The Deoxy pirate, his face contorted with a mixture of anger and disbelief, stepped forward. "You're sullying the name of cultivators," he spat, his voice dripping with scorn. "You won't get the 1.5 million contribution points for winning this round. You won't get the bonus 5 million for being the first to reach this stage. You will lose. You will lose to me."
He paused, his eyes narrowing, his voice laced with contempt. "And you're shameless! Bringing two to fight one? That's not how a true cultivator fights. That's cheating!"
Roman smirked, unfazed by the accusations. "The rules allow for beast tamers to bring their beasts. I'm simply using the resources available to me. I'm following the rules; I'm not cheating."
The Deoxy pirate's face reddened with fury. Before he could launch his attack, Shiro, sensing an opening, moved with terrifying speed. With a guttural roar, she unleashed the Screaming Slash of the Titans. A wave of razor-sharp energy ripped through the air, striking the Deoxy pirate from behind before he could even react. The attack was swift, precise, and utterly devastating. The pirate staggered, heavily injured, his body riddled with deep gashes. He collapsed to the ground, knocked out in a single, devastating blow.
Roman and Shiro exchanged a sinister laugh.
"I don't care about your rules," Roman declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Now, give me my 3 million sect points, plus the additional 15 million worth of prizes."
The crowd was stunned into silence. No one had anticipated such a swift and decisive victory. Roman, despite his unorthodox methods, had proven his superior strength. He had not only won the match but had shown the ruthlessness and determination required to succeed in the unforgiving world of cultivation. The prize money was his. The victory was his. He was a cultivator, not a warrior bound by outdated codes. He was a survivor. He was strong. He was Roman Rakrak. And his ascent to power was only just beginning.
The air crackled with anticipation. Roman Rakrak, his recent victories echoing through the Azure Serpent Sect, stood poised on the precipice of greatness. He had proven his strength, outmaneuvering seasoned cultivators and showcasing a tactical brilliance that belied his youth. The Second Elder, a figure of immense power and wisdom, approached him, his voice a low rumble that cut through the excited murmurs of the crowd.
"Roman," the Elder began, his gaze penetrating, "you have demonstrated exceptional skill and cunning. The next stage of the tournament pits you against the sect elders. The rewards are substantial—prestige, resources, and the recognition of the sect's leadership. But it is a perilous undertaking."
The Elder paused, his eyes studying Roman's face, searching for any hint of hesitation. "Consider this carefully, young cultivator. Victory will elevate your status to unprecedented heights. Defeat… could irrevocably damage your reputation. This is a calculated risk."
Roman's heart pounded. The Elder's words were not merely a warning; they were a confirmation of his own internal conflict. The allure of victory, of the immense resources and recognition it promised, warred with the very real possibility of defeat, of the humiliation it would entail. He had come so far, overcoming adversity and forging his own path. To stumble now would not only damage his standing within the sect but would also tarnish his hard-earned self-respect.
He thought of Shiro, his powerful ally, her unwavering loyalty a source of both strength and comfort. Their bond had become more than merely a strategic alliance; it had become something deeper, more profound—a partnership forged in the crucible of shared experience and mutual respect. He glanced at Shiro, who stood silently beside him, her gaze steady, her aura radiating power and unwavering support. Their connection was a source of strength. They were a team.
As Roman weighed the risks, a new conflict emerged—a challenge from an unexpected quarter. Lin, a young, ambitious C-rank senior sister, known for her unyielding adherence to traditional cultivation methods, stepped forward. Her eyes, cold and sharp, were fixed on Roman.
"Your methods are unorthodox, bordering on dishonorable," Lin declared, her voice ringing with disapproval. "You rely on trickery and deception, sullying the noble art of cultivation. I will show you what true strength truly means."
Lin's challenge wasn't simply a test of skill; it was a statement, a confrontation of ideologies. She represented the sect's traditionalists, those who viewed Roman's pragmatic approach with disdain. He was a disruptor, a threat to the established order. She saw in him not merely a strong cultivator, but an affront to the very principles of the sect. She had to defeat him. She had to stop him.
Before Roman could respond, Shiro moved with breathtaking speed, a blur of white fur and honed claws. Lin, though skilled, was caught off guard. Shiro's powerful kick sent her sprawling, but Lin, with remarkable agility, recovered quickly. In that moment, Roman acted. He channeled a fraction of Shiro's power, unleashing a focused beam of energy that sliced through the air, striking Lin and inflicting a deep wound.
Lin, stunned by the attack, her pride wounded as much as her body, forfeited the match. She couldn't defeat him. Not now. Not like this. The combination of Roman's tactical acumen and Shiro's raw power was too formidable.
Roman, despite his victory, chose to withdraw from the next round. Facing the elders would be an unacceptable risk. The rewards, though tempting, did not outweigh the potential for humiliation and damage to his reputation. He had achieved more than he initially anticipated. He had proven his strength, his intelligence, and his resourcefulness. His calculated retreat was not a sign of weakness, but of exceptional strategic thinking. He would not risk everything he had gained for an elusive victory. His future lay ahead, brimming with unlimited possibilities. His journey was far from over. He was Roman Rakrak, and his ascent had just begun. The tournament had served its purpose. He had won. He was victorious. The tournament concluded, leaving Roman Rakrak standing victorious. His strategic withdrawal before facing the elders was a testament to his astute judgment, his calculated risk-taking, and his growing understanding of the intricate power dynamics within the Azure Serpent Sect. The prize money, an astonishing 80 million sect points, was a significant reward, representing a monumental leap forward in his resources and a substantial boost to his reputation. He had not only demonstrated his exceptional skills but also his remarkable tactical acumen. He was a cultivator who understood the true meaning of power and the importance of strategic thinking.
With his newfound wealth secured, Roman sought a private space—a secluded room within the sect—for himself and Shiro. The improved privacy and the increased resources would provide them with a far superior cultivation environment, accelerating their progress and enabling further enhancement of their skills. His cultivation would reach new levels at a quicker rate.
His mind raced, already strategizing his next moves. The acquisition of a ship, using a portion of his substantial winnings, was a priority. The vision of sailing the open seas, commanding his own vessel, becoming a formidable pirate, and one day conquering countless lands, filled him with excitement and ambition. It was a dream for the future, however. A dream that required immense strength, skill, and resources to materialize.
Currently, his cultivation was at the Nascent Soul stage, three realms above Senior Sister Lin, whose actual strength was at the Grand Warrior stage—a significant difference in power. His victory over Lin was even more impressive, considering the substantial gap in their cultivation levels. However, even with his tremendous growth, the path to achieving his ambitions was still long and arduous. He was far from reaching the Grand Warrior stage—a level of power that would make his piratical aspirations more realistic.
The path ahead remained challenging, requiring continued dedication, meticulous training, and unwavering resolve. He would need to hone his skills, enhance his techniques, and deepen his cultivation. Shiro, ever his loyal and powerful ally, would remain by his side, their bond strengthening with each shared experience.
This wasn't the end of his journey; it was a new beginning. The wealth, the victories, and the recognition were significant steps towards a much larger, more ambitious goal. He had proven his capabilities, and he had secured the resources he needed to continue his ascent. He was Roman Rakrak, and he was ready to shape his destiny. His journey to becoming a formidable force on the seas was far from over. His rise to power had just begun.