legacy.
I called upon the sword technique
Passed down from my other master,
Fairy Jin.
I whispered only once.
The Final Turn.—
She collapsed
Back into her human form.
Dishevelled.
Breath ragged.
Robes torn
But still clinging to dignity.
Scars laced her arms
Like frostbite etched in memory.
Her ice-blue hair
Fell across her face,
Half-shadowing
The fury in her eyes.
—
She looked at me
One final time.
Not with pride.
Not with fear.
With promise.
Her voice
Was cracked glass—
Sharp.
Fragile.
Already breaking.
But beneath it
Was something colder
Than vengeance.
Not rage.
Not grief.
Obsession.—
She hadn't lost the match.
She'd lost the illusion
That she understood me.
And now
She needed to rewrite the story.
Make me the villain.
Make herself the victim.
Make the pain
Mean something.
—
But I didn't answer.
Some truths
Don't need words.
I thought to myself:
Looks like I've met someone
You'd call a villainess.
Lingxue fits the mould—
Prideful.
Wounded.
Obsessed.
—
I turned
Without ceremony.
Lingxue collapsed behind me.
Unconscious.
Her breath
Shallow.
Her pride
Shattered.The frost
Still clung to her robes—
Torn but intact.
Dignity
Barely preserved.
Velanisse Historia and Yunbei
Rushed toward her.
Their footsteps
Frantic.
Their voices
Sharp with panic.
But I
Didn't look back.