The translucent, crimson glow of the Life-and-Death barrier did not simply fade; it fractured into thousands of glittering, blood-colored embers that hissed as they hit the damp morning air. A heavy, suffocating silence descended over the grand central arena of the Sun-Moon Academy, thick enough to choke the breath from the throats of the gathered crowd. Thousands of disciples—ranging from humble outer sect runners to elite core disciples from the Four Great Peaks—stood frozen like stone statues. Their wide, horrified eyes remained locked onto the black basalt stage, unable to process the divine tragedy that had just unfolded before them.
On the shattered, grooved stone floor, Feng Wushuang lay motionless, resembling nothing more than a discarded, threadbare rag. His once-glorious golden-scaled armor—a precious High-Human rank defensive artifact forged from deep-sea iron—was now cracked, tarnished, and drained of its metallic luster. His long, dark hair, which had shone with the vibrant vitality of a Third Level Foundation Establishment genius just moments ago, was now a dry, brittle, stark white. The proud, untouchable sun of the Imperial Dragon Peak had been utterly extinguished. He lay in his own sweat and grime, breathing in shallow, wheezing gasps, his meridians permanently ruptured and his cultivated spirit sea completely, ruthlessly drained into nonexistence.
In the absolute center of the ruined arena, Railin stood tall, his navy-blue robes snapping softly against the mountain wind. He calmly raised his hands, smoothing out the minor creases in his wide sleeves with methodical, unhurried precision. His pale skin radiated a faint, translucent sheen, and beneath his ribs, his lower dantian hummed with a terrifying, solid resonance. The chaotic, volatile spirit energy he had forcibly torn from Feng Wushuang had already been forcibly subdued, compressed, and forged into a rotating, liquid-solid sphere of pitch-black void power. He was no longer a mere Spirit Refining mortal clinging to the edges of the academy. He stood as a true, undeniable First Level Foundation Establishment master.
"The duel... is officially concluded," Grand Elder Lu's booming voice thundered from the upper sky, shattering the spell that held the crowd in awe.
The Chief Overseer of the Life-and-Death Pavilion stepped through the open air, his deep purple robes billowing around him as his feet touched the fractured stone. His ancient, sharp eyes swept over Railin, glinting with a complex mixture of cold warning, subtle dread, and profound curiosity.
"By the ancient, unyielding laws of the Sun-Moon Academy, the blood-soul debt between Railin and Feng Wushuang is settled in full," Elder Lu declared, his voice echoing off the surrounding cliff faces like rolling thunder. "The outcome is absolute. Disciples of the Imperial Dragon Peak... step forward and collect your defeated martial brother."
BOOM!
Before any of the trembling lower disciples could step near the stage, the sky directly above the central plaza violently ruptured. A monstrous, heat-filled aura plummeted from the crimson clouds like an erupting volcano. The sheer weight of the pressure shattered the remaining intact stone tiles along the spectator walkways, forcing hundreds of lower-realm disciples to drop to their knees, coughing up dark spray of blood from the pure, oppressive gravity.
Elder Feng, the Chief Grand Elder of the Imperial Dragon Peak and blood uncle to Feng Wushuang, descended from the highest floating pavilion. His face was distorted into a grotesque mask of raw, murderous hatred. His skin burned with a deep, reddish-gold hue, and his eyes resembled two swirling vortexes of molten lava. The atmosphere around his body rippled and distorted wildly under the terrifying, unrestrained aura of a Late-Stage Core Formation sovereign.
"You venomous, bloodthirsty monster..." Elder Feng's voice did not sound human; it was a low, guttural snarl that vibrated directly within the soul-seas of everyone present. "You used a forbidden, demonic technique to strip him of his life's work! You dare murder his cultivation and cripple a core pillar of my Imperial Dragon Peak under the sacred banner of an academy duel?!"
The oppressive weight of the Core Formation pressure crashed directly onto Railin's shoulders like a falling mountain. The ground beneath Railin's boots groaned, small spiderweb cracks fanning out around his feet. Yet, Railin's spine remained straight as an ancient spear. He slowly raised his head, his pitch-black, bottomless eyes meeting the terrifying, molten gaze of the Core Formation elder without a single flicker of fear, hesitation, or regret.
"Demonic technique?" Railin spoke, his tone smooth, icy, and entirely devoid of emotion. His voice was not loud, yet it pierced through the heavy aura like a steel blade, reaching every corner of the silent plaza. "Elder Feng seems to suffer from a sudden lapse of memory. The blood-soul contract we both signed explicitly stated that all techniques, all secret methods, and all killing arts were permitted within the boundaries of the ring. When Senior Disciple Feng attempted to tear my soul apart and erase my existence with his Heaven-Piercing Dragon Strike, did Elder Feng cry out against his cruelty? Did you call his bloodlust demonic? Or is a technique only classified as 'demonic' when the arrogant dogs of the Imperial Dragon Peak are the ones being slaughtered?"
