As the Peak Lords left, Su Xiaobai’s gaze drifted, landing on one figure—
Huo Rong.
The Fire Peak Lord.
His open hostility toward Su Xiaobai had been obvious for a while now, but the more Su Xiaobai thought about it, the less sense it made.
Zhu Qing had told him not to overthink it, saying Fire Peak was simply avenging their crippled disciples.
But bullshit.
Those were just Outer Core disciples. Nobodies.
And that was months ago.
How could a Peak Lord—a man who had lived for over a hundred years—bear such a personal grudge over something so minor?
No—this hatred was deeper.
And as Huo Rong returned to Fire Peak, his actions only confirmed it.
________
Inside the silent halls of Fire Peak, a small shadow flickered into existence.
A voice, low and cautious, whispered through the darkness.
"Brother…"
Huo Rong’s face lit up with rare relief, his sharp eyes gleaming with expectation.
"Is it done?"
The shadow shifted.
A man stood there, his fiery eyes cold, his sharp brows unwavering. Crimson hair cascaded down his back, and a golden robe, embroidered with the mark of a blazing sun, draped over his form.
A sun-shaped brand burned against his forehead.
Not a scar.
A mark of vengeance.
If Su Xiaobai or Bai Yujian were here, they would have recognized him instantly.
Because this man should not exist.
This man was from the Blazing Sun Sect.
And that sect—
Was supposed to be dead.
Huo Rong’s face darkened.
"I failed, but we have another pawn to use." His voice was low, resolute. "If things go south, I’ll execute him myself—then escape."
The shadowed man nodded, his voice dripping with suppressed rage.
"Good."
Then, he vanished.
Far away, outside Xiantian Sect, in the dark forests where no disciples dared to tread, a figure stood alone.
His golden robe fluttered, his crimson hair burned under the dim light.
And then—
He laughed.
A hollow, broken sound.
A sound filled with insanity.
"Hehehe… hahahahaha… HAAAAAA!"
His voice ripped through, carrying the madness of a man with nothing left to lose.
His name—
Ji Yan.
Blazing Sun Sect Ancestor.
A man who should have died.
A man who should not exist.
And yet—he lived.
Master Qiangxuan had promised the world that the Blazing Sun Sect was annihilated.
And he had delivered.
Or so they thought.
Because in truth—he left one survivor.
Ji Yan.
But he had not been spared out of mercy.
He had been enslaved.
Branded, shackled, forced to bow before Master Qiangxuan, who had whispered coldly—
"Live. Serve me. And destroy them."
Ji Yan’s entire sect—gone in a single day.
His disciples—massacred.
His family—slaughtered.
His wife—burned alive.
His sons, daughters—ripped apart.
Everything he had built for a thousand years was erased in mere hours.
And now—
Only hatred remained.
Ji Yan’s hands trembled, his fingernails digging into his palms until blood dripped down his fingers.
"Su Xiaobai… Zhu Qing… Bai Yujian…"
His voice was a whisper of hellfire.
He didn’t care that Bai Yujian was the one who forced Master Qiangxuan’s hand.
He didn’t care that Zhu Qing had planned his sect’s downfall.
He didn’t care that Master Qiangxuan was the true mastermind behind his ruin.
Because Zhu Qing and Bai Yujian were too strong.
And Master Qiangxuan was untouchable.
But Su Xiaobai?
That bastard was weak.
He was the easiest to crush.
Ji Yan clenched his fists.
Right now, his grudge against stronger enemies had to be swallowed.
He could only bully the weak.
If not for Master Qiangxuan’s orders, he would have stormed into Su Xiaobai’s chambers and ripped him apart in his sleep. But Master Qiangxuan had his own plans, and Ji Yan didn’t dare disobey.
Even thinking about that old alchemist’s allies sent a shiver down his spine.
And Su Xiaobai?
That brat had no idea what was happening behind the scenes.
He had only joined the sect a few months ago. How could he possibly know that before the year was over—
Xiantian Sect would be erased from the Yue Kingdom?
