As Kazel sat atop the corpse, the arena turned into a battlefield once more. The remaining six prodigies faced their own opponents, though none could match the sheer brutality Kazel had displayed.
Mei Rong, elegant yet deadly, danced through the battlefield with her Tiger Butterfly flitting behind her, amplifying her speed and agility. Each strike of her palms carved through the air with precision, her opponents struggling to keep up. One disciple lunged at her, but with a graceful spin, she sidestepped and brought her palm across his chest. A clean cut—he crumpled to the ground, defeated.
Kazel smirked as he watched her. "Such grace, such precision… yet, you're still struggling. Should I lend you a hand, Mei Rong?" he called out, his voice dripping with condescension.
Mei Rong narrowed her eyes, "We will meet later, no need to rush."
On another end, Xie Lian fought with controlled ferocity. The Assault Owl perched above, its piercing gaze marking his prey. Xie Lian struck with efficiency, his blade sharp and his movements crisp. He didn't waste energy on unnecessary attacks—each move was calculated, deadly. A disciple from another sect aimed a strike at him, but Xie Lian parried smoothly, twisting his blade and redirecting the force to send his attacker sprawling.
Kazel scoffed. "Hmph. Precise, but boring. You could at least make it look entertaining, Xie Lian."
Xie Lian didn't react to his words, his focus entirely on the fight.
Yuanggai, meanwhile, was a force of destruction, his Blazing Roc manifestation fanning flames around him. Each attack sent shockwaves through his opponents. With a single sweeping strike, he knocked three disciples aside, their bodies skidding across the dirt. He was furious—his mind still trying to grasp what had just happened with Kazel.
"Are you distracted, Yuanggai?" Kazel called, tapping his sword against his shoulder. "How disappointing. I thought you'd be the strongest here."
Yuanggai gritted his teeth but refused to respond.
Batu fought with the steadiness of a fortress. The Green Tortoise around him formed a protective barrier, allowing him to counter with devastating strength. Every attack that came his way was met with an unshakable defense before he delivered punishing blows in return.
Kazel tilted his head. "A slow victory, but a victory nonetheless. At least you're not making a fool of yourself, Batu."
Jin Shui moved like a phantom, weaving through his enemies with a venomous precision that matched his Serpent River Sect's reputation. His strikes aimed at pressure points, leaving his opponents crumpled and paralyzed.
Kazel chuckled. "Ah, so the snake is finally shedding its skin. Took you long enough, Jin Shui."
And then there was Salma. Her Snow Fox manifestation created a chilling mist, obscuring her movements as she darted through the battlefield. She was fast, her ice-infused attacks freezing weapons mid-swing, leaving her opponents defenseless.
But Kazel leaned forward, his smirk widening. "Oh dear, Salma. Your enemies are weak, yet you're still taking your time? If you need help, just say the word."
Salma clenched her fists, her attacks growing sharper, but Kazel continued.
"Or maybe… you just don't have it in you to be ruthless?" His tone was teasing, but there was a deeper sting to his words. "Maybe that's why you needed to break off our engagement—because you knew you'd always be a step behind me."
Salma snapped. Her eyes burned with fury as she unleashed a storm of ice, knocking down the last of her opponents in a frigid blast.
The announcer, breathless from witnessing the carnage, finally raised his voice. "We have our seven winners! These prodigies will advance to the final rounds!"
The crowd roared with excitement, chanting the names of their favorites. But among the cheers, there was one name that began to rise above the others—Kazel.
He stood, flicking his sword to shake off the blood, before looking toward the remaining prodigies with a smirk. "Well then… shall we move on to the real battle?"
The announcer raised his hand and said, "As Kazel was the first to advance to the final round, he earned the right to advance straight to the semi-finals!"
The moment the announcer declared Kazel's automatic advancement to the semi-finals, murmurs rippled through the audience before exploding into deafening cheers. His name was called over and over again, his presence overshadowing even the other prodigies who had fought their way through the first round.
Kazel tilted his head slightly, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? I get to sit back and watch? How generous of you." He exhaled through his nose in amusement before clicking his tongue.
Meanwhile, the remaining six prodigies stepped forward as the announcer continued. "As for the rest of you, your path isn't as simple! You will each draw a number from one to six. The matchups will be determined as follows:
Number 1 versus Number 2,
Number 3 versus Number 4,
and Number 5 versus Number 6.
The winners will advance to the semi-finals!"
Kazel exhaled sharply and clicked his tongue. "Looks like I have to sheath my sword this time. Fine by me," he said, resting a hand on his hilt before letting go with feigned disappointment.
