The arena still buzzed with disbelief. Disciples spoke in hushed voices, their eyes flicking between Zhao Feng's unconscious form and the calm figure of Long Chen standing tall.
"Zhao Feng… was defeated.""Not just defeated—suppressed like a child!""What is Long Chen? A monster? A reincarnated dragon?"
The whispers spread like wildfire. For every disciple in awe, there was another in fear. The balance of the Outer Sect had shifted in an instant.
High above, elders gathered in the grand pavilion. Their robes fluttered in the qi-charged wind, their expressions mixed between fascination and dread.
One elder slammed his palm on the jade railing. "Sect Master, this child is too dangerous! His bloodline is unnatural—he can devour cultivation itself. If left unchecked, he may one day devour even us."
Another elder snorted. "Fool. Can't you see? That is precisely why he must be nurtured. A dragon should not be chained, it should be guided. With such a disciple, the Azure Cloud Sect could rise above every sect in the Lower Realm!"
A third elder frowned deeply. "Or fall into ruin if we lose control of him."
Sect Master Ye Tianxing remained silent, his ancient eyes locked on Long Chen's figure. He stroked his beard slowly, his voice calm yet heavy.
"The heavens have delivered him to us. To kill him would be to spit upon fate. To nurture him… will bring storms. But tell me—since when has the Azure Cloud Sect feared storms?"
The hall fell silent. Even the most cautious elders could not argue against his words.
Elsewhere, within the viewing stands, Li Qingyue sat with her hands folded lightly on her lap. Her silver hair shimmered, catching the sunlight, yet her violet eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Long Chen.
She had seen countless geniuses rise and fall. Arrogant prodigies, heaven's favorites, even reincarnated souls. But this one… he was different.
That roar—dragon might—had shaken even her Pure Yin Constitution, something no outer disciple should have been capable of.
Her lips curved faintly, though her tone was cold. "Interesting. If he survives the finals, I may test him myself."
An Inner Sect elder beside her chuckled. "Junior Sister Qingyue, surely you wouldn't waste time with a mere outer disciple?"
She didn't answer. But her silence was enough.
Far away, beyond the mortal plane, crimson eyes gleamed in the void. Mo Lingxi leaned lazily against a throne of black mist, her crimson lips curling in an enchanting smile.
"My little dragon grows bolder." She giggled softly, her voice dripping with both amusement and hunger. "Every step you take only tightens the thread between us. Soon, very soon, you'll learn that even dragons can be devoured."
The void trembled faintly, as if afraid of her words.
Long Chen stepped down from the stage, his expression unchanged. He ignored the countless eyes on him, whether burning with awe or hatred. His bloodline still hummed, golden qi swirling faintly around him, demanding more.
"Dragon Might," he thought, clenching his fist. "This is only the beginning. When I fully awaken… not even heavens will suppress me."
The announcer's voice echoed through the arena.
"Remaining disciples, prepare yourselves! The quarter-finals will begin shortly!"
The crowd erupted in cheers again. For many, this was the true heart of the tournament—the point where only the strongest remained.
Seven figures besides Long Chen stood ready. Each bore their own pride, their own path.
Liu Yan had returned despite her earlier loss, her fiery spear trembling with determination to redeem herself.
Wei Kun glared coldly, his twin sabers already buzzing with qi.
Two nameless dark horses who had fought their way through dozens.
And three inner-circle outer sect elites, each backed by minor elders.
Every one of them looked at Long Chen with different eyes—fear, envy, hatred, curiosity.
But all knew one truth. To reach the top, they would have to defeat the dragon.
In the lower stands, Zhang Mu cheered so loudly that other disciples glared at him. "Brother Long Chen is unstoppable! Did you see Zhao Feng's face when he fell? Hahaha!"
His sister, Zhang Wei, remained quieter, her soft eyes lingering on Long Chen's calm back. Something stirred within her, though she did not voice it.
"He's walking a path drenched in danger…" she whispered. "But still, he shines brighter than anyone else."
The formation arrays flared again, splitting the arena into four platforms.
"Quarter-Final Match One: Long Chen vs. Wei Kun!"
The twin-saber youth sneered, stepping onto the platform. His blades gleamed with cold qi, murderous intent leaking from his aura.
"You humiliated me before," Wei Kun growled. "This time, I'll spill your blood before the entire sect!"
Long Chen stepped calmly onto the stage, his robe fluttering. His golden eyes glimmered faintly, filled with indifference.
"Then come," he said softly, his voice like distant thunder. "And see if your blades can cut a dragon."