_____
Back in Arena....
Clash!
"Sword Intent—Slicing Rivers!"
WHOOSH!
Liu Zhenhai’s sword howled, an arc of razor-sharp Qi surging forward, splitting the entire arena in two.
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Su Xiaobai’s form flickered away at the last second—
BOOM!
The ground ruptured, a massive gash carved through the stone stage, its edges smooth as a mirror.
Su Xiaobai landed lightly on the far end, wiping the cold sweat off his forehead.
"Tsk. A Level Four Sword Intent really is monstrous… When the hell can I learn that?"
Liu Zhenhai’s burning gaze locked onto him.
"Su Xiaobai! If I defeat you—acknowledge my innocence in front of everyone!"
Hatred burned in Liu Zhenhai’s bloodshot eyes, dark circles hollowing his face. This wasn’t the same Liu Zhenhai that once stood proudly as a noble swordsman.
This was a man pushed into a corner.
Su Xiaobai sighed theatrically, shaking his head like a disappointed elder.
"Brother Liu, what innocence? Just because the Peak Lord kicked you out, doesn’t mean you get to twist black and white."
His hands spread wide in a gesture of ignorance.
Liu Zhenhai’s killing intent surged.
"Twisting black and white? Good. Then I’ll carve the truth into you."
CLANG!
Their swords met, sparks flying as the air trembled from the collision of their Sword Qi.
Liu Zhenhai smirked—but before he could press forward, Su Xiaobai had already vanished.
He wasn’t retreating.
He was grinning.
He wasn’t stupid.
If this was a contest of pure swordsmanship, Su Xiaobai would be crushed.
Liu Zhenhai had been wielding a sword since he was eight, reaching Late Soul Fusion Realm before even hitting eighty. His talent rivaled royalty, his lineage deeply tied to ancient martial traditions.
But Su Xiaobai never fought fair.
With a flick of his wrist, his sword disappeared.
His body twisted—scales bursting forth as his hands and feet transformed.
Dark violet dragon scales gleamed under the evening sunlight, claws extending like razor-sharp obsidian spikes.
Liu Zhenhai’s brows furrowed.
"...??"
Swish!
Su Xiaobai moved.
CLANG!
Liu Zhenhai barely parried with his sword, his arms shaking from the sheer force.
His confusion deepened.
"What are you doing?! Fight like a real swordsman!"
But Su Xiaobai just grinned wider.
"A real swordsman? Brother Liu, you’re mistaken."
"I’m a warrior not swordsman."
A low hum—
Then, in an instant, Su Xiaobai’s claws tore through in a flurry of unpredictable strikes.
SHING! SHING! SHING!
Liu Zhenhai deflected most of them—but not all.
A small cut appeared on his cheek.
A thin scratch across his shoulder.
A tiny gash on his arm.
Nothing serious.
At first.
But Su Xiaobai didn’t stop.
He wasn’t aiming to kill.
He was shaving away at Liu Zhenhai’s pride.
Liu Zhenhai’s expression twisted.
He wasn’t injured.
But his clothes were torn.
His face had small cuts.
His aura surged violently, but Su Xiaobai was untouched.
And the worst part?
The bastard was smiling.
The disciples watching stared in disbelief.
"What the hell is Brother Su doing?!"
"He’s not even fighting properly—he’s just… annoying him?!"
Liu Zhenhai’s blood boiled.
"Enough!"
BOOM!
A powerful wave of red bloodthirsty Sword Qi erupted from his blade, shattering the ground beneath them.
Su Xiaobai flickered backward, still grinning like a fox.
"Angry already? Brother Liu, you really are impatient."
His claws flexed.
"Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you feel much, much worse before this fight ends."
Liu Zhenhai’s hands tightened around his sword.
For the first time—
He had the feeling that this wasn’t a battle.
This was a game.
And Su Xiaobai was playing him like a fool.
It was .... humiliating.
