The same thought struck all three at once: Darian, Seraphina, and Selene.
Darian's gaze lingered on the Dragon Assault Battle Formation scroll in his hands. The labels—dragon head, dragon body, dragon tail—meant little to him. What truly mattered was whether the three of them could fight in perfect harmony and unleash the formation's full, devastating power.
Yet as his eyes traced the lines of the diagram, something else caught his attention, a discovery that made his pulse quicken.
Across from him, Seraphina studied her own black scroll, her expression as unreadable as a frozen lake.
Selene's eyes flickered with a flash of arrogance before settling back into neutrality. In his heart, the decision had already been made: he would claim the position of dragon head. Strength was the only law he respected, and he would see to it that the other roles fell into place accordingly.
Just as Darian opened his mouth to speak, Seraphina's cool, steady voice cut through the tense air.
"I'll take the dragon tail."
The words landed like iron.
Selene froze. Even Darian's focus shifted, surprised by her choice.
The dragon tail was the most dangerous position, the one that bore the brunt of an enemy's counterattack. That she would volunteer for it stirred a faint respect in Darian toward this aloof young woman.
"Seraphina! Absolutely not," Selene snapped. "I'll lead as dragon head. You take the body. Darian," his sharp gaze locked on him, a mocking curve playing at his lips, "you'll be the dragon tail."
Darian smiled faintly. So that was it. Selene's posturing was nothing more than a veiled attempt to shield Seraphina. As for himself, dragon head, body, or tail, it made no difference.
Seraphina's tone turned frost-sharp.
"Selene, mind your tongue. Address me properly. My choices are mine alone. It's not your place to decide for me."
Even Darian felt the chill in her voice. Selene merely sighed, as though accustomed to her rebukes. But when his eyes returned to Darian, they held a heavy implication: step aside, and take the tail.
"Darian, relax," Selene said, voice dripping with condescension. "I won't let you get hurt. Stay behind me and Seraphina, do your part, and you'll be fine. And as a man, surely you're not shameless enough to fight a woman for her place?"
The words might have sounded protective to some, but to Darian, they were nothing more than a thinly veiled challenge. He had already swallowed one insult from this man; he wouldn't take another.
"Dragon body or dragon tail—neither is yours to assign," Darian replied evenly. "If we're trading places, then how about this: you take the tail, and I'll lead as dragon head. After all, I'm sure you wouldn't fight a woman for her position, would you?"
The barb was deliberate, his phrasing a sharp mirror of Selene's own words.
Selene's face hardened. How dare this newcomer, a man barely into the Soul Washing Realm, speak to him as an equal? Worse still, Seraphina's lips curved with the faintest trace of a smile, as though enjoying his loss of face.
His voice dropped to a cold edge. "Darian, I may have underestimated you. Let's see if your strength matches your tongue. Afraid?"
Darian's eyes narrowed, but before he could answer, Valtor's voice echoed in his mind.
Looks like you'll have to be the dragon head after all.
His expression shifted. Resolve flared in his gaze. In one smooth motion, he set aside the Seven-Star Refining Box and stepped forward.
"Three moves," he declared, his voice ringing across the square. "If I can't defeat you within three, I'll obey any order you give during the Hundred City Battle. If I win, I lead as dragon head and you take the tail. Do you dare?"
Selene's arrogance ignited like dry tinder struck by a spark. He barked a sharp laugh.
"Good! You've got guts, I'll give you that. Three moves it is!"
Even Seraphina's cool facade faltered; a flicker of interest lit her eyes. She knew Selene's strength well, but Darian's confidence was undeniable.
Valtor watched silently from the sidelines, approving. Geniuses rarely bowed to each other; it was better to settle matters with a clash of steel. Selene's arrogance made him unfit to lead the formation. This was the only way to settle the question—through combat.
Selene's deep silver Spirit Core flared behind him, radiating early Soul Washing Realm power.
"I'll give you the first strike," he said, voice dripping with superiority.
Darian's faint silver Spirit Core shimmered in response. He smiled.
"Better if you go first. If I start, you might not get the chance."
"Arrogant fool!" Selene's right hand surged with cloud-like energy, swelling into a five-pace-wide palm that struck from a shifting, unpredictable angle.
The Chaotic Cloud Piercing Heart Hand—his clan's supreme martial technique. Seventy percent of his strength, enough to crush most mid-stage cultivators.
But Darian didn't move.
Before the astonished eyes of both opponents, he let the strike land. The palm exploded in a muffled boom, clouds swirling thickly around him.
Then his voice cut through the mist like a blade.
"So this is your strength? Disappointing."
Golden Saint Dao battle energy erupted from him, shattering the massive cloud hand in an instant. He stood unharmed, eyes burning with quiet dominance.
Selene's composure cracked. "Impossible!"
"Second move!" Darian roared. "Chaotic Cloud Piercing Heart Hand—Calamitous Cloud Descent!"
The sky seemed to fall as a ten-pace-wide palm crashed down.
Darian answered with a laugh. "Perfect. Ground Fiend Tiger Strike—Break!"
A golden tiger's phantom burst from his fist, roaring as it tore the cloud palm apart, shockwaves rattling the stones beneath their feet. Force slammed into Selene, driving him back. Then the tiger's phantom leapt from the air, pouncing with killing intent.
"Final move!" Darian thundered. "Tiger Shatters the World—Selene, fall!"
"Damn you! Merging Cloud and Wind—Chaotic Cloud Rending Wind Hand!"
The two forces collided in a violent explosion of cloud, wind, and golden light.
When the haze cleared, one figure staggered and dropped to his knees. Selene, face pale, stared at Darian in disbelief.
"I… lost," he said hoarsely. "Darian, the dragon head, is yours."
Darian stood tall, the fading roar of the golden tiger still echoing in the air, while Seraphina watched him with eyes that now held something new.
Respect.