"This pathetic wretch lacks the fortitude to defend his own honor, yet he procures some arrogant bastard to articulate his grievances." The stranger's voice dripped with such vitriolic ridicule and humiliation that the surrounding crowd began to whisper and snicker among themselves, their collective murmur like the buzzing of carrion flies. Seeing Xan stepping into the fray, Mulo attempted to de-escalate the volatile situation with desperate diplomacy. "Old acquaintance, we have not gathered here to engage in conflict." "Hahaha! Since when did I become your acquaintance? You two, terminate their existence!" The elderly man barked a merciless order to the masked assassins clad in obsidian robes standing in front of him. "Mr. Wang, it is advisable that you do not entangle yourself in this; their aggression is perpetual..." Mulo whispered urgently, his voice trembling with apprehension. Although Xan Li Fang generally harbored a disdain for interfering in the extraneous affairs of others, he possessed a burning, insatiable desire to test the metaphysical transmutations within his own somatic vessel. Recalling Mulo's earlier assertion—that there were merely seven Second Step Cultivators in the entire kingdom—he felt forced to ascertain his precise standing within this martial hierarchy.
"You senile relic, allow me to instruct you on the proper reverence due to your progenitor." As the words departed his lips, a terrifying surge of energy detonated from Xan's core, causing arcs of crimson lightning to crackle violently around his footsteps, scorching the earth with every calculated movement. He resembled a deity descending from the celestial sphere to judge the mortal coil, his eyes glowing with a piercing, ethereal luminescence while a massive Yin-Yang Formation manifested behind his dorsal spine, rotating with a slow, hypnotic majesty. The spectators gasped in collective shock, for in this realm, the manifestation of an external Power Formation was a feat achievable only by a Late Stage First Step Cultivator or an Early Stage Second Step Cultivator. The old man gritted his teeth, refusing to retreat despite the overwhelming pressure. "Attempting to play the phantom before me... Bloody Death Dragon!" With a guttural roar, a colossal, twenty-meter-long dragon materialized from thin air, radiating a suffocating aura of necrosis and sanguinary violence as it loomed over Xan, poised to strike. Yet, Xan remained as tranquil as a stagnant lake, gazing upward at the beast with profound indifference. "You, dragon... Genuflect before your ancestor."
Xan spoke softly, yet his voice carried an ancient, crushing gravitational weight as he unleashed the full magnitude of his pressure. The old man's eyes widened in abject horror. "It is Bloodline Suppression... An impossibility!" The atmospheric pressure became so immense that arterial blood began to pour from the old man's orifices, and the twenty-meter dragon whimpered pitifully before dissolving into mist under the sheer authority of Xan's lineage. Realizing the insurmountable chasm in their respective powers, the old man collapsed to his knees, trembling violently. "Young Master, we were in error! I beg for your benevolence!" "It is too late for contrition." Xan intensified the pressure. Boom! The old man's physical form could not withstand the compressive force and exploded instantly, his body shattering into a gruesome spray of organic fragmentation. "Let this serve as a pedagogical lesson," Xan stated coldly, offering no further eulogy. Mulo stood there, his jaw slack, completely paralyzed by the brutality and surgical efficiency of the execution. "Master Wang... you have my gratitude."
Approximately ten minutes later, the teleportation array roared to life, and in a blinding flash of spatial distortion, Xan and Mulo vanished, translocating directly to the capital city. The event left the surrounding crowd in a frenzy of speculation, for the mysterious youth with the Yin-Yang Formation had sparked an intense curiosity, prompting many observers to rush away immediately to report the emergence of this terrifying new expert to their respective sect patriarchs. Upon rematerializing, they found themselves situated directly within the precincts of the Lindao Royal Academy. Xan surveyed his surroundings, his eyes widening in astonishment genuine as the Academy revealed itself to be a massive and vibrant edifice. The architectural tapestry before him was a baffling yet majestic amalgamation of temporal styles; the stone columns and sweeping arches evoked the imperial grandeur of Ancient Rome, while the intricate, Cyclopean stonework of the curtain walls mirrored the precise, mortar-less engineering of the Incas. However, amidst this juxtaposition of ancient majesty, sleek, sharp vectors of twenty-first-century modernism were woven into the design, imbuing the entire campus with a unique, atemporal gravitas that defied chronological categorization.
"These construction styles... they evoke the Roman and Inca aesthetics I studied in the historical archives of Earth... Astounding!!!" Xan ruminated, unable to conceal his profound admiration. Although the teleportation array was located in the center of the academy's expansive training grounds, it was heavily fortified by a shimmering, semi-translucent membrane—a high-level Protection Spell. Beyond this barrier, the grounds were teeming with biological diversity; there were humans, naturally, but also entities exhibiting various mutations: some possessed iridescent scales, others bore additional appendages, and there were even best forms walking upright and conversing fluently in human tongues. "Had someone recounted such a narrative to me back home, I would have dismissed it as fiction; I would not have believed even my own mother," Xan mused, shaking his head in disbelief. "Mr. Wang, did you address me?" Mulo inquired, leaning in closer. "Ah, negative, it was nothing," Xan replied hastily. "I am merely awesome... the architectural synthesis here... it is profoundly intriguing."
Mulo nodded, gesturing toward the sprawling campus. "The Academy has assumed the responsibility of hosting this year's competition, an event convened every fifteen years wherein only cultivators under the age of twenty-five are permitted to participate; there are no restrictions regarding cultivation level, for strength is the solitary law." Xan frowned slightly. "Elder Mulo, how do they verify chronological age? Surely individuals attempt deception?" "Ha, ha, ha... I neglected to mention that detail," Mulo chuckled. "attend closely; the Academy possesses a Divine Artifact known as the Heavenly Age Calculator. In every competition, there are ancient monsters who attempt to suppress their cultivation and obfuscate their longevity to pilfer resources from the youth, but the Calculator perceives the annular rings of the soul, rendering deception impossible." "So... I am eligible to participate, correct?" Xan queried, for although he was twenty-four, the implications of his bloodline and the time dilation of his inter-dimensional travel gave him pause. "Theoretically, yes," Mulo confirmed.
Mulo continued his exposition as they traversed the grounds. "Although there are twenty-two academies within the nation, only four are equipped to host Major Class competitions of this magnitude; the others are insufficient in scale, and broad-scale tournaments held therein often devolve into chaos and disorder." "The First Class Academy dormitory is located on the western quadrant of the campus," Mulo stated, guiding Xan through the throng. "We shall be billeted in Building 3A, Room 324, and we will depart immediately upon the competition's conclusion." As they approached the residential, Xan scrutinized the architecture of the dormitory, noting that with its soaring spires and pointed, arched fenestration, it bore a striking resemblance to the historic district temples and ecclesiastical structures of Hungary. "The architects here seem to comprehend Earth's history with greater acuity than we do," Xan muttered to himself, a smirk playing upon his lips. They entered the building and ascended the staircase, the timber groaning softly beneath their boots, and navigated the labyrinthine hallways until they reached the threshold of Room 324. Just as Mulo reached for the handle, a voice arrested their motion. "Hey Mulo, have you arrived?" It was a gentle, mellifluous voice, echoing hauntingly from the terminus of the corridor.