Lin Shu stood in silence, arms folded, waiting for his turn to step onto the stage. Around him, nervous chatter spread like wildfire among the gathered challengers.
"Yeah, I don't think I stand a chance if that Lightning Blade guy lost," one youth muttered under his breath, his voice shaky with unease.
Another man nearby scoffed. "He was just unlucky. He went up against a heir of the Chi Clan. You don't have to worry. Just hope your opponent's someone normal."
A third leaned in, lowering his tone. "She's a heir? From the Chi Clan?"
"That's right. At least one of the most prominent ones. Her name's Chi Aoyan, if I recall. And the man with her—her master—is Chi Yanqi. He's… well, he's known as the Drunkard Flame. That's even his title in the arena."
Lin Shu's eyes flickered slightly beneath his calm mask. His thoughts turned inward, cold and measured.
So, she's a heir of the Chi Clan… that explains her strength. An entire clan standing behind her. If I were to join them, I'd gain resources, influence, and protection. But…
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, almost invisible.
…a prodigy like her, with a famed master at her side? They'd overshadow me, cast me into the background. I'd be nothing more than another pawn at their table. Better to join someone weaker, someone without a legendary clan propping them up. That way, I control the spotlight. That way, I rise without chains.
He shifted his weight slightly, eyes never leaving the arena as the next names were about to be announced.
Lin Shu leaned back against the cold stone wall, eyes half-closed, conserving his strength. Suddenly, a name rang out, echoing across the arena.
The commentator's voice, laced with Qi, thundered through every corner of the stands.
"Now for our next match! We have a young man, a high-stage cultivator, hailing from the Ironveil Institute, an institute that has been growing stronger with each passing day! His chosen title is the Gale Phantom!"
The crowd erupted into cheers, chanting and stomping in excitement at the flashy introduction.
The commentator raised his hand again.
"And his opponent… is a boy carrying the title of Behemoth."
For a moment, silence swept through the arena. The commentator gave no further details—no clan name, no sect affiliation, no institute background. Just a title. The audience's excitement waned almost instantly, muttering voices spreading through the stands.
"So that's it?" someone scoffed. "No backstory, no name, nothing?"
"Probably some nobody. This fight's already over."
"Yeah, against the Gale Phantom? He's finished."
Lin Shu stepped forward, the pale mask of a demon covering his face. He had expected whispers of fear, a chill to spread through the crowd at the sight of him. Instead, laughter and chuckles rolled through the seats.
"Hah! What's with that mask?"
"He looks like a street performer!"
"Demonic face? Please, anyone could smash that to pieces!"
Behind the mask, Lin Shu's gaze stayed sharp and cold.
"So this is what they see… prey they can kill, not a predator they can't fight or escape from they'll talk to the weak or at least those who they think are weak but would never even dare plot against the strong nor risk their life to get something from them play it safe they say."
He walked calmly toward the arena floor, each step measured, not letting their scorn weigh on him.
The Gale Phantom smirked, his steps light as air as he looked Lin Shu up and down.
"Quite a grand name for such a small child, don't you think?"
Lin Shu remained silent, not even sparing him a glance. Inwardly, he debated if answering was even worth the effort.
The judge stepped between them, his voice stern and edged with authority.
"No pills or elixirs allowed. Killing is forbidden. If either of you is at death's door, I will intervene. This is a sanctioned match—so fight without restraint, but within the rules."
He went on to cover the finer details, loopholes closed with practiced efficiency. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed them back to their corners.
The commentator's voice erupted, Qi amplifying his words until they shook the entire colosseum.
"GALE PHANTOM! BEHEMOTH! ARE YOU BOTH READY?"
The fighters nodded.
"THEN BEGIN—THE BATTLE FOR VALOR!"
The Gale Phantom's figure blurred instantly, his body weaving across the arena with dazzling speed. His movement was a high-tier art, his afterimages trailing like shards of wind. The crowd roared at his speed, their voices blending into one thundering wave of approval.
Lin Shu, however, only walked. Slow, deliberate, unbothered. Not even attempting to form a stance.
The audience turned vicious.
"Fight, coward!"
"Run home, boy!"
Boos and curses rained down like arrows, but Lin Shu did not flinch.
The Gale Phantom narrowed his eyes. Something was off. His instincts screamed at him. So he tested the waters—his finger flicked, condensing Qi into a bullet of slicing wind. The mid-tier technique screamed across the stage, tearing through stone as it shot at Lin Shu.
Lin Shu raised his bare arm.
CRACK.
