Finally dressed like a young master, Lucian continued to embark on his journey of achieving strength and ruling this new world.
He held the map in his hand, navigating his direction to Tiandu where the supposed Dragon and Phoenix competition would be held.
This competition, held by the Murim Alliance leader himself, is quite exceptional; only people under the age of 30 are allowed to participate... as all hidden masters are allowed to join. Before, only the young masters of the 5 Great Clans together with small clans associated with them or exceptional disciples of the 9 Great Sects were allowed to participate, but this time, the Murim Alliance leader decided to open this competition widely.
This is actually a great scheme. If an exceptional master were to suddenly decide to participate and later join the Alliance, wouldn't their faction gain more battle strength compared to the evil faction or the Demonic Sect?
They often called the Heavenly Demon Cult a Demonic Sect instead of an evil faction. Unlike other Heavenly Demon Cults that have a functional and normal leader, this one is true to its name, solely focused on strength and doing the unimaginable to ever achieve it. All the previous leaders and the current one are not normal people. In the current world, they can be called a sect of psychopaths, and their leader is the greatest of them all. Every leader of this cult has a unique personality—just look at Jeonglak.
Sometimes they are distant from the world and just lurk in their territory, and other times they wage war for an unknown reason. These people are irrational and can't be reasoned with as they only follow the command of their leader. So if their leader is unreasonable, so is the whole cult.
Tiandu Province
The people of Tiandu Province were restless. Days before the competition, the streets were alive with an energy rarely seen outside royal festivals. Inns overflowed, taverns echoed with the laughter of arrogant young masters, and martial artists from all walks of life roamed the streets, their sect emblems proudly displayed. Even the air seemed charged, like the calm before a thunderstorm.
"They say even the Black Flame Valley sent their young master this year."
"Hah, and I heard the Tang Clan sent three disciples… The poison masters. This year will be bloody."
"And the inns are all full! My cousin said he's renting a storage shed for three silver a night. Can you believe it?"
"If this keeps up, Tiandu will be richer than the royal capital for a month."
The gossip was endless. Tea houses brimmed with chatter, and every shadowed alleyway had whispers of sect rivalries and rumors of assassinations waiting to happen.
"Did you hear? They're letting evil sects participate too!"
"What? Aren't they afraid of bloodshed?"
"It's a scheme, I tell you. The Righteous Alliance wants to lure out talents, maybe even kill off some evil experts under the banner of 'competition.'" some scholars joined the gossip.
"Hah! Evil experts? My uncle says even the Seven Ghosts of Blood River are coming. Who's going to kill who, I wonder?"
The merchants were ecstatic, counting their profits as masters rented out entire buildings, while guards doubled their patrols to keep chaos at bay. Tiandu was a powder keg waiting for a spark.
It was indeed the scheme of the Alliance leader to secretly match powerful masters of the righteous path against those from the evil factions, thinning out their ranks while strengthening their own. As it was framed as a competition, the evil factions couldn't retaliate too much, unlike the Demonic Sect, which would have responded with open warfare.
In the Registry
"Your name and sect or clan?" An elder of a small sect sat at a registry desk in the center of the plaza. He had been at this post all morning, taking names and handing out plaques, but his patience was wearing thin.
He glanced at the man before him, thinking to himself, "Another spoiled brat is entering, huh..."
The young man in front of him was striking—blonde hair, ruby-red eyes, and a calm demeanor that carried weight. His attire was simple but elegant, styled to resemble the young masters of noble clans.
Yes, this was Lucian. After tidying himself, he looked like a respectable young master here to test his skills.
"Lucian, unaffiliated," he said plainly.
The elder froze. "He's unaffiliated?"
That single word shifted his perception. He scanned Lucian carefully, dropping his initial assumptions. An unaffiliated participant in a competition of this level meant only one thing: danger. Such people didn't join for fame or money; they joined because they had absolute confidence in their strength.
His eyes traced Lucian's side. The only weapon he carried was a strange, eerie sword that seemed to hum faintly with killing intent. He then locked eyes with the youth, and a chill ran down his spine. Those ruby eyes weren't just striking—they were proof of countless lives taken.
"He looks young, but he is definitely of the evil faction. I should be careful," he thought, suppressing a shiver as he handed Lucian his participant plaque.
Lucian gave a curt nod and turned to leave, but the tense calm shattered.
A hulking man stepped in front of him, his presence drawing whispers from the crowd. This was Ferocious Tiger Warrior, a well-known expert from an evil sect infamous for slaughtering a Hall Master last year. His scarred face twisted into a sneer.
"Hey brat, go and hide yourself behind your father's back and scram! This competition is not for the spoiled brats of the righteous path!"
The elder's eyes widened. "Not here… not in front of the registry!" He opened his mouth to stop the confrontation, but the sound that followed silenced him instead.