Liu Zhenhai’s robes were in tatters, his body covered in thin, stinging cuts. None of them serious—yet together, they painted the image of a man being slowly picked apart.
But as his rage burned hotter—
A chill crept into the hearts of those watching.
______
From the VIP seats, a Deity Transformation Elder narrowed his eyes.
"Something’s wrong."
"What do you mean?" another Peak Lord asked.
The elder stroked his beard, voice grave.
"The wounds."
Everyone turned their gaze back to the battlefield.
At first, it had seemed random—Su Xiaobai’s playful harassment, leaving shallow cuts here and there.
But now—
A pattern was forming.
Each drop of blood landed too precisely.
Too deliberately.
One Elder suddenly shot to his feet, his voice filled with disbelief.
"He’s not just fighting—"
"He’s drawing a formation!"
____
The Truth Behind the Bloodshed....
Su Xiaobai’s grin widened.
By now, the arena floor beneath them was stained red.
Every drip of blood that fell from Liu Zhenhai’s wounds was placed with precision.
It wasn’t random.
It was by design.
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The moment Liu Zhenhai moved one step back—
BOOM!
A violent pulse of spiritual energy erupted beneath his feet.
The ground shuddered.
A web of crimson runes ignited across the arena, forming an intricate pattern woven from Liu Zhenhai’s own blood.
The elders gasped in horror.
A formation?!
A Blood-Linked Array?!
Su Xiaobai tilted his head, stretching lazily as if this wasn’t even worth his full effort.
"Brother Liu, you look confused."
His fingers casually traced, and the formation’s runes flared brighter.
"Don’t tell me you thought I was just playing around this whole time?"
SHINGGG!
The array activated.
A deep, oppressive force slammed onto Liu Zhenhai’s body.
His knees buckled, his spiritual energy flickered.
"W-What…?!"
His Qi was being drained.
No—redirected.
He could feel it.
This wasn’t a simple formation—
It was a blood-based suppression array.
One that used the opponent’s own essence to restrain them.
A Peak Lord stood up in shock.
"That’s the Crimson Tyrant Array!"
"Impossible! That formation takes days to set up! And it requires blood as the catalyst!"
Another Elder muttered in awe.
"Which means… he’s been setting it up from the first scratch."
A shiver ran through the entire sect.
"Terrifying."
______
Liu Zhenhai tried to step forward—but his movements were sluggish.
His qi refused to listen.
Every ounce of sword energy he released—
Was absorbed by the array.
The realization hit him like a lightning bolt.
"You… you planned this from the start?!"
Su Xiaobai shrugged, stepping forward leisurely, like a predator that had already won.
"Of course."
His dragon claws flexed.
"I knew from the beginning I couldn’t match you in pure swordsmanship."
"So I simply made sure that swordsman couldn’t use his sword."
Liu Zhenhai’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
His strongest weapon—neutralized.
His own blood—used against him.
His greatest advantage—rendered meaningless.
And the worst part?
He had never even noticed.
A cold silence fell over the crowd.
Even the elders—battle-hardened veterans—felt an unsettling chill in their bones.
A disciple gulped.
"He made a formation… out of his opponent’s own blood?"
"Without him even realizing?"
Another whispered, his voice shaking.
"Is he a swordsman… or a demon?"
Huo Rong clenched his fists.
_____
But Liu Zhenhai wasn’t done.
His golden hair whipped in the wind, his aura burning with desperation.
"I refuse to lose like this!"
With a roar, he forcefully pushed his Qi to the limit, fighting against the formation’s hold.
Su Xiaobai clicked his tongue.
"Oh? Still struggling?"
He shook his head, almost disappointed.
"Then let’s see how long you last."
He raised his clawed hand—and with a flick of his fingers, the formation surged with power.
The Crimson Tyrant Array wasn’t just a suppression formation—
It had another function.
"Kneel."
The runes flashed violently.
The weight on Liu Zhenhai’s body doubled.
His bones creaked.
His legs shook.
And in front of the entire sect—
Liu Zhenhai collapsed to his knees.