The roar of the crowd shook the colosseum as the two stepped into the arena. Lightning Blade stood tall, his hand on the hilt of his weapon, sparks of blue-white electricity snapping along the steel. Across from him, Redrose's crimson hair swayed like a banner of fire. Behind her, the Infernoheart Salamander crouched low, its back smoldering, heat waves rolling from its scaled body.
The announcer's voice boomed.
"LIGHTNING BLADE! REDROSE! BEGIN!"
The instant the word fell, Lightning Blade surged forward, his figure blurring.
"Thunderstep Slash!" A mid-tier Rank 1 technique. His blade cut forward, leaving a trail of crackling arcs that hissed against the stone.
Redrose raised her palm.
"Flameburst Guard!" A mid-tier Rank 1 defensive art. A wall of searing flame erupted, catching the lightning-coated strike head on. Sparks and embers exploded outward, forcing both fighters back a step.
The crowd roared, hungry for more.
Redrose didn't hesitate. "Blazing Petal Scatter!" A high-tier Rank 1 flame art. Her hand swept wide, and a storm of flame petals ignited midair, swirling like burning lotus petals, rushing toward her opponent.
Lightning Blade's eyes gleamed. He spun his weapon.
"Stormfang Wheel!" A high-tier Rank 1 blade art. His sword whirled, unleashing a storm of lightning arcs that tore through the fiery petals, searing them to ash.
The collision was deafening — thunder and fire crashing together, heat and light filling the colosseum. The audience leaned forward, shouting and screaming, their blood ignited by the clash.
" Inferno—BURN HIM DOWN!" Redrose's voice rang out.
The Infernoheart Salamander roared, flames bursting across its body. It stomped forward, its claws leaving molten cracks in the ground.
"Inferno Crest!" A high-tier Rank 1 beast technique. The flames along its back erupted into a blazing crest, shooting forward like a tidal wave of fire.
Lightning Blade gritted his teeth. Sparks danced along his body as he leapt high into the air.
"Lightning Fang Descent!" His blade fell like a thunderbolt, piercing into the crest of fire with raw force. The clash shook the colosseum walls, sending dust raining from the ceiling.
The Salamander shrieked, its hide scorched, but it refused to fall back.
"Now!" Redrose's palm ignited again.
"Flame Serpent Rush!" A mid-tier Rank 1 art. From the flames coiled a serpent of fire that lunged at Lightning Blade midair.
He spun desperately, calling his own technique.
"Tempest Fang Shatter!" A mid-tier Rank 1 blade art. He cleaved, splitting the serpent apart in a shower of sparks and fire.
Both fighters skidded back, breathing hard. Blood ran down Redrose's arm; Lightning Blade's chest was seared where the serpent's flame had grazed him. The crowd was roaring without pause now, a sea of fists and screams.
Lightning Blade raised his blade once more, lightning surging dangerously. He prepared to finish it.
But Redrose bit down, eyes burning with fury.
Her voice cracked like a whip.
"Crimson Bloom Eruption!"
It was her strongest move — a high-tier Rank 1 art. Flames burst outward from her body, blooming like a storm of roses. The Salamander roared in sync, spewing a final blast of fire into the eruption.
The combined force engulfed Lightning Blade before he could swing. His lightning clashed violently, but it wasn't enough. He was thrown backward, slammed into the arena wall with a thunderous crack.
Silence fell. Then—
"REDROSE!!!" The audience screamed her name, voices rising in a frenzy.
In the arena, Redrose knelt on one knee, her arm trembling, blood dripping down her side. The Salamander limped behind her, its scales blackened and scorched, but still standing, eyes burning with feral pride.
Across the arena, Lightning Blade lay half-buried in rubble, his blade fallen from his grasp, sparks flickering faintly before fading out.
The announcer raised his hand.
"The winner—REDROSE!!!"
The colosseum erupted in wild thunder, the name of the Chi Clan echoing over and over through the stone halls.
Lin Shu leaned against the cold stone wall of the waiting chamber, arms folded, eyes narrowing on the battlefield below as the cheering crowd echoed in his ears. The flames still clung faintly to the arena floor where Redrose and her Salamander had secured their victory.
He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle under his mask.
I"s this the so-called power she warned me about when she told me not to cut in line?" His thoughts dripped with amusement. "Hah… these so-called high-tier arts may impress the audience, but none of them could scratch me. I wouldn't even need to enter Juggernaut Form. My Ivory Monolith alone could withstand all that fire, and my Lightning Fang Surge would tear through that Salamander before it even roared. These people just don't know what true defense and overwhelming force look like."
He tilted his head back, his inner voice filled with contempt. "Even peak-stage cultivators are barely a concern anymore—unless they wield defensive techniques on par with my steel-layered Ivory Armor. Even then, most don't have enough Qi to string together five peak-stage arts in a row, and that's what it would take to break me. Lightning Fang Surge itself is already bordering on a Rank 2 technique, raw and untamed. If even that can't destroy the armor, then these children with their fiery petals and serpents are nothing more than sparks in the dark."
As the applause died down, Redrose stepped proudly from the arena, her Salamander limping behind her but still radiating heat. Her master clapped her on the shoulder with a hearty laugh, offering her a flask of wine. She refused, wiping blood from her lip and trying to keep her composure before the eyes of the crowd. But when her gaze swept across the waiting chamber, it inevitably found Lin Shu.
Their eyes locked as she grinned at him as if to tell him the chance he had lost by not joining her team.
