Lin Shu left the rented training ground, his heart still burning with the thrill of mastery.
On his face was an ivory mask, now coated with steel through the Steelcore Art. He had shaped it into the visage of a laughing demon—its hollow grin frozen in mockery. He believed it might plant hesitation in his opponents… though he forgot one simple fact.
He had not yet reached twelve years of age.
Even if his height stretched close to a youth of fourteen or fifteen, to most eyes, he was still only a boy. A boy with a demon's mask.
Still, in the great clans, this was the age of trial and blood—when children were cast into the world with tasks or missions to prove their worth. Lin Shu would prove himself here, in the Valor Arena.
The grand gates opened before him, swallowing him into the thunderous hall. Rows of counters lined the entrance, and fighters queued to register. Some turned when they saw him, masks gleaming, and laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Cute little mask you have there, boy," one sneered, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I bet people will soil themselves the moment they see you."
The crowd chuckled.
"Oh, don't tell me you're mute? At least speak a little. Maybe they'll piss themselves if they hear your voice!"
The laughter grew.
Lin Shu's eyes narrowed behind his demon mask. Disrespect was dangerous. Disrespect meant weakness. And weakness could never be allowed.
In a blur, he seized the mocking man by the throat. The high-stage cultivator had no time to react before he was slammed to the floor with bone-cracking force. Gasps rang out. Lin Shu twisted the man's wrist slowly, deliberately.
"You were saying?" His voice was cold.
The man howled for mercy.
The laughter died at once. Silence spread like a plague. Lin Shu lifted the man by the neck and tossed him aside like garbage. Then, without a word, he moved forward in the line. The message was clear: he would do the same to any who thought to mock him.
He was nearly at the tenth place when a girl stepped forward to block him. She had fiery red hair and the bearing of someone older—sixteen or seventeen perhaps. Her eyes were sharp as blades.
"I think that's enough, isn't it?" she said coolly.
Lin Shu turned his head slightly. The fighters ahead of her were pointedly ignoring the commotion. Each radiated high or peak-stage cultivation. They did not look concerned. They did not look afraid. And Lin Shu knew he could fight them now… but too many enemies made too many problems. Better to kill in silence than to be remembered and marked.
Then he felt it.
A presence behind the girl. Heavy. Oppressive. His instincts screamed danger. A Rank 2 cultivator.
Lin Shu shifted slightly, eyes narrowing.
The source was a man with red hair streaked by age, face marked by faint wrinkles. He swayed with a wineskin in hand, drinking openly. His gaze landed on Lin Shu, and instead of pressure, there was only amusement.
"Smart choice, kid," the man chuckled, sloshing his drink. "I think you'll do quite well around here. Hahahaha!"
Lin Shu did not laugh.
"Master," the red-haired girl muttered with irritation, "can you stop drinking already? I don't want to carry you again."
"That has never happened," the old man said flatly, before taking another long swig.
Lin Shu's heart remained steady, but his thoughts turned sharp. A drunkard or not, this man was a Rank 2 cultivator. Lin Shu could survive against such opponents, perhaps… but kill or defeat them? Not yet. He was not reckless enough to test it.
The line inched forward. Then the man's voice cut across the hall again.
"What's your name, kid?"
Lin Shu turned slightly, meeting his gaze. He had already decided not to use his real name. Many fighters here bore titles instead—names crafted to carve their image into memory. That was why he had forged his mask with such care. The right title would carry him further than any boast.
He had considered many: Juggernaut. Monolith. Behemoth. All carried the weight of defense, of unyielding strength. But one spoke louder than the rest.
" Behemoth," Lin Shu said simply.
The old man barked laughter. "That's a good name! Hahaha! So, Behemoth… what do you think about joining my team of fighters, huh? We're new, but I can assure you—it's the best chance you'll get."
Lin Shu was about to refuse when the red-haired girl cut in, her eyes sharp.
"It's not easy to draw the attention of a Rank 2 cultivator as an agent. You'd do well to consider it. After all, attacking an unsuspecting washed-up high-stage cultivator doesn't make you stronger than one. Not in a real fight."
Her words were pointed. Mocking, almost. She was scrutinizing him, dismissing his show of force as cowardly.
Lin Shu chuckled softly beneath his mask. "I'll think about it."
"Whatever suits you, kid," the old man said, raising his drink once more.
Lin Shu's turn finally came after the girl with the red hair registered. It seemed she was here with her master, a man already holding the title of fighter. He stood beside her, calm and unmoving, while she went through the formalities.