"Insolent, lowborn worm! You court death!"
Elder Feng roared in blind fury, completely losing his composure. He raised his massive right palm, and the surrounding spirit qi instantly condensed into a twenty-foot-wide hand of solid, blazing golden fire. The heat was so intense that the wooden banners along the spectator balconies instantly burst into flames. He thrust his hand downward, aiming to incinerate Railin into nothingness right where he stood!
"Feng! Have you lost your mind?!"
SWISH!
A blinding flash of purple light cut through the air. Grand Elder Lu appeared directly between Railin and the descending golden palm. Elder Lu flicked his long purple sleeve, unleashing a torrent of dense, dark-blue water-attribute Core Qi that smashed into the golden fire hand, exploding into a massive plume of scalding white steam that blinded the entire front row of spectators.
"Lu! Step aside!" Elder Feng screamed, his beard trembling with rage. "That boy is a demonic threat to the entire academy! He must be executed on the spot!"
"I will not step aside, and you will stay your hand!" Elder Lu snapped back, his voice turning ice-cold as his own Core Formation pressure flared to its peak, locking Elder Feng's aura in mid-air. "The Life-and-Death contract was sealed under the witness of the Heaven and Earth Array! The rules of the Sun-Moon Academy have governed these four peaks for three thousand years. If a Grand Elder destroys an inner disciple who won a legal, binding duel in broad daylight, it will be treated as an open act of treason against the Grand Council and the Sect Master himself! Do you wish to forfeit your seat, Elder Feng?!"
Elder Feng's golden-lit palm trembled violently in mid-air. The muscles along his jaw clenched so hard that blood dripped from his lips. He stared past Elder Lu's shoulder at Railin, who was still standing there with his hands tucked loosely into his navy sleeves, watching the confrontation with the detached entertainment of a man watching dogs fight over scraps.
Elder Feng knew Lu was right. The Grand Council was watching from the highest clouds. If he struck Railin now, the hidden ancestors of the academy would enforce the sect rules without mercy.
"Good... very, very good!" Elder Feng sneered, slowly lowering his glowing hand, though the sheer malice in his voice could rot the roots of an ancient oak. "Railin... remember this day well. You may have survived the arena. You may have stepped into the Foundation Establishment realm on the blood of my nephew. But the Sun-Moon Academy is vast, the wild mountains are deep, and life is fragile. Accidents happen to arrogant disciples every single day. Let us see how long your dark luck shields your neck."
With a violent wave of his sleeve, Elder Feng unleashed a golden wind that wrapped around Feng Wushuang's shriveled, unconscious body. Without sparing another glance at the crowd, the elder transformed into a streak of blazing golden light, shooting back toward the towering, dragon-shaped mountain of the Imperial Dragon Peak.
Railin watched the golden streak disappear beyond the mountain mist, his expression completely unchanged. Threatening him with death was like threatening the ocean with water. In his eyes, Elder Feng's wrath was not a source of terror, but a promise of future conflict—and future conflict meant more high-grade Core Formation essence waiting to be swallowed by his Ashen Devouring Technique.
High above the arena, on the elevated floating platform reserved for the elite disciples of the Shadow Moon Peak, two figures stood hidden under the dense shade of an ancient, silver-leafed pine.
The outer crowd was frantically gossiping, shouting, and dispersing in utter chaos, but these two remained utterly still, their eyes fixed on the distant navy-robed youth who was now casually walking toward the western exit of the plaza.
"Fascinating... truly fascinating," a soft, melodious voice murmured.
The speaker was a young woman named Miao-Lin. She wore an elegant, dark violet robe embroidered with delicate silver crescent moons that sparkled under the morning sunlight. A slender black silk sash was bound tightly around her waist, accentuating her graceful figure. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded down to her hips, but her most striking feature was her eyes. Unlike ordinary cultivators, her irises shimmered with a rare, dual-colored brilliance—a flickering thread of vibrant, fiery crimson dancing alongside a deep, tranquil ocean-blue.
She was a rare Dual-Element talent (Red/Blue), possessing both Fire and Water spiritual affinities—a combination that made her a highly prized disciple within the specialized alchemy and combat wings of the academy.
Beside her stood a younger boy with sharp, vigilant features and short hair. This was her blood brother, John-Lin. He wore the standard dark-green robes of an inner disciple, his cultivation base settled at the peak of the Ninth Level Spirit Refining realm. Though his talent was rated as a modest Green-Rank, his eyes possessed a sharp, practical intelligence that saw through superficial illusions.
"Sister Miao..." John-Lin whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he swallowed hard. "Is that... is that really Cousin Railin? Are my eyes playing tricks on me?"
"It is him, John," Miao-Lin replied, her eyes narrowing as she watched Railin's steady, unhurried gait.