Lin Shu didn't move at first. Then, deliberately, the steel of his mask shifted, reshaping itself. The carved grin stretched wider, pulling unnaturally toward his ears until it resembled a demon's mocking sneer. It was silent, wordless, yet its meaning was unmistakable: Is that all you've got?
Redrose froze for half a second, her victorious stride faltering. That tiny hesitation was enough to betray her thoughts—enough to reveal she hadn't expected to be mocked so brazenly, especially by someone younger and, by all outward appearances, weaker. She turned sharply away, hiding the sting of his silent taunt, but the damage to her pride was already done.
Lin Shu chuckled under his breath. "So fragile. She can't even handle the idea that someone younger might be stronger. She thinks herself exceptional, but there are monsters out there—my age, even younger—who would crush me without breaking a sweat. She doesn't even realize she's not special. I only stand out because I've broken the mold for my stage, carrying the strength of a peak-stage cultivator in my mid-stage body. But that isn't unique. If she can't grasp that truth, then she'll never understand how small she truly is in this world."
Meanwhile, Redrose walked stiffly beside her master, her pride still smoldering as fiercely as her flames. The man noticed immediately. He took another swig from his flask, smirking.
"Why are you glaring in his direction? I know I invited him earlier, but that was just curiosity. I couldn't sense anything remarkable about him. He's just another mid-stage brat—maybe fourteen, fifteen years old at best. If he's still stuck at mid-stage at that age, then he's been cultivating for years, probably since childhood. That means his talent is abysmal, rank one or two at most. You shouldn't waste your time worrying about someone like that."
His tone was unusually serious, the alcohol in his voice briefly replaced by sharp analysis.
Redrose's lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know, Master. After my match, I looked at him because I wanted to remind him what he'd missed when he arrogantly refused our team. I expected him to look regretful, maybe ashamed. But instead…" She trailed off, her fists clenching. "Instead, his mask moved and started to change in form as he made a demonic smile that was meant to mock as if he wasn't impressed by the fight which is to say he thinks he is stronger then me. He didn't even use his mouth. He mocked me—mocked my victory—without a word just using that strange mask on his face. It wasn't just arrogance. It was… certainty. As though he knew he was stronger. That kind of confidence… it's dangerous for someone of his cultivation level. It doesn't come from nothing if he can look at someone with my strength and my peak stage beast and simply smilenin mockery it should be clear he doesn't think we're strong enough for him to join us."
Her master's eyes lingered on her for a long moment, then shifted toward Lin Shu's shadowy figure in the waiting chamber. His lips quirked upward.
"So that's what this is. You're angry because he didn't play his part in your little story. He wasn't supposed to refuse. He wasn't supposed to mock you. He was supposed to crawl, to regret, so you could feel superior. But instead, he made you doubt yourself."
Redrose stiffened but didn't argue.
The man sighed and drank again before continuing, his voice calmer now, but laced with the seasoned pragmatism of someone who had seen countless geniuses rise and fall.
"Listen carefully, girl. Whether he's strong or not doesn't matter right now. If he truly is as strong as you say—if he, a mid-stage, can stand on equal ground with you and your Salamander—then he will naturally draw attention. Investors, agents, even clans will start sniffing around him like hungry wolves. And if that happens, we'll step in early. We'll offer him another chance before he slips too far from reach. Better to tie such a talent down before the rest of the Arena realizes his worth."
He looked her in the eye, his tone firm.
"But until that day comes, you will treat him as nothing. Don't obsess. Don't waste your breath on shadows. If he proves himself, we act. If not, he fades into obscurity like a thousand others and even if he turns out to be a prodigy and we lose our chance at recruiting him it does not matter he is neither an enemy or an ally to us so why should you keep thinking about him if the most your interaction was a few words a few smiles to mock each other. That's all it is nothing more just things people your age do it doesn't mean much this might even be the last time you see him."
Redrose lowered her gaze, her jaw tight. She understood his reasoning—he was right. It was foolish to dwell on someone who hadn't even proven himself in the arena yet. And yet, deep in her heart, she felt a gnawing certainty.
"This won't be the last time I see him," she murmured, almost to herself.
Her master chuckled. "Hah. Perhaps. But whether he becomes an ally or an enemy—that, my dear, will depend on the choices he makes."
Her master leaned back with a grin, arms folded as the crowd roared for the next fight. "Now all we have to do is watch his match and see his worth. Don't blink."
The girl gave a slight nod, lips pressed tight.
He pulled a small flask from his sleeve and offered it to her with a mischievous smile. "Here, drink this. It'll lift your mood."
Redrose frowned immediately, her fiery eyes narrowing. "Master, you know what Mother told me. Things like that cloud a cultivator's mind, dull the spirit, and make one no better than a beast. A cultivator must always remain in their sharpest state, free of such poison. And that—"
"Yeah, yeah," he cut her off, waving his hand with exaggerated disinterest. "You and your mother think you've got all the wisdom in the world. Don't preach at me." He tapped the flask with a chuckle. "Fun's fun, child. You don't know the meaning of it. Go drink milk or whatever kids drink these days."
Her stern composure cracked, a reluctant laugh slipping past her lips despite herself. "You're impossible to change."
"That's why I'm your master." He winked, stashing the flask away as the booming announcement of the next match echoed through the arena. The atmosphere grew heavier, the anticipation of blood and victory seeping into every breath.
Together, master and disciple turned their gazes to the stage. The fights were about to be announced.