When Lin Shu stepped forward, he placed down five hundred gold coins to register as a fighter. The man behind the counter looked up from the coins and asked what name he wished to have carved on his token.
"Behemoth," Lin Shu said, his voice steady and cold.
The clerk's lips curved faintly, amused by the choice, but he nodded and etched the word into the token before sliding it across the desk. "Enjoy your time here, Behemoth."
Lin Shu accepted it without a single word, pocketing the token before moving on to the next counter where fighters signed up for their matches.
And there they were again—the girl and her master.
"Well, well, isn't fate something? We meet again, hahaha," the man said, his laugh low and unrestrained.
The girl scowled. "We're doing the same things. Of course we're going to run into each other. Can you stop with this fate nonsense?"
"Alright, as you say, Redrose," her master replied, chuckling as if savoring the chance to mock the title she clearly started to hate because of him.
The girl's shoulders sagged in resignation, her lips pressing into a thin line as she ignored him and signed her name onto the roster.
Lin Shu, watching all of this, felt his patience wearing thin. Constant talkers. Constant noise. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of these irritating people and be left in silence.
At last, his turn came. He signed up without hesitation, choosing a match meant for newcomers—a fight that would decide if he was worthy of keeping his token, if he was to remain among those ranked as true fighters or cast out before he even began.
Lin Shu stepped into the waiting hall, where the muffled roar of the colosseum bled through the stone walls. When he entered, the view opened to a grand arena—a massive colosseum with tiered seats stretching high above, filled with a roaring crowd. In the center was the bloodstained sand pit where fighters clashed, and on the edges were waiting zones for those whose turn had not yet come.
He leaned against the cold wall, his gaze indifferent as cheers and jeers rolled like thunder from above. Fighters walked past, some nervous, some trembling, some pacing back and forth as if they could run from their own fear. Lin Shu stood still, silent, only his eyes shifting toward the battles unfolding in the pit.
One match ended, then another, blood painting the ground darker with each fallen fighter. This… was another reason why agents were considered so valuable here. With an agent, you didn't have to waste hours waiting for your turn. Agents secured the match time, ensured better conditions, and if the fighter brought profit, the agent would protect and promote them as their own investment. Without one, you were thrown into the randomness of the schedule, left waiting endlessly until someone called your name.
Lin Shu had considered it. An agent could be useful. But certainly not that red-haired fool with a disciple—such a man would obviously favor his own. If Lin Shu ever chose one, it would be someone without ties, someone who could dedicate their full attention to the fighters that bring the most wealth not emotions. For now, though, he endured the wait.
Then, a voice boomed across the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome our next fight! A trial match that will decide who earns the right to join the great Valor Arena! Two newcomers will clash, and only one will claim their place!"
The crowd erupted, stomping feet and shaking the stands.
"On the right side, hailing from the north, once a disciple of the Thunderpeak Institute, a blade that splits the skies—his title here is Lightning Blade!"
Cheers broke out as the young man stepped into the sand, his sword gleaming under the torches.
"And as for his opponent…" the announcer paused, letting the silence stretch before the voice thundered again, "…her origin alone should already set your hearts aflame! Her power burns explosive and furious, a storm of fire itself! From one of the most powerful clans among you all, we present—the Redrose of the Chi Clan!"
The colosseum shook. Cries of excitement ripped through the air at the mention of the Chi Clan. Their brutal, ferocious fighting style was a spectacle all cultivators relished. And more than that, everyone expected a beast. The Chi Clan was infamous for their beast taming, and no member entered a battle without one.
She stepped into the arena with unhurried steps, her crimson hair trailing like fire in the wind. Then, a piercing screech tore from the tunnels of the colosseum walls. A massive shape emerged, claws striking sparks against the stone.
A beast.
A peak stage Rank 1 Infernoheart Salamander.
Its scales burned with molten fire, flames rippling across its spine as heat distorted the air around it. Its crimson eyes gleamed like living embers, locked fiercely upon its master as it let out a guttural roar that shook the ground. The crowd roared back in delight, hungry to watch it unleash its fury.
Lin Shu's lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
He remembered when the mere sight of such a beast could chill his blood, when its roar would have driven instinctive fear into his bones. But now… now things were different.
If he wished, he could tear that beast apart. He wouldn't even need to call upon the full might of his Ivory Forge Juggernaut. His Ivory Monolith and Lightning Fang Surge alone would be more than enough.
Without trouble.