Chapter 16: White Star Speed Transformation
Elton sat cross-legged in the stillness of his quarters, the residual pain from yesterday's brutal trial lingering in his muscles. But despite the soreness, his mind was sharp. He closed his eyes, circulating his Ki through the mysterious spiritual meridian that had forcefully opened during his last stand in the Brilliant Blade Pressure Formation.
As his Ki flowed, he noticed something different—it moved with unprecedented smoothness. No stutters, no strain. It was as if a dam had been broken, and a new river had begun to flow freely through him. Curious, he intensified his focus, pouring more Ki into the meridian. Then something strange happened.
His body shimmered faintly.
Tiny starlight particles glistened along his skin—almost invisible to the naked eye, but definitely real. A subtle hum filled the room, vibrating in his bones.
Before he could panic, the familiar, arrogant voice rang out in his mind like a thunderclap:
"Oh? So you've finally tickled the surface of something worth noticing. Try running from one end of the room to the other. Humor me."
Elton sighed, annoyed but intrigued. He got to his feet, poised himself, then shot across the room with a blur. He barely stopped himself from crashing face-first into the opposite wall. His breathing hitched, and his eyes widened.
"Heh! Behold, the White Star Speed Transformation Skill. You're welcome, by the way."
Elton scowled. "Annoying voice in my head or not… this is impressive."
Still, a flicker of unease crossed his face. This wasn't a technique he could flaunt openly. It was tied to his Star Lightning cultivation—something he intended to keep hidden. For now, he'd mask it under the guise of the Bright Blade Subsect's techniques.
The next morning, the final stage of the competition began. The plaza was lively once more, tension high as thirty-six disciples stood in formation.
From the central platform, the Elder from the Bright Brilliant Blade Sect stood with his arms crossed, flanked by the three disciples that accompanied him. Without turning to address the crowd, the other Subsect elders muttered among themselves.
"That old blade… he's Peak Late-Stage Gold Tier. Stronger than our current Patriarch."
"No wonder he's so confident. Even using less than 10% of his power, he can still break them."
The Elder finally spoke, voice as sharp as steel.
"You will each receive one attack from me. Withstand it in any way you see fit. If you cannot, you are unworthy."
One by one, the disciples stepped forward.
The first few used defensive stances, conjuring barriers of Ki or magic. Some were sent flying. Others crumpled but remained conscious. The Elder's technique—a condensed Wind Javelin Magic Skill—was deceptively blunt, like being hit by a charging rhino made of air.
Cedric stepped forward. He summoned every ounce of his Ki, flaring it like a beacon. But as the Wind Javelin flew, it struck his defenses, shattered them, and hurled him like a broken doll across the field. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
More disciples stepped up—unknown faces, some faring slightly better, others barely making it through. A few even managed to stay standing, though all were visibly shaken.
Then it was Christy's turn.
She breathed deeply. Her Aka Boshi Tengan eyes ignited, the magical runes within them whirring to life. With a serene expression, she channeled her Magical Ki Essence into a graceful, spiraling motion around her body. As the Wind Javelin neared, she used her Gentle Spear Hand technique, redirecting a fraction of the force with a focused strike.
The crowd stared in awe as she was pushed back but landed on her feet, the damage minimal.
The Elder raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Come. Stand beside me."
She obeyed, the crowd murmuring at this rare acknowledgment.
More nameless disciples followed—each one facing the javelin with their own technique or brute force. Few succeeded. Most failed.
Then came Zoro.
He stood alone, eyes burning with killing intent. His Ki flared—Silver Tier 2, dark and corrosive. He unsheathed a single blade, and as the javelin approached, he bellowed:
—One Sword Style: Black Shadow Collision Strike—
His sword met the javelin mid-flight. A shockwave exploded outward. Zoro was blasted back, tumbling across the stone tiles, but he remained conscious, bloodied and heaving.
More filler disciples stepped up. Some showed potential, others were overwhelmed. One even passed out before the javelin hit. Another tried a dual-elemental shield that shattered on impact, earning laughter from the crowd.
Talia's turn came. She conjured a shimmering magic shield—a crystalline defense that shimmered with red and gold. The javelin struck, cracking it open. She stumbled back, her shield gone, but she stayed standing. The damage was superficial.
Then more no-name disciples approached. One created a wall of earth. Another tried to absorb the blow with his body. All were dispatched quickly.
Ramius stepped up next. His Ki pulsed with layered precision. The javelin met his technique mid-air and blew through it, sending him sliding backward. But he managed to stay upright, gasping but not injured.
Finally, Elton stepped into position.
He steadied his breath, channeling his Ki. His spiritual meridian vibrated lightly. As the Wind Javelin roared toward him, Elton readied his sword—then everything blanked.
In an instant, he found himself several meters away, his sword shattered in his bloody hands. A pothole smoldered nearby—where the javelin had struck.
His eyes widened.
"Heh… Not bad, brat," the inner voice laughed. "White Star Speed Transformation—automatic activation under mortal threat. Elegant, isn't it?"
The crowd murmured in astonishment. Even some elders stood in stunned silence.
Elton's breathing was shallow. His gaze dropped to his bleeding palms. Then it clicked.
That damn voice… it took over again.
His blood boiled, his mind spinning. But even with the fear and the frustration, a small, grudging respect flickered in his heart for the power now at his fingertips.
The inner voice laughed louder, then vanished into silence.