All the crowds were left dumbfounded by the results of this competition. A heavy silence lingered over the arena, followed by scattered murmurs that spread like ripples in water. Unlike everyone's expectations, more evil or unaffiliated individuals stood victorious than those from the factions of the Righteous Alliance; some competitors from even prestigious sects lay heavily injured, while others had fallen and would never rise again.
"Is this real…?" a spectator whispered, his voice trembling as he clutched his betting slip.
"They're supposed to be disciples of the Nine Great Sects…" another muttered in disbelief. "How did she lose so easily?"
They're talking about Song Areum of the Celestial Sound Pavilion. The only disciple of 9 great sect who didn't manage to even step on the second rounds after being defeated by a demonic master Seo Hwa-rin, who is also known as the Crimson Flower of Murim.
A woman in a silk veil tsked, shaking her head. "They've been dueling amongst themselves for too long. Real combat doesn't wait for theatrics."
Thanks to the overwhelming battle strength Lucian displayed at the registry, many evil factions had withdrawn their participation altogether, leaving only those truly confident in their skills and those battle maniacs whose only planning on watching this competition for amusement even joined just to duel Lucian after they clearly witnessed him killing the Ferocious Tiger Warrior. Without realizing it, he had shattered the Alliance Leader's carefully laid schemes, turning the competition into something far more unpredictable.
From a high vantage point, hidden behind a beaded curtain, Righteous Heavenly Dragon Zheng Tianlong, the revered leader of the Righteous Alliance, watched the matches with a calm yet indescribable expression. His hands rested lightly on the rail before him, but his sharp eyes never strayed from the boy in black. The young lad's strength was terrifying—maybe even surpassing his own. But even that wasn't what had unsettled him most.
His gaze shifted to the sword in Lucian's hand.
"As I thought…" Zheng Tianlong muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a faint chill that only those closest to him could sense. "Isn't that… the Soul-Rending Demon Sword?"
The name alone would have sent ripples of fear through the arena if spoken aloud.
The Soul-Rending Demon Sword—an infamous blade etched deep into the annals of Murim's bloody history—once belonged to the 3rd Heavenly Demon Cult Leader, Jeonglak Cheonma, known widely as the Blood Sovereign Heavenly Demon.
"Impossible…" Zheng Tianlong narrowed his eyes. "Didn't the records say it was lost when the Blood Sovereign vanished? How… is it in this boy's hands? Could he… be tied to the Heavenly Demon Cult?"
He was not the only one who noticed. Hidden in plain sight, the Beggar's Union and Hao Sect members exchanged subtle glances, their information networks already racing to confirm what their eyes were telling them. Deeper in the shadows, spies from the Heavenly Demon Cult stiffened, their breaths quiet but heavy with astonishment. It's like they saw a divine artifact that once used by their God; Jeonglak didn't leave it in the Heavenly Demon Cult so it is indeed got lost but now it appeared in front of them. They have so many questions to asked Lucian but calmed themselves since they are still at the territory Righteous Alliance.
To those who lived and breathed in Murim's underworld, this was more than a curiosity—it was a storm about to erupt.
The Blood Sovereign Heavenly Demon's reputation was the stuff of legend. A revered and feared martial master, Jeonglak Cheonma's by his unfathomable skill—even more so is his unpredictable and unique personality. Even more mysterious than the Heavenly Demon Cult's founder, his sudden disappearance had given rise to rumors that he ascended beyond the mortal realm itself.
"Wait…" whispered one spy, his voice trembling. "Isn't that… the Void Reaping Steps? The movement art the entire Demonic Sect failed to reclaim?"
The more they whispered, the heavier the atmosphere grew. To the uninformed and normal martial artist, Lucian was just another strong competitor. But to those who knew Murim's secrets, he was a walking calamity.
Lucian himself was oblivious. His master had never once told him to hide the Soul-Rending Demon Sword, nor warned him of its nature. He never asked, either. To him, it was simply a gift—he didn't know that it was the last trial Jeonglak preparerd for him.
This weapon was Jeonglak's final gift and ultimate trial for Lucian. If Lucian had been consumed by its malice, it would mean he had failed to truly master the Heart-Devouring Demon Scripture. But because he stood there, blade at his side, uncorrupted, it was proof of his mastery. The Soul-Rending Demon Sword was bound to him now, recognizing him as its one and only master, and it would never serve another until he passed it on to another person he will teach the Heart-Devouring Demon Scripture. It is entirely up to him.
