The arena was still buzzing. Even after Cecilia Glaciblade had been carried away, even after the third trial had officially ended, the noise refused to die down.
Excited voices, shocked whispers, and disbelieving shouts overlapped into a chaotic storm.
An E-class cultivator. Defeating a D-class sword mage.
And doing it head-on.
But while most of the students and instructors were still trapped in the aftershocks of that battle…
Not everyone was looking at the arena with admiration. High above the stands, beyond the regular seating area, lay the VIP gallery.
This place was reserved for important guests, such as legacy family heads, influential sponsors, and figures who could shake the kingdom with a single word.
In one of the best seats, a man sat quietly.
He looked to be in his forties. His head was half-bald, the remaining hair combed neatly back. His face was thin and stern, and his eyes were sharp like a hawk's — cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of warmth.