"I can barely recognize him!" John-Lin exclaimed softly, making sure his voice didn't carry to the surrounding disciples. "Back when we were all brought into the clan's preliminary testing ground... before we entered the Sun-Moon Academy... everyone in the main family treated him like a piece of worthless garbage. They called him a disgraced bastard, starved his mother's lineage, and pushed him into the dirt! And now... he just crippled Feng Wushuang and reached Foundation Establishment right on the execution stage?!"
Miao-Lin and John-Lin were the children of Railin's mother's sister. Years ago, when the broader family gathered for the academy's entrance selections, Miao-Lin and John-Lin had witnessed the cruel, systemic bullying inflicted upon Railin by the arrogant main branch. While they had never participated in the abuse—feeling a silent, familial sympathy for their aunt's son—they had been far too weak and politically insignificant back then to intervene against the main family's tyranny.
"He hid his true nature deep within his bones, John," Miao-Lin said, her crimson-and-blue eyes flashing with deep emotion. "Or perhaps... the endless pain and humiliation he suffered finally shattered his mortal shackles, awakening something ancient and terrifying within his bloodline. But look at his eyes... there is no joy in his victory. There is only cold, calculating darkness."
"What do we do now, Sister?" John-Lin asked, looking at his sister with genuine concern. "Railin just ruined the Imperial Dragon Peak's face. Elder Feng will definitely send shadow assassins after him. And worse... what happens when they find out?"
Miao-Lin's expression darkened instantly at his words. Her gaze turned toward the northern peak, where the clouds hung dark and heavy over the closed-door cultivation grottos.
"You mean Hao-Lin and Shu-Lin," Miao-Lin said softly, her voice filled with a icy gravity.
"Yes!" John-Lin said hurriedly. "Hao-Lin possesses that arrogant Green-Rank Spirit Talent, but his mother's faction poured millions of spirit stones into his body to push him forward. And his elder sister, Shu-Lin... she has a top-tier Yellow-Rank Spirit Talent! She's already built a massive web of influence within the inner council! They have been in closed-door training for over a year to prepare for the Grand Assembly. If they emerge and discover that the 'trash' they thought was dead is now walking the Inner Sect as a Foundation Establishment master... their jealousy will turn into open war!"
Miao-Lin closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the cool mountain wind ruffle her violet robes. When she opened them, her Dual-Element eyes burned with a resolute light.
"Hao-Lin is a narrow-minded fool who relies on his sister's shadow," Miao-Lin stated coldly. "And Shu-Lin is a viper who tolerates no threat to her family's dominance. They will definitely try to purge Railin before he can solidify his position. We cannot sit idly by this time, John. Railin is our blood cousin, and our aunt was kind to us when we were young. We must find a way to contact him in secret, pass him intelligence regarding Shu-Lin's faction, and stand by his side when the storm hits."
John-Lin nodded firmly, his fist clenching at his side. "Understood, Sister. I'll keep a close eye on the Mission Hall and the main roads."
Meanwhile, on a high floating platform forged entirely from glacial ice, a lonely figure stood watching the grand plaza empty out.
Rusunam Rusu stood with her hands tucked neatly inside her wide, frost-embroidered white sleeves. The frigid winds of the Ice Mystic Peak whipped her snow-white robes around her slender body, but the biting cold seemed to originate from her very skin. Her face was an unreadable mask of carved jade, her azure eyes reflecting the distant shadow of Railin as he stepped off the stone stairs.
She had witnessed every single second of the battle. Her powerful, ice-refined soul sense had picked up the subtle, invisible thread of mental energy Railin had fired—the devastating Soul-Piercing Needle from The Eclipse Soul Scripture that had shattered Feng Wushuang's focus in mid-air. She had also seen the grotesque, black void vortex that had devoured Feng Wushuang's lifeblood and cultivation base in a matter of seconds.
"Senior Sister Rusu..." a timid female disciple behind her whispered, shivering slightly from the cold aura radiating from Rusu's body. "Is... is Senior Disciple Railin practicing a forbidden demonic scripture? The way he swallowed Senior Disciple Feng's energy... it looked like the forbidden dark arts from the southern wilderness..."
"The origin of a technique does not dictate the nature of the practitioner," Rusu replied, her voice dropping like falling icicles, flat and devoid of warmth. "In the Inner Sect, strength is the only currency that buys survival. The weak are eaten; the strong dictate morality. Railin understands this better than anyone."
She paused, her ice-blue eyes narrowing as she recalled the brief, infuriating moment when Railin had looked at her inside Spirit Abode 409—that pitch-black, emotionless gaze that treated her not as a famous core genius or an exquisite beauty, but as a total, irrelevant stranger. A faint, nearly imperceptible flicker of annoyance crossed her calm brow.
