After everyone settled in that white chamber, Sheo quietly observed the room. There were nine other participants, each looking tense but determined. Then, a calm, steady voice echoed through the space, explaining the test.
"This test is simple," the voice said. "Before you is an Energy Converger Sphere. All you need to do is inject your energy into it. According to the purity and density of your energy, the sphere will emit a specific color."
The participants listened attentively as the explanation continued.
"If the color is brown, you will be ranked E. If it's green, you will be ranked D. Orange corresponds to C rank. Red is B rank." He paused for a moment, letting the tension build. "And if you get gold, you will receive A rank."
The instructor then added, "Anyone who reaches gold rank will be personally tested by me before their rank is confirmed."
After the instructions were clear, one by one, the participants began stepping forward, placing their hands on the sphere and injecting their energy. Flashes of color appeared in the room—mostly orange and green—lighting up the space briefly before fading.
Soon, only four people remained.
A girl slowly moved towards the sphere. Sheo immediately recognized her—it was Rukia. As she placed her soft hand on the sphere, a brilliant red light illuminated the entire room. She smiled and returned to her place. She noticed Sheo but, not knowing his name, simply observed him silently, curious to see his result.
Next, Noshera stepped forward. With a confident gaze, he placed his hand over the sphere. In the next second, the room shook slightly, and a radiant gold light burst forth, dazzling everyone.
After him, Olive approached the sphere. Without hesitation, she placed her hand upon it. As expected, another golden light erupted, matching Noshera's performance.
The room was filled with awe and admiration for the two. Everyone thought the test was nearly complete, and their attention was still on Noshera and Olive when another figure, covered in black, slowly walked toward the sphere. The participants barely noticed him; they were too busy discussing the two prodigies.
Sheo took a deep breath. He had never checked his energy in this manner before, but his heart was calm. He extended his hand and touched the sphere.
In the entire room, only one person focused on Sheo's result—Lord Fang himself. His calm eyes observed every movement.
At first, nothing happened. The sphere remained silent. Everyone began murmuring, ready to dismiss Sheo.
But then the room froze. The ground trembled as if the whole space would collapse.
Suddenly, the sphere erupted with a sequence of lights—brown, green, orange, red, gold—all appearing at once, cycling rapidly. Confusion spread across the room, but the phenomenon didn't stop there.
A radiant white light replaced all the colors, blinding and overwhelming. Before anyone could react, that white light slowly faded into a pitch-black brilliance—a black that wasn't dull but radiant, pulsing with energy.
The sheer pressure cracked the walls. The protective formation of the room collapsed under the weight of that energy. Even the sphere itself began to creak, fractures spreading across its surface.
At the moment of collapse, a calm voice pierced through the chaos. A white light appeared, pushing Sheo back from the sphere. That light stabilized the room, suppressing the overwhelming energy and sealing the sphere before it shattered.
Lord Fang stared at Sheo with an unreadable expression. Then he brought out a list and read aloud.
"Noshera. Olive." He paused briefly before continuing. "Shinren."
The rest of the participants were dismissed, their tests complete and their ranks updated. No one dared to underestimate the black-robed boy now. The name Shinren echoed in their minds, carrying a weight no one expected.
Then, under Lord Fang's guidance, Noshera, Olive, and Sheo followed him silently out of the room.
Sheo, Noshera, and Olive were led into a different room.
It was bathed in white, just like the previous chambers. A large ring dominated the center of the room, and a selection of weapons rested neatly against the walls. The atmosphere was heavy, laced with unspoken tension. All three stood quietly, awaiting the arrival of Lord Fang.
After what Noshera and Olive had witnessed earlier, they could no longer speak with their usual ease. Their confidence, once steady, now wavered. The silence grew awkward. It clung to the air, thick and uncomfortable.
Then, the door opened.
Lord Fang entered with calm precision, adjusting his glasses as he stepped in. His presence alone altered the weight of the room.
He glanced at Noshera and said plainly, "Choose a weapon and attack me. Everything that is your own power is allowed. Land one attack."
Noshera gave a small nod. Without hesitation, he moved to the side and picked up a spear. His movements were quick, focused. He circulated his energy, and in the next instant, launched himself at Lord Fang.
For fifteen minutes, he unleashed a storm of attacks—intricate patterns, rapid strikes, well-formed gene arts. Yet not a single blow landed.
Lord Fang didn't even raise his hand.
Noshera stepped back, drenched in sweat and frustration, his expression dim. He returned to his place silently.
Next came Olive. She selected a sword.
Her movements were elegant, her sword mind strong. She pushed herself, hoping to succeed where Noshera had failed. But though her swordplay showed strength and resolve, she too failed to make contact. Still, she did manage to pressure him slightly more.
