The deep, resonant toll of the ancient bronze morning bell echoed powerfully across the misty mountain valleys surrounding the Sun-Moon Academy, its reverberations cutting through the cold dawn air to mark the official opening of the Outer Academy Grand Grounds.
In the span of two short days following the sudden, unexplained disappearance of Senior Disciple Lu and his enforcement squad within the lower gorge, the entire inner and outer rings of the academy had been placed under quiet, cautious alert. However, with thousands of eager outer disciples gathering at the central martial arena for the long-awaited Outer Academy Competition, the high elders had no choice but to relegate the missing patrol investigation to the background for the time being.
The grand arena was the ultimate spectacle of pride, ambition, and blood—an annual event where thousands of outer students fought savagely on public combat stages for high-tier cultivation resources, pill allocations, high-grade martial arts manuals, and the rare, life-changing opportunity to be noticed and selected by Inner Sect Elders as personal disciples.
Railin stepped out from the shadowy, winding entrance of the southern mountain path, his clean, crisp navy-blue outer disciple robes fluttering softly against the harsh, high-altitude wind.
Over the past forty-eight hours of silent, secluded isolation within the gorge, he had completely digested, purified, and integrated the rich, high-grade spiritual essence absorbed from Senior Disciple Lu. The massive energy had settled smoothly into his dantian, solidifying his foundation into an unshakeable, exceptionally dense core at the absolute peak of the Fifth Level of Spirit Refining. His physical body—tempered by spatial currents and devouring energy—was now as resilient as refined dark iron, while his spatial control over the lightning-fast shifts of The Seven Void-Severing Steps had achieved seamless, instinctive fluidity.
He walked with steady, measured, and completely relaxed steps toward the sprawling, crowded periphery of the grand arena.
Surrounding the ten massive stone combat rings were thousands of disciples, their excited chatter, shouts of bravado, and energetic cheering blending into a deafening, continuous roar that shook the surrounding pine forests. Flags bearing the golden crescent emblem of the Sun-Moon Academy snapped sharply in the wind above high wooden watchtowers.
Railin slowly scanned the central elevated dais, where the inner sect elders, administrative deacons, and high-ranking core disciples sat on carved stone seats covered in silk cushions.
Among them sat Senior Disciple Feng, the prominent, undisputed leader of the Outer Enforcement Hall. Feng was a tall, stern-visaged man in his late twenties, clad in luxurious purple robes trimmed with glittering golden thread. His gaze was as sharp and cold as a winter hawk, continuously sweeping over the vast crowd of disciples assembled below. Feng was Senior Disciple Lu's direct martial mentor, and whispers had already begun circulating among the lower halls that Feng was quietly furious over the vanishing of his top lieutenant in the lower pits.
Railin's lips curled into a faint, practically imperceptible smile. He casually walked toward the long, chaotic queues forming near the administrative registration desk at the base of the primary arena stairs.
"Name and Merit Token," the registration deacon barked dryly, not even troubling himself to look up from his wide leather-bound parchment ledger.
Railin reached inside his wide sleeve, pulled out the stolen copper merit token of Disciple Lin, and presented it forward on his open palm. Before arriving, he had used a minute thread of his dark Ashen Devouring Qi to subtly erase and overwrite the original soul-signature imprint on the copper surface, creating a subtle masking layer that prevented low-level detection artifacts from identifying the theft.
The deacon picked up a heavy wooden stamp engraved with an administrative array and slammed it onto the surface of the copper token.
BZZZZT!
A faint green light flashed across the metal surface. "Disciple Lin. Assigned to Combat Ring Number Four, Match Number Twelve," the deacon stated mechanically, tossing the token back across the desk. "Proceed immediately to the Ring Four waiting enclosure. A reminder to all participants: killing an opponent on the public arena stage is strictly prohibited by academy law. However, shattering a combatant's limbs, breaking their bones, or completely destroying their dantian during active battle is recognized as a valid tactical defeat. Next!"
Railin accepted the warm copper token, slipping it into his sash, and walked smoothly through the parted crowd toward the designated waiting area surrounding Ring Four.
