The news of Wang Chung's victories and the assassins' defeat spread like wildfire through the Falling Sky Sect. Whispers filled the halls — some with awe, others with dread.
Elder Jian sat atop his throne in the sect's grand hall, his jade mask glinting under the flickering candlelight. His voice was cold, laced with authority and menace.
"Wang Chung is a threat to everything we built. He must be stopped before he destroys the sect's order."
The elders murmured their agreement. But among the disciples, a quiet unrest grew. Many saw Wang Chung as a symbol of hope — proof that even the lowest could rise.
Wang Chung's cultivation soared, fueled by the fragments of his shattered seal. His power now rivaled the sect's strongest elites, his presence a living challenge to the sect's rigid hierarchy.
The day came when Wang Chung stood face to face with Elder Jian in the sect's training arena, the crowd silent with anticipation.
Jian's voice cut through the tension. "You've grown arrogant, boy. You think your stolen memories make you a king? You're still an outcast."
Wang Chung's eyes burned with quiet fury. "I'm not asking for your approval. I'm here to claim my destiny."
The duel erupted with explosive force—energy colliding, shaking the pillars of the sect's ancient hall. Jian's skill was formidable, but Wang Chung fought with something fiercer — the raw, unyielding will of a storm breaking free.
The battle ended in a stalemate, but the message was clear: Wang Chung was no longer just a crippled disciple. He was a force that could shatter heavens and sect alike.
Outside the arena, the sect's foundations trembled — a new era was dawning.