Dawn cracked like flint on steel.
The arena—an ancient pit carved into the heart of the mountain—was alive with anticipation. Disciples packed the stands, elders lined the upper platforms, and in the center stood Kael, shirtless, barefoot, silent.
The earth beneath him was cold, but his blood burned.
"Let them come," he whispered.
First Fang – The Storm
His first opponent was Wei Zhen, known as the Wind Spear, a Second Ring prodigy who moved like lightning.
Wei Zhen twirled his silver spear, eyes gleaming.
"No grudge, Kael. Just following orders."
"Then don't expect mercy," Kael said simply.
The gong struck.
Wei lunged.
The spear came fast—Kael barely shifted, letting the edge graze his ribs. Blood spilled, but his hand snapped forward like a viper.
CRACK!
Kael seized the shaft mid-spin and yanked. Wei stumbled. A brutal knee met his chin.
The crowd gasped.
Kael didn't stop. He fought like instinct—knees, elbows, and palms. Brutal. Direct. Untamed.
Wei Zhen fell after six moves.
"First fang, broken," Kael muttered.
Second Fang – The Flame Flower
The next was Lan Mei, a beauty with a reputation for fire-based cultivation and poison-laced techniques.
She smiled coldly. "You fight like an animal."
Kael cracked his neck. "That's because I survived like one."
She struck fast—flames spun into lotus shapes, bursting midair. The heat seared Kael's skin.
But pain didn't slow him. It sharpened him.
He charged through the fire, ignoring the burning petals. Lan Mei's eyes widened—she didn't expect someone who welcomed pain.
"You call this fire?" Kael whispered, grabbing her wrist mid-strike.
He twisted, reversed her weight, and drove her to the ground.
One punch. Two. Three.
She lay unconscious. Her flame snuffed.
"Second fang," he said, panting, "snapped."
Third Fang – The Puppet Blade
Then came silence.
The third disciple walked out—Bai Ren, a masked swordsman known for never speaking. Some claimed he was half-machine. Others said he was blind, guided by spirit threads.
Kael felt something... wrong.
This one didn't fight for glory.
He fought to kill.
Blades clashed. Unlike the others, Bai Ren wasn't flashy. He was efficient. Deadly. A perfect counter to Kael's wild style.
Kael bled. Deep slashes opened along his arms and shoulders. He couldn't get close.
Then he remembered the words of the blind herbalist woman:
"Stone doesn't chase the wind. It waits. Let them fall into you."
So he waited.
He slowed down. Let the pain sharpen him. Let the blood draw the kill.
And when Bai Ren thrust—
SNAP!
Kael stepped into it.
Blade pierced his side—but his hand closed around Bai Ren's throat.
He grinned through the pain. "You forgot... I can bleed more than once."
He lifted Bai Ren and slammed him to the ground.
Once.Twice.Until the blade fell from the killer's hands.
The Verdict
Silence.
Three broken disciples. One bleeding, gasping victor.
Elder Yanshi stood, fury in his eyes. "You defy the order of this sect with your savagery."
Kael, still kneeling, looked up.
"No. I remind you what it took to build it."
The disciples in the crowd didn't cheer.
But something shifted.
Fear turned to awe.
Hate turned to silence.
And somewhere, behind the Elder Hall, a blind herbalist smiled softly.
"The beast is awake."