Jalen didn't leave the tournament grounds.
He remained perched in the shadows of the viewing cliffs, arms folded, eyes sharp, his presence cloaked but not hidden. He watched every match that followed Lloyd's victory in the third round, his gaze never straying from the young man he once mentored. The crowd shifted, the wind howled, and the terrain changed—but Jalen stayed.
Lloyd advanced through the rounds like a blade through silk.
His opponents came with confidence, some with arrogance, others with fear. But none lasted long. One fell to a single strike of Luminal Edge, his barrier shattered before he could blink. Another tried to trap Lloyd in a gravity field, only to be overwhelmed by Raystorm Volley and knocked unconscious in two moves. A third, a rare dual-element cultivator, managed to hold out for three exchanges before Luminous Rift Slashdestabilized his footing and sent him crashing into the arena wall.
Each victory was clean. Precise. Devastating.
By the time Lloyd reached the final round, whispers filled the air. Disciples from various sects murmured about his unknown techniques, his speed, his composure. Elders leaned forward, some intrigued, others bitter. The Azure Drift Alliance elders wore proud smiles, but even they knew the tension was rising.
Lloyd wasn't just winning—he was humiliating the competition.
And that made him dangerous.
His final opponent was a young genius from the Crimson Vale Sect, a prominent force on the Great Wave Continent. The boy, Renzo Vale, was known for his mastery of his dual elements psychic force and spatial manipulation. He had defeated his own opponents with ruthless efficiency, and his sect had already begun touting him as the future of the continent generation within a hundred years.
The arena was reset—floating stones reconfigured, terrain fractured anew. The sky above shimmered with unstable qi, and the crowd leaned in, sensing the storm to come.
Jalen's eyes narrowed.
He had seen Renzo fight. He was strong—very strong. But not stronger than Lloyd.
The match began with a clash of light and pressure.
Renzo launched a barrage of psychic blades, spinning through the air like razors. Lloyd countered with Luminous veil step his form flickering through illusions, dodging each blade with fluid grace. Then he struck—Piercing Ray Spiral surged forward, forcing Renzo to erect a spatial shield.
The shield cracked.
Renzo retaliated with a gravity pulse, trying to pin Lloyd to the ground. But Lloyd's light qi surged upward, lifting him into the air like a comet. He spun, blade glowing, and descended with Luminous Rift Slash, tearing through the gravity field and forcing Renzo back.
Ten exchanges passed.
Each one more violent than the last.
Renzo's psychic force twisted the terrain, but Lloyd adapted, bending light around his body, striking with precision. The crowd roared with each clash, the viewing platforms trembling under the force of their battle.
Then it happened.
Just as Lloyd prepared to unleash Flash Bloom Barrage, his body froze.
His blade faltered. His aura flickered. His eyes widened—not in fear, but in confusion.
A pulse of foreign energy surged through his spirit core. It wasn't Renzo's. It wasn't his own. It was something else—something hidden, something malicious.
Spiritual damage.
Lloyd staggered, his knees buckling. Renzo, sensing the moment, didn't hesitate. He launched a spatial burst, flinging Lloyd across the arena. The young man crashed into the edge of the ring, his body limp, his blade shattered.
The crowd gasped.
The referee hesitated, then raised his hand. "Victory—Renzo Vale!"
Cheers erupted from the Crimson Vale Sect. Their elders smiled. Their disciples roared. But not everyone was celebrating.
Several experts from the Azure Drift Alliance frowned. A few elders from Lloyd's sect exchanged glances, their expressions dark. They had felt it—the foreign pulse, the spiritual interference. It had come from the viewing platforms. From one of the elders seated behind Renzo's sect.
A hidden technique. A forbidden strike.
But no one spoke.
The Crimson Vale Sect was powerful. Influential. Their reach extended across continents. To accuse them without proof would be suicide—for Lloyd, for his sect, for anyone who dared.
Jalen's eyes burned.
He had felt it too. The moment the spiritual damage struck, he had nearly moved. Nearly revealed himself. But he stopped—not out of fear, but out of calculation. The elder who attacked Lloyd was strong. Not stronger than Jalen—but protected by layers of political armor.
And Lloyd… Lloyd had made a choice.
He didn't protest. He didn't shout. He didn't demand justice.
He simply stood, bowed to the referee, and walked away.
His steps were slow, his body trembling, his spirit core fractured. But his eyes—his eyes were steady. Angry. Focused.
Jalen followed from a distance, silent as flame.
___
Back in his quarters, Lloyd collapsed onto his bed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion and pain. He activated Light Bell, channeling light qi into his fractured core, hoping to begin the healing process.
Normally, the technique would restore at least eight percent of his internal damage on first use—enough to stabilize his spirit and ease the strain. But this time was different. The attack he had suffered wasn't something Light Bell could simply erase. It wasn't just powerful—it was insidious, designed to unravel his cultivation from the inside out.
His body trembled. His breath came in short, ragged bursts.
He gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his brow as the light qi surged through him, struggling to mend what had been torn apart. The pain was sharp, but the frustration cut deeper.
A knock echoed at the door.
"Enter," he said, voice strained.
The door opened to reveal the four elders from his sect, accompanied by the seven disciples who had also competed in the tournament. Their expressions were a mix of concern and quiet disappointment—not in Lloyd, but in the injustice they had witnessed.
They had all believed in him. Lloyd was their brightest star, their number one genius. His loss wasn't just unexpected—it was unthinkable.
To the disciples, it seemed he had simply been overpowered. But the elders knew better. They had felt the interference. Someone had intervened.
The Spirit Fusion Realm master who had taken Lloyd under his wing, Alando stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"You did your best," he said, voice low but resolute.
"Yes, Senior. You did your best," one disciple echoed. Then another. One by one, they offered words of encouragement, trying to lift Lloyd's spirit.
Lloyd nodded, grateful but silent. The pain in his core was matched only by the fire in his eyes.
Later that evening, the sect representatives departed the tournament grounds. With Lloyd's elimination, there was no reason to remain.
But as they journeyed home, passing through the mist-laced valleys of the Whispering Hollow Pass, they stumbled into trouble.