The arena remained silent long after the gong signaled the match's end.
Even as healers rushed to carry Liu Fei away — his foot mangled, his chest bleeding beneath the cracked remnants of his defensive treasure — no one spoke.
All eyes were on the boy with the blood-red saber.
Xiao Chen lowered the blade, the malice swirling around it fading as it dissolved into mist. He didn't celebrate. He didn't even look at Liu Fei.
He simply turned and walked off the stage, his movements unnervingly calm for someone whose bones had been broken moments ago.
---
"Who… was that?" someone in the crowd whispered.
"Did you see? He was realigning his bones mid-fight. Like it didn't even matter."
"That can't be the same Xiao Chen. He's—he's a monster now."
The murmurs spread like wildfire.
From the Liu Clan's private viewing box, their elders sat in grim silence. What was supposed to be a humiliation for Xiao Chen had turned into a stain on their clan's name.
And in the Xiao Clan's section, the atmosphere was far more complicated.
Some elders looked unsettled. Others intrigued.
"His power… it's unnatural," one of them muttered.
"Unnatural or not," another replied, "he's a weapon. One we may need."
But not all shared that sentiment.
In the corner, Xiao Yu sat stiffly, her gaze locked on the arena floor where Xiao Chen had stood. Her nails dug into her palms again, reopening the cuts she'd made before.
She hated him.
Hated that he had changed.
Hated that he had chosen this path.
---
Later that evening, in the Xiao Clan's private quarters, Xiao Yan sat across from his father, Xiao Zhan.
Xiao Zhan's face was calm, but his tone carried weight. "You should know what happened today."
Xiao Yan leaned forward, curious.
"It's about him. Xiao Chen."
The name made Xiao Yan pause. "That… bastard is still alive?"
"Alive," Xiao Zhan said, his voice deep. "And more dangerous than ever. He fought Liu Fei today — and won. Crippled him, nearly killed him, and made him surrender."
Xiao Yan's fists clenched on instinct.
"That trash? Defeating Liu Fei?" He scoffed, but his words felt hollow.
"He's not trash anymore," Xiao Zhan said coldly. "Whatever he's become, it isn't the Xiao Chen you knew."
Xiao Yan gritted his teeth, the image of the beaten-down boy he remembered clashing with what his father described. "Then I'll remind him of his place."
Xiao Zhan looked at his son for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. Because if he keeps winning, you may face him yourself."
---
Far away, in the quiet of his temporary quarters, Xiao Chen sat cross-legged in the dark, the faint hiss of malicious Qi filling the room.
His body trembled as Raksha Rebirth continued its grisly work, knitting flesh and bone back into order.
The tournament wasn't over.