Even so, she stepped back, disappointment in her eyes.
Then, Lord Fang looked at Sheo.
"Shinren. You're next."
Sheo walked forward slowly. He picked up a sword—but didn't draw it. Instead, he stood quietly, eyes scanning the space around him. Then, he made a few quick hand seals. With a resonant roar, a tiger spirit formed before him and lunged toward Lord Fang.
Sheo knew the truth.
He couldn't manifest the full potential of the Five Life Beast Soul technique—not yet. That technique demanded the beast's soul essence and condensed blood to reach true power. What he conjured now was only a fragment, a lesser echo of its might.
Still, as the tiger rushed forward, Fang's eyes narrowed.
The technique had potential. But the power wasn't enough. With a flick of his hand, Fang easily deflected the beast. But in that moment, a sharp, precise sword intent surged toward his neck.
Fang smiled to himself.
"So… a weak, fast attack to bait out a false move—and then, a real strike hidden in the aftermath. Clever," he muttered.
He added softly, "If that's the case, then yes—I would have been hit by one. But… I never said I wouldn't retaliate."
With a sudden motion, Fang extended his arm. His sword flashed, parrying Sheo's strike. But then, his eyes caught something—an energy-formed blade concealed within the tiger's fading body. It came slicing through the air, aimed straight at him.
Fang bent low, narrowly avoiding it.
Sheo leapt forward at that exact moment. In his other hand, he gripped the conjured sword. Now wielding two blades, he unleashed a rapid, unpredictable barrage.
He had practiced dual wielding during his training at the Sky Class Sect. He took great interest in it—and over time, had integrated it into his speed-based sword style. The pattern of his dual wielding differed from his single sword technique, concealing his identity.
His arms moved almost independently. The attacks seemed chaotic, untraceable. Deadly.
Fang, however, danced between them gracefully.
He didn't just defend. He began to counter.
To Noshera and Olive, it was shocking. This wasn't just Lord Fang brushing away their attacks. He had to actively fight Sheo—and even attack back.
That alone proved how skilled Sheo was.
But Sheo didn't stop there.
He gritted his teeth. One of his blades lit up—engulfed in divine white flame. He didn't want to reveal his flame core, especially not the blue flame others like Kiana had seen. So, he refined it slightly, altering its hue and feel.
Then, he released his sword mind.
It was modified—different from his usual one, enough to mask its identity.
As Fang felt the sudden rise in pressure and sharpness, he responded. His own sword mind flared—at the pinnacle of the Santara level. The room trembled slightly with their clash.
No techniques. No showy moves.
Just pure swordsmanship.
Their duel continued—sharp, fluid, and relentless. After five minutes, both moved in for the final exchange.
And then… it ended.
A clean slash ran through Fang's robe, straight across his chest. Yet it hadn't harmed him. The control in Sheo's strike was surgical.
But Sheo knew.
If Fang had willed it—he could have ended him.
Fang adjusted his glasses. "Interesting."
He looked down at his palm—a shallow cut traced across it. It was nothing serious, not life-threatening. But it was there.
Fang turned away.
"The test is over. Your results will be updated on your steric tokens. You may leave."
Without another word, he exited the room.
In the hallway, a girl leaned casually against the wall.
She spoke, her voice light but taunting. "So, did the ruthless Fang go easy on the new boy?"
Fang didn't even glance at her.
Emotionless, he replied, "That kid's energy purity is already beyond S-class. His skills are almost equal to mine. If my level had been suppressed to match his, I would have been dead."
And with that, he left.
Inside, Sheo also exited the room—through a different route. He had already sensed the crowd outside using his Space Heart.
Changing his clothes, he blended into the gathering throng.
And now… in Galion City…
The name "Shinren" was on every tongue.
Away from the bustling crowds and curious whispers, Sheo quietly moved through the narrower alleys of Galion City. His footsteps were steady, unhurried, as if the noise behind him belonged to a different world. Soon, he arrived at a modest local inn, tucked not far from the grand Adventurers Association building.
He stepped into the main hall of the inn. The scent of warm wood and faint smoke lingered in the air. He moved toward the reception and quickly arranged for a room. The rent was simple—two stargems per day. Without exchanging many words, he took the key and ascended the creaking stairs to his room.
Once inside, he locked the door with precision, set down his belongings, and activated isolating formations along the walls. The quiet hum of energy sealed the room in calm silence. He then reached into his storage ring and pulled out his Adventurer Steric Token.
Two capital A's were engraved into its surface, glowing faintly with a powerful formation that seemed to pulse with authority. It was rare for first-time registrants to earn such a rank. He studied it for a moment, eyes steady.
Name – Shinren
Rank – AA
Role – Hunter
A small notification blinked at the corner of the token, listing features and options he could now access. He skimmed through them, then set it aside with a shake of his head. His attention shifted to planning his next move.
