The Shattered Isles were not a place for the righteous. They were a cluster of volcanic islands shrouded in perpetual smog, where the ocean boiled and the sky rained ash.
This was the capital of sin. Pirates, exiled cultivators, assassins, and fugitives gathered here because the Laws of the Empire did not reach these shores. Here, the only law was the blade.
A small, battered boat docked at the Port of Scum.
Kaelen stepped off first. He wore a heavy grey cloak with a deep hood. His face was covered by a simple white porcelain mask with no features—just two eye holes.
On his back, wrapped in cloth, was his mother, Lyra.
Bo followed, dragging the luggage. He looked nervous, clutching his "Hammer of Wealth" (the bag of gold, which was now significantly lighter after buying fuel and bribes).
"Boss," Bo whispered, eyeing a group of pirates cleaning blood off their sabers nearby. "This place gives me the creeps. Are you sure we can hide here?"
"The best place to hide a drop of water is in the ocean," Kaelen's voice was muffled behind the mask. "And the best place to hide a monster... is among other monsters."
They walked through the muddy streets. The air smelled of cheap rum, sulfur, and unwashed bodies.
"We need a safe house," Kaelen said. "Somewhere with a Spirit Gathering Array to help the Resurrection Flower heal my mother. It must be private."
They found an inn called The Dead Man's Rest. The innkeeper was a goblin with one eye.
"I need your best room," Kaelen slammed a gold coin on the counter. "Top floor. Private array."
The goblin bit the coin to check if it was real. "Top floor suite with a Grade 3 Array? That's 500 Spirit Stones a week."
"500?!" Bo shrieked. "That's robbery! We only have 400 left!"
Kaelen froze. He looked at Bo.
"We spent the rest on the boat fuel and the gate bribes," Bo admitted, shrinking back. "Living on the run is expensive, Boss!"
Kaelen sighed. Money. Even for a God Emperor, money was a problem.
"We'll take it for three days," Kaelen tossed a bag of stones to the goblin. "Take my mother upstairs. Guard the door, Bo. If anyone enters, scream."
"Where are you going?" Bo asked.
Kaelen looked at a massive coliseum-like structure in the center of the island. It was roaring with the sound of thousands of people screaming.
"To the bank," Kaelen said coldly.
...
The Blood Pit Arena.
This was the heart of the Shattered Isles. A massive underground fighting ring where cultivators fought to the death for money and glory.
The registration room was dark and smoky. A large Orc sat behind a desk, sharpening an axe.
"Next!" the Orc grunted.
Kaelen stepped forward. He looked small and frail in his cloak compared to the massive muscle-bound warriors lining up.
"I want to fight," Kaelen said.
The Orc looked him up and down and laughed. "Go home, little boy. This is the Death Match bracket. We don't have a nursery."
The other fighters in line laughed.
"Look at him! He's wearing a mask to hide his fear!"
"I bet he wets his pants in ten seconds."
Kaelen didn't react. He placed his hand on the Orc's desk.
Crack.
The solid oak desk split down the middle.
The laughter stopped instantly. The Orc looked at the broken desk, then at Kaelen's slender hand.
"Name?" the Orc asked, his voice suddenly respectful.
"Asura."
"Weapon?"
"None."
The Orc raised an eyebrow but wrote it down. "You are in the next match. Your opponent is The Butcher. Odds are 50 to 1 against you. If you win... you get 1000 stones."
"Good."
Kaelen walked into the waiting tunnel.
...
The Arena.
"LADIES AND SCUM!" the announcer screamed into a magical microphone. "Welcome to tonight's main event! In the red corner... the reigning champion... weighing 400 pounds of pure muscle... THE BUTCHER!"
The gate opened. A giant man walked out. He wore an apron stained with dried blood and wielded a massive meat cleaver the size of a door. He roared, and the crowd went wild.
"KILL! KILL! KILL!"
"And in the blue corner... a newcomer... the man with no face... ASURA!"
Kaelen walked out.
Silence. Then, boos.
"Boooo! Get him off the stage!"
"He looks like a stick! Butcher, chop him up!"
Kaelen stood in the center of the sandy ring. He looked calm. Bored, even.
The Butcher laughed, pointing his cleaver at Kaelen. "Hey, little mask! Do you want me to cut off your head first, or your legs?"
Kaelen looked up at the VIP box high above the arena. He wasn't looking at the crowd. He was looking at the energy fluctuations. He needed to win this fast and get back to his mother.
"Start!" the referee shouted.
The Butcher charged. "DIE!"
The ground shook with his steps. The massive cleaver swung down, aiming to split Kaelen in half.
Kaelen didn't draw a weapon. He didn't use Qi. He didn't even use his Dragon Transformation.
He simply... stepped in.
While everyone expected him to dodge backward, Kaelen stepped forward, inside the range of the cleaver.
The massive blade missed him by an inch, hitting the sand behind him.
Kaelen was now chest-to-chest with the giant.
"You are open," Kaelen whispered.
He raised his right hand. His fingers were curled into a gentle fist.
One-Inch Punch.
THUD.
Kaelen's fist hit the Butcher's solar plexus. There was no wind-up. No scream. Just a short, sharp impact.
But the result was terrifying.
CRACK-BOOM!
The sound of ribs shattering echoed through the arena like a gunshot.
The Butcher's eyes bulged out of his skull. His massive 400-pound body was lifted off the ground. He flew backward—ten feet, twenty feet, thirty feet—until he slammed into the arena wall.
He slid down, leaving a trail of foam and blood. He didn't move.
One punch.
One second.
The crowd froze. The screaming stopped. A pin drop could be heard in the massive stadium.
Kaelen lowered his hand. He smoothed out a wrinkle in his cloak.
He turned to the stunned announcer.
"My money," Kaelen's voice, distorted by the mask, echoed in the silence. "Now."
The crowd erupted.
"ASURA! ASURA! ASURA!"
In the VIP box, a shadowy figure sat watching. She wore a red veil and smoked a long pipe.
"Interesting," the woman murmured, her eyes locking onto Kaelen. "A body refiner with that much power? Find out who he is. The Pirate King's Tournament needs fresh blood."
Kaelen took the bag of 1000 stones and walked out of the arena without acknowledging the cheers.
He wasn't here for glory. He was here for rent.
But he didn't know that his single punch had just put him on the radar of every major power in the Shattered Isles. The legend of Asura had begun.