"However... he is absurdly arrogant," Rusu added, her tone turning slightly colder. "He thinks that because he killed an outer deacon and crippled a foolish Third Level Foundation disciple, he can walk through the Sun-Moon Academy unscathed. He has no idea how deep the water truly is."
Rusu turned around, her snow-white sleeves sweeping through the air, creating a soft dusting of frost on the wooden platform floor.
"Senior Sister, where are you going?" the junior disciple asked in surprise. "The Peak Lord requested your presence for the afternoon spirit tea ceremony!"
"Tell the Peak Lord I have an urgent matter to settle regarding the Spirit Abode ward seals," Rusu said without turning back. Her figure flickered, transforming into a streak of blue-white light that shot down the mountain path, heading directly toward the western forest. "That fool just painted a giant target on his chest. If Elder Feng's covert assassins turn his residence into a bloodbath, it will disturb the peace of my neighboring mountain."
The western mountain trail leading to the residential zone was quiet, shaded by tall, ancient bamboo trees whose leaves rustled gently in the afternoon breeze. The deafening roars of the arena and the blood-soaked excitement of the crowd faded into a distant memory with every step Railin took.
Inside Railin's lower dantian, a magnificent, quiet revolution was completing its final cycle.
The chaotic, golden Imperial Dragon Qi he had forcibly ripped from Feng Wushuang's body had been completely crushed by the ruthless pressure of The Ashen Devouring Technique. The fiery, arrogant dragon energy was stripped of its original consciousness, purified of all impurities, and converted into pure, liquid-black void essence. This essence flowed smoothly through his widened, reinforced meridians, nourishing his bones, his internal organs, and his skin.
His spiritual sense, which had previously been limited to a radius of a few hundred feet, now expanded outward effortlessly. He could feel the exact vibrations of every falling leaf within a three-mile radius. He could hear the faint, steady heartbeat of a spirit deer grazing in the deep valley below, smell the faint metallic lingering scent of dried dragon-blood on his own navy sleeves, and detect the subtle, hidden presence of at least six different inner sect scouts trailing him from the high tree canopy.
Railin did not slow his pace, nor did he bother to look up at the hidden spies. To him, those hidden observers were mere ants watching a tiger walk through his forest. They meant nothing.
First Level of Foundation Establishment... Railin thought, his pitch-black eyes glowing with a dark, satisfied light as he felt the incredible density of the black rotating sphere within his body. My physical strength has quadrupled. My soul sea is three times larger, and my lifespan has expanded by at least two centuries. But this is still far from enough.
He knew very well that crippling Feng Wushuang was merely kicking a hornets' nest. Elder Feng would not accept this humiliation quietly. The Imperial Dragon Peak would mobilize its hidden assets, hiring shadow assassins or manipulating dangerous sect missions to eliminate him outside the academy's sight. Furthermore, the mysterious, long-buried memories regarding his father's main family—the arrogant Hao-Lin with his artificially boosted Green-Rank talent, and the scheming Shu-Lin with her formidable Yellow-Rank status—were beginning to loom over the horizon like a gathering thunderstorm.
Let them come, Railin thought, a cold, ruthless smile touching his lips. Every assassin they send is just another delivery of Foundation Establishment spirit essence for my dantian.
As he reached the final turn of the path, the stone gate of Spirit Abode 409 came into view. The ancient stone structure stood quiet amidst the lush green bamboo, surrounded by the subtle protective array he had laid down days ago.
However, before Railin's boot could touch the entrance steps, a sudden, sharp drop in temperature swept through the bamboo forest. The vibrant green leaves instantly stiffened, coated in a layer of crystalline, white frost. The damp soil beneath his feet hardened into ice, and a gentle, biting snow began to fall from the clear sky.
Railin stopped in his tracks. He did not draw a weapon, nor did he turn his head. He stood calmly in the middle of the frozen path, his navy robes contrasting starkly against the suddenly white landscape.
"You move with great speed, Senior Sister Rusu," Railin said smoothly, his tone completely flat, devoid of surprise or panic. "However... your ice qi is far too noisy. Did the Ice Mystic Peak fail to teach you how to conceal your presence?"
SWISH!
A flurry of blue-white frost condensed twenty paces ahead of him on the path. From the swirling ice crystals, the slender, white-robed figure of Rusunam Rusu materialized. She stood like an immortal ice sculpture, her long hair blowing in the cold wind she created, her azure eyes staring directly into Railin's dark pupils with an unyielding, freezing intensity.
"Your tongue remains as sharp and insolent as ever, Railin," Rusu said coldly, stepping forward as the ice beneath her boots crackled softly. "You just survived a Core Formation elder's wrath by the skin of your teeth, yet you act as if you own the Four Great Peaks. Do you truly believe that reaching the First Level of Foundation Establishment makes you invincible within these mountains?
See you in next chapter....