He cast his gaze over the stands, watching as the crowd continued to chant his name. The energy of their voices was intoxicating. It wasn't just admiration—it was recognition. Fear. Awe.
The other prodigies weren't blind to it. Yuanggai clenched his fists, his knuckles white. Salma bit the inside of her cheek, her jaw tight. Mei Rong glanced at Kazel from the corner of her eye, still processing the sheer ruthlessness he had displayed. Batu, as usual, remained steady, but there was no doubt he had taken notice of the overwhelming difference in crowd support.
Xie Lian merely sighed, rolling his shoulders as he muttered, "Tch. Typical."
"Alright, prodigies, step forward and draw your numbers!" the announcer declared, snapping everyone's attention back to the tournament.
One by one, the six prodigies approached the ceremonial box and retrieved their fate. Kazel leaned against the edge of the arena, watching with a lazy expression.
The coliseum rumbled with excitement as the announcer's voice rang out.
"Number 1: Salma vs. Number 2: Jin Shui!
The winner will face…
the winner of Number 3: Batu vs. Number 4: Xie Lian!
And finally, Number 5: Yuanggai vs. Number 6: Mei Rong!
And the victor of that match… will face… KAAAAAAZELLLLL!"
The crowd erupted, the energy surging like a tidal wave. Cheers, gasps, and murmurs filled the air.
Up in the stands, Weh exhaled sharply, arms crossed as he muttered, "As if written by fate itself… If they both win, the final round will be a sweet story." His voice was laced with bitterness, but also a hint of anticipation.
But Kazel? He wasn't even looking at the arena anymore. His blue eyes drifted toward the stands—specifically, to the rows where the elders of the Rising Stone Sect sat. Among them, one particular elder caught his attention. The same man who had underestimated him in the market. The one whose body he had neatly folded into the shape of a "C."
Kazel smirked.
Then, without hesitation, he strode toward that row. His one-shoulder cape fluttered with each step, the embodiment of authority and arrogance. He stopped directly in front of them, arms crossed, chin raised, his piercing gaze locking onto the elders like a predator toying with its prey.
It was a declaration. Not with words, but with sheer presence alone.
The crowd caught on immediately.
"What's he doing?"
"Wait… isn't that the Rising Stone Sect's elder?"
"Wasn't there a rumor about something happening in the market? Didn't Kazel—"
Like wildfire, the story spread. Whispers turned to murmurs, murmurs turned to laughter, and soon, the spectators were openly jeering at the Rising Stone Sect.
The elder's face darkened, his fists trembling under the scrutiny. He could hear the mocking whispers around him, feel the weight of eyes filled with ridicule.
Kazel tilted his head, his smirk widening. (You started this. I'm just making sure everyone knows how it ends.)
The coliseum was now more than a battleground—it was a stage. And Kazel had just set the spotlight exactly where he wanted it.
Noel deliberately crossed his legs, his smirk widening as he observed his son basking in the attention—no, in the sheer seething of the Rising Stone Sect. The elders of the sect sat stiff, their expressions ranging from barely contained rage to forced indifference. But Noel? He was enjoying the show.
Beside him, Weh clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into the armrest of his chair. His aura flared, laced with killing intent. "Noel, are you planning to offend my sect even further?"
Noel let out a low chuckle, leaning forward. "Offend?" He repeated the word as if it was beneath him. Then his voice dropped, the warmth evaporating entirely.
"No, no, no. You deserve much more than that."
The change in tone sent a chill through the air. The other sect leaders, who had been watching with mild interest, suddenly tensed.
Noel's smirk faded, his eyes glinting with the cold fury of a man who had already passed judgment.
"You attempted to kill my son, using my own and my wife's hands…" His voice was smooth, but the sheer weight behind it made even the surrounding elders swallow hard.
"For that, I will erase your sect. Your legacy. Everything."
Weh didn't flinch. He faced Noel's killing intent head-on, his own aura flaring in response. "You think you and your son alone can accomplish that?"
A dangerous silence settled between them. The tension was suffocating, the sheer pressure enough to make weaker cultivators feel lightheaded.
Luo Shen, the patriarch of the Jade Lotus Sect, exhaled through his nose. "That wouldn't do, Patriarch Noel." His tone was firm, diplomatic, but there was a warning in his words.
Noel barely spared him a glance. "It will do, Luo Shen." Then his eyes locked onto Weh once more, his smirk making a slow return.
"And Weh… I don't think you understand."
He leaned back in his seat, exuding pure confidence, his next words carrying enough weight to shake the very foundation of the sect leaders' assumptions.
"Even I don't know the full extent of my son's prowess."
The implication was clear.
And the battlefield below? It was about to prove it.