Far away, within a towering building adorned with banners and guards, three elders stepped into a large hall. Their faces carried clear tension, lines of stress carved deep from sleepless nights. Without pause, they were escorted into a private chamber where a figure sat motionless on a throne—his gaze sharp, unwavering.
The air inside that chamber was stifling.
One elder stepped forward and bowed. "My Lord, we've searched the forest and nearby mountain ranges thoroughly. The source of that energy… it's nowhere to be found. Our scouting elders are still on the expedition."
Another added with hesitation, "Even the three great academies have begun investigations, but there is still no sign… no trace."
He paused, then lowered his head further. "If we delay this any longer, the Adventurers Association might uncover it first. Especially with that one… Fang. I believe he's already begun moving."
The figure on the throne remained silent for a moment. Then, in a voice that carried weight and command, he responded.
"We will make the announcement at the auction hall. Prepare the treasure. Present it after the auction concludes."
At another end of the city, in a high-rise office lined with sealed scrolls and reports, Fang sat at his desk, deep in thought. The results of the recent test continued to linger in his mind. Noshera and Olive had performed as expected—nothing surprising. But that third participant…
Shinren.
His appearance had altered the flow of events completely.
Fang leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed. His thoughts swirled with possibilities, with questions.
And just as he was lost in that silence, the door creaked open.
A figure stepped inside, casual and confident. She smiled, her tone light.
"You look so cute when you're this deep in thought."
Fang looked up, his eyes meeting hers. It was the same woman from the hallway. She walked over, settled casually on the table in front of him, and tilted his face slightly toward her with one hand.
"So, Mr. Handsome… are you free tomorrow?"
Fang raised a brow. "Stop. You know the last thing I am right now is free."
He gestured toward the documents on his desk.
"Did you get the background on that participant?"
With a slight pout, she nodded. "I tried everything—called in every informant and favor. But there's nothing. The name—Shinren—only first appears near the eastern boundary. Before that? Nothing. It's like he just... appeared."
She handed him the file.
Fang's eyes skimmed it quickly. Sparse. Incomplete. Suspicious.
He circled the word "appeared" and muttered, "Either someone powerful is shielding his identity… or this isn't his real one."
She sighed and leaned back playfully. "You're ignoring me again. A beautiful girl asks you out, and you respond with paperwork."
Fang gave her a look, raising an eyebrow. "Cut it out. We have work. Be ready—we're attending tomorrow's auction."
She grinned. "So it's an indirect date. Got it."
With a light jump, she hopped off the table and left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Fang exhaled quietly. Maybe she was one of the few who could speak to him so casually. Others… they only approached with caution—some with respect, others with fear.
His gaze shifted to the window.
From where he sat, he could see the auction hall glowing in the distance.
He remained there for a while, staring silently at the view.
Then, in a low voice, he murmured to himself—
"I wonder… who is Shinren's teacher?"
Far away from the peaceful land of Galion City, there lay a land drowned in endless war—Ruqio. Once a beautiful and serene territory, it was now reduced to nothing but smoldering ruins.
On the eastern borders of Ruqio, a small group of cultivators was attempting to escape the chaos. But luck had abandoned them. Violent waves of energy struck without mercy, sending the young cultivators crashing to the ground. They were no match for the power bearing down on them.
Just as another wave was about to consume their fragile lives, a brilliant energy shield suddenly emerged, surrounding them. Within it, a female figure stepped forward. And then, the advancing wave of shadows—so terrifying only moments before—froze in place, halted by her very presence.
She stood like an unshakable mountain.
With a graceful motion, she raised her spear and stepped into the darkness. A fierce battle erupted, yet it ended swiftly—all shadows silenced. One of the young cultivators gasped in awe, "Sect Leader Zumera is… incredible."
She was the leader of Tensa Palace, one of the three major sects in Ruqio. Her expression remained cold. She glanced briefly at the group and said, "Get out of here. Evacuate as soon as you can." With those words, she vanished once again, heading toward another cluster of shadows.
Scenes like this played out across Ruqio—fire and fury against relentless darkness.
As that bloody evening passed and a grim night began to swallow the last survivors, a massive evacuation camp rose near the eastern borders. Giant beasts carried the wounded and the weak out of the warzone. For once, all three major sects had come together, united against the threat that loomed.
As the final batches prepared for departure, a burst of terrifying energy flashed in the distance. A black godlight tore through the sky, heading straight toward the evacuation camp. If it landed, nothing would survive.
Just before it struck, three lights merged—meeting the attack mid-air and countering its force. Three shadows descended in front of the camp.