But those who knew its legend would tremble at its description. Forged from Heavenly Star Iron—a celestial metal said to have fallen from the heavens during a storm of shooting stars—the sword was tempered in the blood of one hundred of that era's worst criminals. The weapon devoured the souls of those it slew and corrupted those who dared lay hands on it, driving them to madness and death. It was not a tool. It was a living being. And it chose its master.
Lucian's ability to wield it was proof enough: he had mastered the Heart-Devouring Demon Scripture. Had he faltered, the sword would have consumed him long before he stepped into this arena. And only those of the higher ups of Heavenly Demon Cult know of this. A cultivation the Heavenly Demon Cult is eager to revive but no matter what it just resulted to a lesser product like the Blood-Devouring Secret Technique that is now banned in the Heavenly Demon Cult.
Back in the present:
The competition had ended with only 200 participants left from the original 500. Shockingly, 65% of them were from evil factions or unaffiliated sects. The murmur of the crowd carried disbelief and unease.
"Evil faction brats taking the lead? This… This is unprecedented…"
"Didn't the Righteous Alliance arrange this competition to showcase their strength? What a joke!"
"Ha! Look at them now. All those years of arrogance—useless!"
Lucian was nowhere to be seen, having left the arena swiftly after his match. But one person remained, standing frozen on the platform, his sword arm trembling slightly.
Jin Hyeon-ryu.
"How… did that happen? What… what exactly happened?" His thoughts echoed in the emptiness of the arena. "So… that Lucian really is that strong? Seventeen? They said he was only seventeen…"
The prodigy's pride had been crushed. Even his legendary duel with Moyong Seojin had ended in a draw, and now this—he had been humiliated. Lucian hadn't even looked at him the whole match, like he's so insignificant that the young lad didn't even bother to alert itself. It was the first time Jin had ever felt so thoroughly disregarded.
And yet…
His heart pounded. Not with shame, but with excitement. "Finally… a rival."
The so-called genius of a mid-tier sect, who surpassed many disciples of great clans, had always been lazy. Jin Hyeon-ryu never exerted himself fully; a draw here and there was enough to satisfy him. But Lucian? Jin Hyeon-ryu knew that even at his best, he wouldn't have stood a chance.
He had been one of the few to truly see Lucian's technique, but his body had been far too slow to even react. The young lad's swordmanship is refined only for killing and not duels like this hence it was precise and fast; targeting the enemies weak points. The brief moment the cursed blade rested on his neck was enough to shake his mind to its core. In that instant, he had almost succumbed to madness. If not for his exceptional mental fortitude, he would have been consumed.
He went back to his sect and set a new goal: he wanted to follow Lucian. He wanted to see more of this young lad who had defeated him. And as you can see, Jin Hyeon-ryu wasn't exactly normal in the head either. Maybe it's true that you attract what you are.
Meanwhile, the gambling house buzzed with life. Men slammed down silver taels, women in embroidered robes laughed behind painted fans, and the name on everyone's lips was the same.
"Lucian. That boy's the black horse of this entire tournament."
"Did you see him? Like a shadow, faster than thought itself!"
"Bah, it's all luck. Bet on Moyong Seojin if you want a safe wager."
"Safe? Hah! I just made five times my silver because of that boy. Keep your safe bets."
By now, gossip spread faster than wildfire: Lucian's match had been too easy. Too clean. Too fast.
Of course, there were two others who had stirred similar whispers.
The first was the demonic master Seo Hwa-rin, also known as the Murim's Crimson Flower, who effortlessly defeated Song Areum of the Celestial Sound Pavilion, one of the Nine Great Sects. Her performance was so elegant that even her enemies had watched in awe.
The second was a foreigner—Matheus. His name was strange to native tongues, his face unfamiliar and his style unorthodox. But his strength spoke volumes. In the span of three exchanges, his opponent had fallen, unable to rise.
The three of them—Lucian, Seo Hwa-rin, and Matheus—had stolen the spotlight. Even Moyong Seojin, once touted as the brightest genius of his generation, paled in comparison. And this is quite the blow for the righteous factions reputation. It is no exaggeration even if others will say that their later generation are weak because the result are in front of them. It was a slap on their face. Their so-called reputation of being a genius are being reconsider by the people. They become a frog in the well.
But no matter what others says, they are indeed unlucky genius that becom the stepping stone of those three and the worst part is; the competition only began.
This was no mere tournament anymore. This was a gathering of monsters forged not in sect courtyards but in battlefields and bloodshed.
And so, with tension thick enough to choke the air, the second round was about to begin.