The bullet struck with the force to pierce boulders. But Lin Shu wasn't pushed back. His flesh tore, blood welled—yet before the crowd could even gasp, the wound sealed itself shut, the skin knitting back together.
Lin Shu's laughter rolled across the arena. Deep. Mocking. Unshaken.
The Gale Phantom froze.
"That was a mid-tier wind bullet... and he took it head on? Not even with a defensive technique? Just his body... What kind of monster body art is this? Peak-tier? Or something... more?"
His feet slowed, the dazzling speed that earned him his name faltering. He circled cautiously now, searching, probing for weaknesses in the boy who stood so arrogantly still.
Lin Shu understood. This was his stage. His chance. And every move mattered. He wasn't simply fighting—he was crafting a persona. The mask, the silence, the arrogance—it wasn't random. Before this match, he had asked himself: who is the most talked about in this arena? Who is eternal? The answer was simple. The Arena Master. A man of few words, overwhelming presence, and the ability to command respect without trying.
Lin Shu chuckled, his mask twisting into a grotesque grin.
"Where did that confidence go, Breeze?"
The crowd, so easily swayed, erupted into laughter and mockery. Their boos turned into jeers—aimed at the Gale Phantom this time. Agitation brewed like a storm.
The Gale Phantom clenched his jaw. He couldn't let his reputation die here, not in front of thousands. With a shout, he unleashed a volley of wind bullets, each one shrieking through the air like blades.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Lin Shu swatted some aside with his steel-forged strength, others grazing him, leaving small cuts that sealed in moments. One drop of blood hit the arena floor before vanishing as the wound closed.
The mask contorted further, stretching into a sadistic expression that sent a ripple of unease even through the bloodthirsty crowd.
Lin Shu raised his arm, Qi-infused voice echoing like thunder.
"I think playtime's over. Don't you agree?"
His flesh shifted, steel surging forth. In seconds his arm transformed into a massive blade, gleaming like a predator's fang. With one motion he leveled it at the Gale Phantom.
Then, with the ground cracking beneath his stride, Lin Shu charged.
Lin Shu stormed forward, his steps like an avalanche tearing through the calm. His movement was a blur, his speed shocking the crowd that had dismissed him moments earlier. Gasps echoed across the arena as the so-called Behemoth moved faster than the Gale Phantom, the very opponent famed for speed.
The Phantom's eyes widened as he darted sideways, wind blades roaring into existence with each frantic sweep of his arms. They sliced through the air with shrieking force, sharp enough to pierce steel, yet Lin Shu's steel blade flashed without hesitation. Each arc of his swing shredded the blades apart as if they were paper banners. Sparks danced across the stage, the sound of steel breaking Qi making the audience shudder.
"Impossible… he's faster than the Gale Phantom!" one spectator muttered, his voice trembling.
The Gale Phantom's breathing grew harsher as Lin Shu pressed closer and closer, his movements merciless, each swing of his blade precise and unrelenting. It was no longer a contest of equals but a show—a plaything in Lin Shu's hands. The Phantom leapt back, hands trembling, and then roared as he gathered the last of his Qi.
Wind howled, tearing into a raging spiral around him as he shouted, "Tempest Slash!" His figure blurred within the storm, and a colossal blade of wind, bright and deafening, surged forward with devastating force.
The crowd erupted in awe, believing Lin Shu would finally be overwhelmed. Yet the Behemoth only laughed, a deep, cold sound that rolled across the arena like thunder. He raised his left hand, coating it in an ivory coated with steel as Ivory forge juggernaut surged to life.
The raging storm split against his palm. The high-tier technique—the attack that should have shredded Boulders—halted as if it had slammed into an immovable wall. With one hand, Lin Shu stopped it, his laughter echoing louder than the Phantom's desperate roar.
The Phantom collapsed to the ground, his knees buckling, disbelief carved into every line of his face. His body trembled, unable to accept what his eyes saw. Lin Shu stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar with one arm, and hoisted him up like a broken doll. The Phantom's feet barely touched the stage, his body forced into a kneeling posture, his pride shattered before the countless eyes watching.
Lin Shu leaned close, laughter spilling from beneath his mask, cold and merciless. With a flick, he tossed the defeated cultivator aside as though discarding worthless prey.
The arena fell silent. Then, the commentator's voice, still amplified by Qi, rang out almost in disbelief: "Victory goes to… the Behemoth!"
The crowd erupted, yet it was not cheers for Lin Shu. It was fear, awe, and unease, the sound of hearts realizing they had underestimated a monster.