Covered in a flashing red cloak stood Hasrat, leader of the Flame Deagle Sect. In brown robes was Jakra, the leader of Ink Gravel Sect. And dressed in a green cloak, calm and composed, stood Zumera.
Their gazes fixed on two figures in the sky—gray robes, hovering silently, their presence distorting space itself. On their robes, a badge glowed: HB.
One appeared old and hunched, yet his power suppressed the air around him. The other was middle-aged, standing tall with a sword in hand. He didn't just hold the sword—he embodied it.
The old one finally spoke. "So you are the leaders of this place. I will make it simple. Join us. Swear a blood contract, and we will spare your lives."
The meaning was clear—submission, or death. A blood contract meant handing over one's life, becoming nothing more than a servant.
The three sect leaders clenched their teeth and refused.
The old man's voice turned cold. "Rafic, finish them. Leave the girl alive. I won't let her die before I've tasted her."
The middle-aged man—Rafic—smiled arrogantly. "As you say, Division Head Lasic."
He drew his sword, and in an instant, monstrous sword intent engulfed the area. The three leaders widened their eyes in disbelief. Despite their strength, they could barely stand against him. They were pinnacle Emperor Level 4 experts, the best of the First Plane. And yet… they couldn't land a single hit.
"You should feel honored to die by my sword," Rafic sneered.
As his blade aimed for Jakra's chest, a mysterious force suddenly pushed him back.
Then a calm voice echoed. "Proud? Don't tell me that pathetic sword technique is what you're proud of."
Rafic gritted his teeth. He turned, eyes burning with rage.
There sat a middle-aged man, draped in simple clothes, calmly sipping tea amid the crowd of fleeing victims. His face showed no fear, only stillness—his eyes, like an endless sea.
"Seems like someone is impatient to die," Rafic hissed, releasing his High Trizenic Sword Mind and Pinnacle Emperor Level 5 energy. The air itself bent. "Who are you to judge my swordsmanship!?"
The man gently set down his cup and stood, walking slowly, unaffected by the pressure.
"Rafic, right?" he said. "If I remember correctly, not even the lowest tier of sword saints has your name. High Trizenic Sword Intent… yet not even making it to the lowest tier. What a waste of resources."
Rafic's face twisted with fury. He raised his sword and slashed, a divine light rushing forth. But the man casually slipped on his overcoat, dodging the strike with elegance. More attacks followed—but none touched him.
Rafic, now cautious, shouted, "Draw your sword and fight me!"
The man sighed. "Draw my sword?" He chuckled. "These days, everyone thinks they're at the top."
He bent down, picked up a single strand of grass, and said, "Go ahead. Use your best attack."
Rage flared in Rafic's face. "Stop mocking me, bastard!"
He moved to unleash another strike—but froze. A chilling presence appeared behind him.
"Too slow," came the whisper.
Rafic's sword shattered. His arm was severed cleanly. Staggering, he thought, Did he just cut me… with grass?
But the shock went deeper. For a split second, he had felt something—a presence so supreme, so overwhelming, that his High Trizenic Sword Mind shattered like glass. He had felt like an ant before a mountain.
As darkness consumed his vision, his final thought was: Maybe… I should be proud to die by his move.
Back in the sky, Lasic was drenched in sweat.
"Who… who are you?"
Then it hit him.
"Wait a second… You're the one. The mysterious swordsman who was sent here."
The man ignored him and instead turned his gaze elsewhere.
"How long do you intend to hide, Lucar… or should I say—Sixth Titled Monarch of Hell Belver"
A fold in space twisted open.
A new figure emerged.
"I can't believe they sent someone like you here. Are you from a Heaven-class sect?" Lucar asked.
The man smiled. "I don't think any Heaven-class sect can handle me."
Then his tone shifted.
"Enough talk."
The grass in his hand flickered—and vanished. It reappeared near Lucar, tearing through space.
Lucar summoned a dark-gray energy shield, powerful enough to withstand an army.
Boom.
The smoke cleared.
Lucar's shoulder bled, his shield shattered.
More terrifying was what followed—Lasic's head burst from the same strike.
The man calmly remarked, "Interesting. I was aiming for your head."
Lucar gritted his teeth. "Celebrate while you can. Remember—the tallest tree gets cut first."
With those words, he vanished.
The mysterious man smiled faintly. "Hope you find a way to cut this tree."
He disappeared.
Back at the camp, silence fell. No one could quite process what had just happened.
Far away, near a mountain, the man reappeared. His eyes fixed on a space where the dimension itself began to break.
"Interesting," he murmured, observing the dimensional seal.
Then, turning his gaze toward a distant direction, he said, "He's reached Galion City. If he stays on the right path, he'll arrive just in time."
He looked up at the sky.
"I wonder… how this new student of mine will turn out?"