Outside the arena, the Spectator Stands
The crowd roared as the elder stepped out from the formation gate, carrying two outer sect disciples who were limp and powerless. The elder's steps were steady, yet his eyes were somber. The two young men he brought looked like broken dolls—their faces swollen, bones protruding unnaturally, clothes tattered, and dried blood staining their bodies.
In an instant, whispers spread like fire across dry grass.
"Oh my… who did this to them?"
"Look at their leg bones… they're broken outward! This isn't an ordinary injury!"
Some disciples covered their mouths, faces a mix of horror and curiosity. Others leaned forward, trying to get a closer look.
"I didn't see the fight on the projection screen…"
"Then… what really happened inside?"
"Maybe they were attacked by a wild beast."
"What kind of beast breaks jaws like that? Look, half their teeth are gone!"
Laughter mixed with disbelief echoed from another corner of the stands.
"Haha… if I had to guess, they probably dared to mess with the wrong person."
"Hmm… maybe they challenged a senior. But the wounds on the face… they look like the result of fists, not swords."
"Fists? If that's true… then the person who did this must have been angry."
The female disciples whispered among themselves, some blushing—not out of admiration, but from imagining the pain.
"Whoever did this… is merciless."
"Merciless? Or fair? We don't know what they did inside."
"Still… seeing them like this feels like watching a sack of sand being beaten to pieces."
In the front row, several sect elders sat with expressionless faces, yet their ears clearly caught all the whispers. The Sect Master, seated on a high chair, only opened his eyes briefly, glanced at the two outer sect disciples, then closed them again. His voice was flat, yet carried weight:
"The Third Secret Realm has its own rules. The weak… will always end up like this."
Though his words were simple, they reignited the crowd's chatter—not silencing gossip, but fueling it further.
"If even the Sect Master says so… then they must have lost badly."
"But who was their opponent? I really want to know."
"Who knows… but if that person appears, I'll be careful."
From that moment, the incident began circulating among the disciples—a rumor not necessarily true, but enough to ignite fear in many hearts.
As the gossip reached the elders and leaders, their gaze turned simultaneously toward the Sect Master, as if demanding an explanation. The look, filled with subtle yet tangible pressure, seemed to seek either justification or at least acknowledgment of the recent event.
Though they were certain of who was behind it in their hearts, none dared speak the name openly. Only eye signals and facial expressions served as the secret language between them.
Powerless, the Sect Master could only sigh deeply, then nod slowly. That nod was more than mere acknowledgment—it was a burden of responsibility he had to bear, aware that every word he uttered afterward would fuel even hotter discussions behind the scenes.
The Third Secret Realm
Bai Tian walked leisurely, his eyes scanning every corner of the secret realm he passed. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wet earth and aged leaves. Occasionally, he slipped behind thick trees to avoid attention, his ears keenly catching conversations of outer sect disciples chatting in the distance.
"Brother Fang, are you going into the Sect's Secret Realm this time to seek the inheritance?" asked a young man with a curious tone.
"With your combat power, Brother Fang, you'll surely gain great benefits."
The young man called Fang Zhu shook his head slightly, a hint of hesitation on his face.
"No. It's too dangerous. Our cultivation will be suppressed there… and I don't want to risk fighting for the inheritance." His tone was firm, as if the decision was already made.
Yet the young man beside him did not give up.
"Brother Fang, are you really not interested? I heard that this time there is an inheritance from a top alchemist on the Highest Mountain."
Hearing the words "alchemist's inheritance," Bai Tian's heart began to race. He knew that a high-level alchemist could shake the world with a mere turn of the hand—both in wealth and influence.
A faint smile appeared on his face. "If the inheritance really exists, I cannot miss it," he thought. Without hesitation, he decided to search for the Highest Mountain mentioned in the secret realm.
Time passed. The sun began to sink in the west, leaving golden-orange light reflecting off the stones. Bai Tian moved swiftly through the dense forest, crossed small streams, and climbed steep slopes. His breathing was steady, eyes focused on any signs of the mountain.
Finally, after a long journey, he stopped. In front of him stood a towering mountain, its peak nearly piercing the clouds, shrouded in a thin mist shimmering under the sunset.
"This must be what I'm looking for," Bai Tian murmured, his eyes shining with determination.
He continued his journey toward the Highest Mountain with steady steps. He did not rush, maintaining a stable pace to conserve energy. The path was lined with dense trees, fresh air mixed with the scent of wet soil, and sunlight filtering through leaves like sheets of gold.
Along the way, he saw outer sect disciples enjoying the secret realm. Some hunted spiritual beasts with sharp weapons in hand, others sat by rivers singing, and some practiced breathing techniques under ancient trees. Bai Tian only glanced briefly—he was not interested. He quickly ignored the distractions, strengthened his steps, and concealed his aura to avoid detection.
Time passed quickly. As the sun set and the sky turned dark, Bai Tian found a gigantic tree with a trunk as wide as a house. Its massive roots curled like a sleeping dragon. Feeling the spot was safe enough, he decided to rest. Using natural materials nearby, he built a simple shelter protected from the night wind.
Before he could enter, he heard commotion from the forest. Hastened footsteps and harsh shouts immediately put him on alert. Bai Tian moved closer quietly, then his eyes widened—he recognized the figure: Zhang Hun.
Zhang Hun was not a stranger. He was Bai Tian's only close friend, someone who had once helped him avoid trouble. Now, Zhang Hun was being chased by three outer sect disciples and a dozen common disciples, their faces full of anger and greed. From a brief overheard conversation, Bai Tian understood the cause—Zhang Hun had obtained one of the Rare Ascension Tokens, a coveted item in the secret realm.
Bai Tian froze briefly, weighing the risk. Helping would make him a target, but leaving Zhang Hun to be captured would betray his only friend. After a brief thought, his eyes sharpened, determination firm.
He moved quickly like a shadow, approaching the chase path. With trained motions, he threw several smoke bombs at the pursuers. Small explosions accompanied by thick smoke immediately covered the area, causing the pursuers to cough and lose sight. Amid the chaos, Bai Tian leaped to Zhang Hun's side, grabbed his arm, and pulled him into a narrow passage between the trees.
They ran silently, through the misty night and faint smell of gunpowder. Minutes later, when the footsteps faded, they stopped at a large hidden rock crevice. Gasping for air, their eyes met—reflecting relief and unspoken gratitude.
The atmosphere gradually returned to calm. Only the chirping of nocturnal insects could be heard.
Bai Tian signaled Zhang Hun to follow him. They moved cautiously back to the resting spot under the giant tree. Zhang Hun sat against a massive root, catching his breath, while Bai Tian lit a small fire using dry twigs.
Tension slowly eased. The flickering campfire cast warm light on their faces. They talked lightly—reminiscing their first meeting, discussing funny incidents during training, laughing softly so as not to attract nearby creatures. Even in the perilous secret realm, the night offered a brief moment to feel outside the battlefield.
After their chat, they took turns keeping watch. Bai Tian took the first shift, sitting cross-legged and focusing on every sound in the forest, while Zhang Hun rested with eyes closed. Night passed, wrapped in cold air and the sounds of insects.
At dawn, as the sky showed a hint of orange through the trees, Bai Tian extinguished the last embers of the fire. He looked at Zhang Hun, who had just awakened, and smiled faintly.
"I must continue my journey to the Highest Mountain," he said softly.
Zhang Hun looked at him briefly, then nodded in understanding.
"Be careful on the road."
With a wave of his hand, Bai Tian set off, leaving his friend under the warming morning light. His steps were steady, eyes fixed on the Highest Mountain, still shrouded in thick mist—the destination now closer than ever.