A faint metallic whisper.
Lucian's hand had moved, his sword unsheathing just a hair's breadth before sliding back into place.
Then, silence.
And a head rolling on the cobblestone. Gasps and screams filled the square.
"What just happened?! I didn't even see him move!"
"Was that… sword qi?"
"No way, he didn't even swing. He just… vanished!"
"That was Ferocious Tiger Warrior… he killed a Hall Master last year!"
The elder blinked rapidly, trying to process what he had just witnessed. He alone had seen the faint flicker of movement—Lucian's hand brushing his sword, a brief glint of steel, and then… nothing.
"A genius... and a dangerous one has arrived in the competition..." His hands trembled as he penned an urgent message to his superiors.
Actually, Lucian promised not to kill people blindly as this is the world he'll someday govern, but that man just had to mention his father. That was his misfortune as he touched Lucian bottomline.
Nearby, a spy disguised as a tea vendor leaned close to his partner.
"Did you see that? One strike! That's not a young master's move, that's a demonic technique!!!!"
"Quiet! Don't let him hear you, or you'll be next!" the other one hushed him up.
A ragged beggar laughed nervously, shaking his head. "Hah! Tiandu's about to get bloody. Mark my words, this competition won't end without corpses piling higher than the city gates."
The registry square descended into chaos. Martial artists whispered in fear, some pale-faced as they reconsidered their registration. Others exchanged wary glances, assessing this mysterious youth.
"They say he didn't even blink. Ferocious Tiger Warrior was dead before his body knew it."
"To hell with this competition! I ain't betting my life for that glory I'm not sure I'll achieve! I'm pulling my name from the registry. Let the righteous and demonic lunatics kill each other!"
"Or maybe… I should watch closely. If I could befriend him…" one sect leader murmured, greed flickering in his eyes.
Some quietly slipped away, withdrawing their participation. Others decided to stay—not out of courage, but out of curiosity or ambition.
Lucian, on the other hand, moved through the crowd as if nothing had happened. People parted before him, some bowing slightly, others stepping back in fear. The atmosphere shifted; this was no mere participant.
His blade was clean. His expression calm.
Ferocious Tiger Warrior's corpse was dragged away by guards, but whispers already spread like wildfire. By evening, every tavern and tea house buzzed with tales of the mysterious youth.
"They say his sword flashed like lightning."
"No, no, there was no flash! He killed him without even drawing the blade fully."
"They say he's from that Heavenly Demon Cult, a personal disciple of the new Cheonma! He's here to shed bloodshed!!!"
"What nonsense! Look at his attire. He's clearly from some hidden aristocratic clan!"
"Hah! Hidden clan or demon's spawn, does it matter? Ferocious Tiger Warrior is dead!"
The rumors grew wilder with every telling. Some claimed Lucian used a forbidden assassination art; others whispered he wasn't human at all. A few swore they'd seen him vanish completely.
In one smoky tavern, a drunk martial artist pounded his mug on the table.
"Mark my words! That boy's sword will write history. Either he dies in this competition, or he becomes a devil none of us can stop."
A merchant leaned in eagerly.
"You think he'll join the Righteous Alliance? If he does, we might finally see peace for a while."
A grizzled elder master scoffed, clearly seeing this situation clearly.
"Peace? With a sword like that? No, child. Swords like his only carve rivers of blood."
Somewhere in the alleys, members of smaller sects huddled together.
"Should we… leave Tiandu?"
"Leave? And miss history being made? No! We'll watch. Just… stay far from him."
Even traveling assassins from neutral sects whispered his name, their voices hushed with fear.
Back in the Pavilion of Heavenly Justice
Far above the bustling city, the Righteous Alliance leader, Zheng Tianlong, known as the Righteous Heavenly Dragon, sat in quiet contemplation. The report of Ferocious Tiger Warrior's death rested in his hand. He sipped his tea calmly.
"It seems... a big fish took the bait."
His lips curled into a slight smile. A young, unaffiliated genius with strength surpassing top-tier experts? If they could recruit him, the balance of Jianghu might shift in their favor.
That night, Tiandu didn't sleep. From the poorest alley to the grandest inn, everyone spoke of the blonde-haired youth with ruby eyes. His name was whispered with reverence and fear.
After people asked the elder at the registry again and again or even threatened him to know his name, his name finally spread.
"Lucian…"
Even the members of the bandits that gave him clothes after hearing such news thanked their ancestors that they didn't do anything stupid when that young child asked them a favor.
Some claimed he was the reincarnation of a demonic master. Others believed he was a prodigy sent by the heavens. No one knew the truth, but one thing was certain:
The Dragon and Phoenix competition had already claimed its first life, and the games hadn't even begun.