"I am Ethan Brightsword," said Ethan. He stood tall, his voice flat and calm, entirely unbothered by the suffocating spiritual pressure rolling off the powerful cultivator before him.
"And I am Roy, I have no family name," said Roy. He held his bloody katana at his side, his posture rigid and unyielding as he glared back at the man.
"Good... very good," said the Chief Instructor. He took a slow breath, his sharp eyes lingering on Ethan for a long moment before he glanced at the severed heads on the stairs. "The selection trials are about to begin. Do not overdo it."
To the crowd's absolute shock, the powerhouse of the Spiritual Soul Realm did not strike them down. Instead, the name Ethan Brightsword was currently ringing like a violent thunderclap inside the Chief Instructor's ears. He had heard the frantic rumors from the outpost elders earlier that morning.
