Tian Yang stood at the precipice of a new beginning, gazing out over the crimson-tinted horizon from the mountain peak behind the sect. His robes fluttered in the wind, soaked with the blood of the battle earlier, but he paid it no mind. Below, the sect trembled—not from any calamity, but from the echo of a name that now stirred the heavens and hells alike.
Tian Yang.
The disciples whispered it in awe. The elders muttered it in fear. And the heavens themselves, perhaps, began to remember.
Three days remained until the Grand Disciple Challenge. Three days to forge strength anew. And he would need every moment.
He stepped into the secluded Flameheart Cavern, a forbidden place buried in the heart of the mountain. Once, he'd heard the legends from passing inner sect disciples: a place saturated with primordial fire essence, too violent for ordinary cultivators to withstand. Death had greeted all who entered without the Sect Master's permission.
But Tian Yang was no ordinary cultivator now.
The Tyrant's Forbidden Codex burned within his soul—a divine inheritance sealed in his bloodline, unlocked only when he lay half-dead in the cave they'd tossed him into. The Codex had whispered secrets to him—truths of cultivation long erased by the mortal world. Now, it demanded to be fed.
And he would feed it fire.
---
As he stepped through the scorched mouth of the cave, a wall of heat surged over him. Even the air warped and twisted. Flames licked the stone, dancing like spirits hungry for life.
Each step further in seared his skin. His breathing became labored, sweat pouring down his brow. The Codex throbbed with excitement in his veins, guiding his steps deeper into the inferno.
"Burn," he whispered.
Flames roared around him in response, as if the cavern itself had heard his voice.
Tian Yang sat in the lotus position upon a jagged obsidian platform. He activated the first seal of the Codex, channeling his nascent qi through his meridians in a brutal, twisting current. It was not a gentle technique. It was not merciful. It tore at him, reshaping his body with every circuit.
He bit his lip until it bled.
"Again."
The fire surged. His robes disintegrated. His flesh blistered. His bones groaned under the pressure.
But Tian Yang did not stop.
---
Hours passed.
Then a day.
Then two.
Outside, the sect roiled with speculation. How could a crippled outer sect failure defeat Liu Qingfeng? How could he humiliate an elder? Rumors turned to legends in mere hours.
The sect master, Han Wu, stood atop his private pagoda, arms folded.
"What do you see in him, old friend?" murmured Grand Elder Lu, stepping beside him.
"A storm," Han Wu replied quietly. "One that may destroy us... or elevate us."
Lu grunted. "You're gambling."
Han Wu smiled faintly. "Always."
---
On the third night, the Flameheart Cavern exploded with light.
A column of golden-red fire shot into the sky, visible for miles. Every disciple looked up, shielding their eyes. Even the elders stirred from their meditations.
Out of the cavern walked Tian Yang.
He was bare-chested, his skin glowing faintly like tempered steel, etched with crimson runes of the Codex. His hair fluttered like living fire. His eyes held a terrifying serenity—as if he had conversed with the flames and emerged their master.
A new cultivation realm.
He had broken through. Twice.
Mid-Spirit Condensation.
A level few outer sect disciples ever reached, and certainly not in three days. But Tian Yang had not only reached it—he had dominated it.
He arrived at the Grand Arena as the sun rose on the third day, every step echoing like thunder. The arena was packed. Thousands of disciples and elders filled the stadium, eyes riveted on him.
Qin Yue, the inner sect's Ice Blossom Fairy, stood beside the sect master, her eyes narrowing slightly. "That pressure... he's no longer the boy we knew."
Han Wu said nothing, but his eyes sparkled.
Elder Mu stood pale-faced in the judge's circle, flanked by Liu Qingfeng—bruised, but recovered—and several other elite disciples.
"Do you truly wish to proceed?" Mu hissed as Tian Yang stepped before him.
Tian Yang smiled. "Do you truly wish to stop me?"
Mu paled and stepped back.
The gong sounded.
The challenge had begun.
---
The first opponent was Wei Long, an inner sect genius with a cultivation of Upper-Spirit Condensation and mastery over the Serpent Fist Style.
He struck with blinding speed, fists laced with green qi.
Tian Yang didn't dodge.
His hand shot up like lightning, catching the punch mid-air. The arena fell silent as Wei Long's face twisted in horror. Crack! Tian Yang's grip crushed the bones in his opponent's hand before he kneed him in the gut, sending him flying.
One move.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The second challenger didn't last longer. Nor the third. Each one faster, more skilled—and yet, none could endure more than a single exchange.
By the fifth challenger, the silence had turned into stunned reverence.
Then came Liu Qingfeng.
He walked into the arena without a word, his golden robes immaculate. A powerful aura rolled off him—he had trained non-stop since his defeat, and now his cultivation reached the Peak-Spirit Condensation Realm.
The crowd leaned forward. This was the real fight.
Qingfeng summoned his Heavenlight Spear, its blade shimmering with spiritual runes. "This time, I won't hold back."
Tian Yang raised his hand. A crimson flame spiraled around his fist, condensing into a flame-forged gauntlet—the first manifestation of the Tyrant's Flame.
"Then come."
Their collision shook the arena.
Flames and light exploded as they exchanged dozens of blows in seconds. Qingfeng's spear whistled through the air, each strike capable of splitting stone. Tian Yang met him strike for strike, his movements brutal and precise.
Then, Tian Yang spun low, his leg sweeping under Qingfeng's guard. The spear faltered—
Boom!
A fist of crimson flame slammed into Qingfeng's chest, shattering his breastplate. The chief disciple crashed into the ground, skidding across the arena.
He didn't rise.
Silence. Then—
Cheers erupted.
Tian Yang stood at the center of the arena, flames still dancing around him, his gaze scanning the crowd.
Han Wu rose from his seat. "Tian Yang! You have proven your strength before the heavens and the sect. From this day forth, you are reinstated as an inner sect disciple—"
Tian Yang raised a hand.
"No."
Han Wu blinked. "What?"
Tian Yang's voice was calm but thunderous.
"I do not wish to return as an inner sect disciple. I want more. I want the peak."
Gasps spread.
"I challenge the current core disciples. One by one. And when I've defeated them all... I will challenge the throne itself."
Eyes widened. The throne—
Han Wu's gaze sharpened. "You mean the succession seat?"
Tian Yang nodded.
"I will become the next Sect Master."
And with those words, the heavens trembled once more.