All around him, outer disciples were warming up, drawing polished spirit steel blades, stretching their limbs, and uttering anxious prayers. Most of them were hovering between the Third and Fourth Levels of Spirit Refining, loudly boasting about their noble family backgrounds or eagerly showing off shiny, low-tier spirit swords. To Railin's ancient, sovereign perspective, their shallow pools of unrefined spiritual energy were nothing more than appetizers waiting to be harvested.
"Listen up, you miserable weaklings!" a loud, booming voice suddenly shattered the restless murmurings near Ring Four.
A towering, broad-shouldered youth with dark leather-like skin, massive vein-covered arms, and a brutal, six-foot-long spiked iron club strapped across his muscular back stepped into the center of the waiting enclosure. He wore a dark red sleeveless vest that exposed heavy scars across his chest, radiating the oppressive, heavy pressure of a true Sixth Level Spirit Refining cultivator.
"I am Iron-Crusher Meng!" the massive youth declared arrogantly, lifting his heavy iron club off his back and slamming the blunt butt of the weapon violently onto the stone floor, causing a localized tremor that rattled the armor of nearby disciples. "Ring Four belongs entirely to me this year! Any weakling below the Fifth Level who dares step into the combat ring with me had better throw down their merit token and forfeit immediately! If you don't, I will crush your ribs into wet powder!"
Several lower-level disciples flinched violently, instinctively taking two quick steps backward in visible fear. Meng was infamous throughout the outer halls for his sadistic, incredibly brutal fighting style—he took pleasure in permanently crippling his opponents' limbs before tossing them out of the ring.
Railin stood leaning casually against a thick stone pillar at the quiet rear of the enclosure, his arms folded loosely across his chest, his eyes half-closed in silent, meditative focus. He paid Meng's loud threats no more attention than he would pay the meaningless buzzing of an annoying summer fly.
"Match Number Twelve! Ring Four!" the arena referee announced from the elevated stone judging platform, his voice magnified by a speech array. "Disciple Meng versus Disciple Lin!"
Iron-Crusher Meng let out a loud, guttural laugh, unhooking his massive spiked club with a single hand. "Looks like I got a brave little mouse for my morning warm-up!" Meng roared, leaping over the heavy perimeter barrier with explosive force and landing in the center of the ring with a deafening BOOM that shattered the stone tiles beneath his boots.
Railin slowly opened his eyes. He uncrossed his arms, stepped casually over the low wooden barrier, and walked onto the wide stone stage with smooth, measured grace.
The crowd gathered around the perimeter of Ring Four cheered loudly, eager for a bloody, one-sided spectacle.
"That skinny kid wearing Lin's token must be out of his mind!" a spectator shouted from the stands. "He didn't even draw a blade or put on leather armor! Meng is going to flatten him into meat paste within three moves!"
The arena referee looked back and forth between the massive, steel-armored giant and the slender, completely unarmed youth standing calmly in navy-blue robes.
"Match Twelve... Begin!" the referee shouted, sweeping his arm downward.
"DIE, YOU MOUSE!"
Iron-Crusher Meng didn't hesitate for a single microsecond. Channeling his dense, earth-attribute brown spirit qi into his legs and arms, he lunged forward like an enraged, unstoppable wild bull. He raised his heavy, spiked iron club high above his head with both hands, bringing it down in a terrifying, vertical strike aimed straight at Railin's skull!
"Earth-Shattering Strike!" Meng bellowed, the violent wind pressure generated by the heavy weapon whistling loudly through the air.
The crushing blow was exceptionally fast for a heavy weapon, packing enough brute physical impact to split a solid granite boulder into fragments.
Yet, Railin stood completely still, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, his expression unbothered even as the heavy spiked club descended to within three inches of his forehead.
SWISH.
Railin's physical form suddenly dissolved into a translucent, flickering shadow.
The heavy spiked club slammed with terrifying force into the hard stone arena floor where Railin had been standing a fraction of a second prior.
BOOM!
A violent explosion of stone fragments and dust shot out in all directions, creating a two-foot-wide crater in the ring floor.
