Three moves.
That was all it took.
In just three swift exchanges, Selene—proud and battle-hardened—was utterly defeated by a cultivator who had only just condensed his Spirit Core and barely stepped into the early stage of the Mortal Soul Cleansing Realm.
Had it not happened to him personally, Selene would never have believed such a thing possible.
His heart burned with unwillingness, yet he could not deny the truth. In those three moves, he was completely overwhelmed. Darian had claimed a decisive and unquestionable victory.
As Selene's face darkened and he struggled to rise, a steady hand reached out to him. It was Darian's.
Looking up, Selene met the eyes of the man who had bested him—not with mockery, but with genuine sincerity. Teeth clenched, he grasped Darian's hand and pulled himself to his feet.
Though standing, the storm in his gaze lingered—frustration, shock, helplessness—but slowly it cleared, replaced by something deeper: respect.
"Darian," he said in a low, solemn voice, "you are strong. I, Selene, accept defeat. From this day forward, in the Assault Dragon Battle Formation, you shall be the Dragon Head, Seraphina the Dragon Body, and I the Dragon Tail. In the Battle of the Thousand Realms, I will follow your command without question or chaos."
Each word landed like iron hammered into stone—true and unshakable.
Valtor watched quietly, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. This was Selene's nature. Arrogant, yes—always confident he stood above his peers—but he understood the law of strength. Defeat him honorably, and he would concede without resentment.
It was precisely why Valtor had chosen him. Darian had seen through him perfectly, using the three-move challenge not just to win, but to win in a way Selene could respect. First intimidation, then conciliation. The outcome was inevitable.
The greatest barrier between the three had been broken. Now, all that remained was to master the Assault Dragon Battle Formation.
Seraphina had believed Darian would prevail, but not so swiftly—three moves, so clean and decisive. Selene's strength rivaled her own, meaning Darian could likely defeat her just as quickly.
More than leadership, this victory gave Darian clarity about his own strength.
My Saint Dao battle qi far surpasses ordinary Yuan Power. Its density and destructive force are ten times that of half-step Yuan Power. Now, with my cultivation advanced, I can cross an entire major realm to overwhelm early-stage Mortal Soul Cleansing cultivators. And with the original blessing of the Warborn Covenant, I might even contend with mid-stage warriors.
Fighting across realms is my trump card.
From that day on, the three dedicated themselves to the formation. Mastery within twenty days would demand perfect unity—a seamless harmony of three minds and three bodies.
All grudges were laid aside. Only determination remained.
Three days later, Serene Plaza.
Darian led the front, Seraphina held the center, and Selene guarded the rear.
"Assault Dragon, position!"
His voice was low but firm. Instantly, Seraphina and Selene's eyes sharpened. Their steps wove intricate patterns around Darian's pivot, fluid and precise. His senses swept the space around them, body adjusting in sync—each motion a perfect thread in the tapestry of the formation.
"Formation rise. Assault Dragon, advance!"
They moved as one. Valtor's eyes glowed as the trio blurred into a ten-pace-long projection of shimmering light, shaped like a dragon—Darian the head, Seraphina the body, Selene the tail.
Three days of study had burned the formation's patterns deep into their minds. Even now, on their first real attempt, the formation held—raw but functional. Especially under Darian's steady guidance, correcting every subtle misstep before it could unravel their flow.
A faint dragon's roar echoed in the air—deep, fierce, edged with killing intent.
The word Assault in its name was no accident. This formation was built to unleash devastating power in one sudden strike.
"Assault Dragon Claw!"
Power surged through the array. Seraphina and Selene poured their strength into Darian in perfect rhythm. Golden light flared around him as his fists slashed forward like dragon talons.
Boom!
Stone cracked beneath the blow before the formation faltered and dissolved. Still, the force of that single strike left them all smiling—they had glimpsed its true potential.
They tried again. And again. And again.
Days passed.
On the twentieth day, the Assault Dragon Battle Formation roared to life at full strength.
"Assault Dragon Tail Sweep!"
Seraphina twisted sharply, redirecting the flow of power. Behind her, Selene dropped low, legs scissoring with crushing force, a crescent of golden energy tearing through the air.
Boom!
At the same moment, Selene pushed off Seraphina's waist, driving her palms into Darian's back. The Dragon Head shot upward, stomping down with their combined might.
"Assault Dragon Dark Fang Strike!"
The dragon-shaped light reared, claws slashing in a lethal arc.
Bang!
The stone slabs of Serene Plaza split and groaned beneath the impact. The formation dissolved seamlessly into a defensive stance—calm and unhurried.
"Excellent! Truly excellent!" Valtor's voice rang with pride. In twenty days, they had forged a weapon sharp enough for war.
The three broke formation, exchanging looks before Darian and Selene laughed aloud. Even Seraphina's usual cool lips curved in a rare, genuine smile.
"With this, Drakeflare City will have nothing to fear in the Battle of the Thousand Realms," Selene said quietly, confidence steady in his voice.
Valtor nodded approvingly. "You move as one. You attack, defend, and trust one another. That is the heart of a battle formation. Very good."
But Darian's mind was already looking forward.
A first-grade formation and already this powerful. What then must second- or third-grade formations be like?
His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"Rest tomorrow," Valtor commanded. "The morning after, I have a gift for each of you. Then we depart for the Battle of the Thousand Realms."
With a parting smile, he left them to their thoughts.
Darian exhaled deeply and reached inside his robes. His fingers closed around a blood-red, dragon-shaped jade pendant.
As he drew it forth, his gaze burned like fire—ready for whatever lay ahead.