The Sabre Sect courtyard was silent, the air thick with anticipation. The deadline Jalen had given was seconds from expiring—when, at last, Patriarch Tavares returned, robes torn from travel, face strained.
Beside him hovered the man everyone had waited for.
Elder Phil Tyrrell.
He looked young for his title—early thirties at most. White-blond hair swept back in a style that tried to project elegance but sagged under the weight of fear. His frame was lean and average, but his posture was rigid with forced pride. His storm-gray eyes, tinged faintly blue, held no warmth. Only calculation.
And to those who knew Lloyd, the resemblance was chilling.
Same bone structure. Same eyes. Same crooked jawline. But where Lloyd's gaze burned with purpose, Phil's flickered with arrogance and decay. He looked like a version of Lloyd twisted by selfish cultivation and unchecked ambition.
Lloyd froze.
It was like staring at a future he had refused to become.
Phil scanned the crowd, expression tight. Tavares had already briefed him on what had transpired—and he was terrified. Not of the duel with a mere early Spirit Fusion cultivator, but of Jalen. The man who had single-handedly annihilated the Wave Weave Temple—a feat so staggering that even the Sabre Sect, a tier above in power, would struggle to replicate it. The same cultivator who had felled Great Elder Lionel with a single strike, reducing one of their strongest to a broken husk in front of the entire sect.
Jalen stepped forward, his presence like a blade unsheathed. Lloyd and Jaquan flanked him.
Tavares cleared his throat, then bowed slightly. "My lord, Elder Phil Tyrrell has arrived as requested."
Jalen nodded. "Good. Then let the duel begin."
Lloyd stepped forward, his aura rising like a storm. "I've waited years for this. I won't wait another minute."
Phil frowned. "Have I done something to offend you, kid?"
He genuinely didn't recognize Lloyd. If not for the Patriarch's warning about Jalen's terrifying cultivation, he would've dismissed the challenge—or killed the brat outright. But now, he treads carefully, fearing the consequences.
Lloyd's blood boiled. He doesn't even remember.
"How dare you forget?" Lloyd growled. "Forget what you did. Forget who you left behind."
He stepped closer, eyes blazing. "I am your karma."
Phil blinked, confused. But before he could respond, Lloyd raised his voice.
"No more talking. Let's duel."
Within seconds, the two combatants were en route, and the entire sect surged toward the Sabre Sect's battle arena. Carved into the heart of the mountain, its walls shimmered with ancient sword glyphs and wind formations that pulsed with ancestral intent. Thousands of disciples flooded the viewing platforms, their robes rippling in the rising breeze. Elders hovered above, silent and watchful, their gazes fixed on the center stage. The sky remained deceptively clear—but the tension in the air was storm-thick, ready to crack.
At the center of the arena stood Phil Tyrrell, mid-Spirit Fusion Realm. His aura was sharp and serrated, wind qi coiling around him like blades eager to be unleashed. His saber—Sky Fang—pulsed with pressure, its edge humming with displacement force, ready to carve through anything in its path.
Across from him, Lloyd stepped forward. His light qi shimmered—not loud, not boastful, but steady and resolute. His robes were plain, his stance relaxed. Yet every elder present felt it: the quiet pressure of someone who had walked through fire and emerged radiant.
Phil turned toward Jalen, seated at a distance, his presence like a mountain watching the storm.
"I hope," Phil said, voice tight, "if he dies, you won't hold it against my sect."
Jalen didn't blink. "If Lloyd dies, then so be it."
The crowd stirred. A ripple of relief passed through the elders and disciples. Perhaps this duel wouldn't end in sect-wide devastation. Perhaps Jalen would honor his word.
But Lloyd's gaze never wavered.
"You don't need to worry about your sect's safety," he said coldly. "Because you won't be around for much longer."
The arena's formation glyphs flared to life. Sword light and wind runes ignited across the stone floor. A dome of qi sealed the battlefield.
The duel began.
Phil struck first—Cyclone Fang Barrage.
Wind blades spiraled outward, slicing through the air with surgical precision. Lloyd activated Radiant Pulse Weave, his body flowing with reactive rhythm. He dodged, bent, and redirected—each movement a dance of light.
Then he vanished—Luminous Veil Step. His form flickered between illuminated zones, leaving shimmering echoes that threw off Phil's targeting.
Phil growled, casting Wind Cage Spiral, trapping Lloyd in a vortex of compressed wind.
Lloyd responded with Refraction Field Bloom. The vortex bent, collapsed, and rebounded—twice as strong. Phil was forced to retreat, his saber deflecting the backlash.
Gasps erupted from the crowd. An early Spirit Fusion cultivator had just forced a mid-tier elder to step back.
Phil's eyes narrowed. He cast Sky Rend Sabre Dance, his body blurring into a storm of slashes. Each strike bent space, slicing through the arena's protective formations.
Lloyd activated Threading Loop Resonance, coiling light qi through his limbs. He blocked, buffered, and redirected—but the pressure mounted. Phil's strikes were relentless, sharpened by years of ruthless cultivation.
Lloyd staggered. A slash grazed his shoulder. Blood sprayed.
Phil smirked. "You came here demanding a duel? Pathetic."
Lloyd's grip tightened. He cast Solar Pulse, a beam of concentrated light qi that cracked Phil's saber aura. Then Flash—a blinding burst that fractured Phil's spirit sense.
Phil reeled, casting Wind Collapse in desperation. The arena trembled.
Lloyd activated Radiant Bastion, a wall of solid light qi. The wind shattered against it.
Phil roared, unleashing Sky Tyrant Spiral—his ultimate technique. Wind qi surged, forming a dragon-shaped vortex that descended with crushing force.
Lloyd was pushed back. His light qi flickered. The crowd murmured. Elders leaned forward.
Then—
Lloyd summoned his Supreme Grade Light Saber.
Gasps rippled through the arena. Eyes gleamed with envy. The saber pulsed with celestial resonance.
Phil's eyes widened. "That's a…"
Light harmonics surged. Lloyd's aura exploded, his pressure amplifying—touching mid Spirit Fusion Realm. The saber didn't just enhance him. It transformed him.
He swung.
The blade sliced through the wind dragon's core. The vortex collapsed in a burst of shattered qi.
In an instant, Lloyd cast Piercing Ray Spiral, drilling into Phil's shoulder. Flesh tore. Blood spilled.
Phil staggered, casting Wind Displacement Pulse to escape.
Lloyd activated Flash Reversion, teleporting to a light-bearing point behind Phil.
His saber descended.
Phil blocked—barely—then countered with a wind blade that slashed across Lloyd's torso.
Blood sprayed. Lloyd staggered.
But he didn't fall.
He stood firm.
And the storm raged on.