"What?!" Meng bellowed in utter disbelief, his eyes widening as his powerful strike met nothing but empty air and a fading dark afterimage. "Where did the bastard go?!"
"You are agonizingly slow," a cold, silk-smooth voice whispered directly behind Meng's left ear.
Meng's blood instantly ran ice-cold. Driven by raw combat instinct, he frantically tried to spin his giant body around, swinging his heavy spiked club in a wild, horizontal reverse sweep to clear his backline!
PAK!
Railin didn't even bother utilizing his agility technique to dodge the incoming sweep. He simply extended his bare left hand, catching the heavy, sharp-spiked head of the metal club mid-swing with his open palm!
BANG!
The entire surrounding audience around Ring Four went dead silent.
The violent shockwave of the physical impact blew Railin's navy-blue robes backward, but his left arm remained completely rigid, his bare fingers locked tightly onto the sharp iron spikes without a single drop of blood being drawn from his skin. He held the massive, several-hundred-pound club completely motionless in the air as if it were nothing more than a light wooden twig.
"I-Impossible...!" Meng gasped, his eyes bulging out of his head as he pulled back on the handle with every ounce of his Sixth Level strength. The club didn't move a millimeter. "What kind of terrifying physical strength is this?!"
"Your energy is completely unrefined and wasteful," Railin said softly, his pitch-black eyes locking onto Meng's trembling face. "Allow me to cleanse it for you."
"Devour."
BZZZZZZZZT!
A thick wave of dark, violent Ashen Devouring Qi erupted from Railin's palm, instantly enveloping the spiked iron club and sweeping up the metal shaft directly into Meng's hands and wrists.
"ARGHHHHHHHHHH!"
Iron-Crusher Meng let out a blood-curdling scream of pure agony that echoed across the entire grand arena. The dark energy forced its way into his arms, violently tearing through his meridians and forcibly extracting his Sixth Level spirit qi like a ravenous parasite. His massive, muscular arms shriveled at a visible rate, his skin turning dry and grey as his physical strength was ruthlessly siphoned away into Railin's internal core.
Because they were standing on a public arena stage under the watchful eyes of thousands of spectators and high elders, Railin refrained from draining Meng into a completely dried corpse as he had done in the dark gorge. Instead, he absorbed just enough energy to shatter Meng's dantian and permanently erase his cultivation base.
CRACK!
Railin effortlessly tore the spiked club out of Meng's weak, shriveled grip, flipped it casually in his hand, and slammed the flat end of the shaft directly into Meng's chest!
BOOM!
The giant, weakened body of Iron-Crusher Meng flew backward across the combat ring like a broken ragdoll, crashing heavily over the perimeter barrier and landing unconscious in a cloud of dust.
Absolute, breathless silence reigned over Ring Four. The referee stood with his jaw dropped, staring in shock at Railin, who was standing casually in the center of the ring, holding the massive weapon for a brief moment before tossing it aside like useless garbage.
"Winner... Disciple Lin!" the referee finally stammered out, his voice trembling noticeably.
Railin didn't spare the audience or his fallen opponent a single glance. He turned on his heel, adjusted his navy-blue robes, and walked calmly off the stage back toward the quiet shadows of the waiting area.
High up on the grand elevated seating platform, Senior Disciple Feng's sharp eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he watched Railin step down from Ring Four. Feng's brow furrowed with deep, intense suspicion. With his high-level cultivation, he had caught the faint, sinister pulse of dark energy that had crippled Meng's dantian in an instant—an energy signature that felt unnervingly similar to the strange remnants discovered near the missing patrol trails.
"You," Senior Disciple Feng commanded coldly to a junior enforcement guard standing behind his carved chair. "Go to the administrative hall immediately and re-verify every detail in Disciple Lin's official file. If there is even a single discrepancy... bring that youth to my private quarters the moment his next match concludes."
Down below, Railin felt the sharp, probing soul-scan sweeping across his back from the high seating platform.
He did not turn around. A cold, dark smile played across his lips as he found a quiet corner to sit cross-legged and meditate.
The Outer Academy Competition had only just begun, and the grand arena was setting itself up to be an absolute, unprecedented feast.
See you in next chapter....