The Grand Martial Arena rang with cheers and gasps, still echoing from Long Chen's effortless suppression of Chen Hao. His name spread like wildfire across the sect.
"Long Chen… he crushed Chen Hao in one palm strike."
"That pressure—it felt like facing a true dragon!"
"Could he be a hidden genius the sect sheltered?"
Long Chen stepped down from the stage, his aura calm as still water, but the faint golden glimmer in his eyes unsettled even seasoned disciples. He was no longer just a dark horse—he had become a storm on the horizon.
Dozens of battles followed, each stage filled with roaring qi and clashing blades. Yet none carried the same shock as Long Chen's match.
One after another, disciples were eliminated, their pride shattered beneath the weight of stronger opponents. Blood stained the arena floor, though the protective arrays prevented true deaths.
At the edge of the stands, Zhao Feng sneered as he watched Long Chen's calm figure. "Enjoy the spotlight while it lasts. Soon, that light will be extinguished beneath my sword."
"Next match: Long Chen vs. Liu Yan."
The fiery-tempered girl strode onto the stage, her crimson spear blazing with flames. Sparks danced around her, her aura hot enough to make the crowd sweat.
"I don't care who you are," Liu Yan declared, spinning her spear. "On this stage, I'll burn you to ashes!"
She lunged forward, spear thrusting like a viper, fire qi exploding outward.
The crowd gasped—her spearwork was exquisite, her attacks relentless.
But Long Chen's steps were light, flowing like drifting clouds. Every thrust missed by a hair's breadth, every fiery strike brushed harmlessly against his sleeve.
His calm voice cut through the chaos.
"Beautiful technique. But you lack the strength to shake me."
He raised his palm, dragon qi roaring to life. With one strike, the fiery spear shattered, and Liu Yan was blasted from the stage, coughing blood.
The arena fell silent, then erupted in shock.
"He defeated Liu Yan without even drawing his weapon!"
"Who is this Long Chen?!"
"Not even inner sect candidates fight like this!"
"Next match: Long Chen vs. Wei Kun."
A tall youth stepped forward, twin sabers gleaming coldly in his hands. His strikes were ruthless, designed to kill even within a duel. He attacked immediately, blades flashing like lightning.
Long Chen's dragon blood stirred, golden scales flickering faintly along his arm. He moved like a shadow, slipping between the flashing sabers. Then, with a single swing of the Iron Fang Blade, he knocked both weapons from Wei Kun's grip.
Before the youth could react, Long Chen's foot struck his chest, sending him tumbling out of the arena.
Another roar of disbelief swept the crowd.
"That's three consecutive wins—each with a single move!"
"He's not even trying!"
"This is beyond the outer sect… even some inner sect disciples would struggle against him!"
High above, elders exchanged glances. Some frowned in worry, others smiled faintly with intrigue.
"This Long Chen… his bloodline is extraordinary. It carries the faint shadow of ancient dragons."
"Too dangerous. Such a disciple may one day devour even the sect."
"But too valuable to ignore. If nurtured correctly, he could become a pillar."
Sect Master Ye Tianxing stroked his beard, his sharp gaze fixed on Long Chen. "Whether he is a storm or a savior… the heavens will decide. Let us continue to watch."
Beside him, Li Qingyue's violet eyes never wavered from Long Chen's figure. For the first time in years, her icy expression cracked, the faintest spark of curiosity glimmering in her gaze.
At last, the announcer's voice boomed.
"Next match: Long Chen vs. Zhao Feng."
The arena fell silent. Every eye turned to the stage. This was the battle everyone had been waiting for—the dark horse versus the sect's most arrogant sword genius.
Zhao Feng stepped forward, his aura sharp as an unsheathed blade. His long sword hummed faintly, the qi around it vibrating with killing intent. His eyes locked on Long Chen, filled with disdain.
"You've danced long enough," Zhao Feng said coldly. "Your tricks may fool the weak, but in front of me, they're nothing. Today, I'll cut you down and show the sect that a dragon is nothing before a sword."
Long Chen walked calmly onto the stage. His robe fluttered lightly in the breeze, his expression indifferent.
"You talk too much."
The words cut deeper than any sword.
The crowd roared in anticipation. The stage trembled beneath the weight of their auras.
Dragon and sword—fate was about to collide.