Inside the Dreamlike Forest, an old voice scraped through the canopy—dry and ugly, like dust dragged across stone.
"…Damn it."
A gaunt face surfaced between branches, half-hidden by shadow. The man's eyes were narrow with spite as he stared in the direction Adrian Vale and Raven Shaw were advancing.
He had watched from the beginning.
Every wrong turn. Every close call. Every moment he'd expected them to bleed out and vanish.
Instead, they had butchered a swarm of S-rank Divine Domain creatures and kept walking as if it had been nothing more than stretching before a meal.
The old man's lips curled.
"Arrogant brats," he hissed. "This treasure is mine. Don't even think about touching it."
His body blurred.
No wind. No sound. Just a subtle ripple in the air—
—and then he was gone, leaving the forest looking exactly the same… except for the sense that something was now moving just out of sight.
On Blue Star, the Blue Star Deathmatch feed snapped back into focus.
Viewers flooded in so fast the count jumped in visible waves—Dragon Nation's streak had turned the broadcast into a global obsession. Even people who hated watching kept watching, as if they were hoping to finally see the impossible happen.
The screen was still black.
The chat wasn't.
"Dragon Nation again? These rounds are disgusting."
"Bro, Zhang Qilin's black-gold ancient blade already has replicas online. Scam sellers want ten thousand a piece!"
"Next up is Fahai, right? I've been waiting."
"Fahai's been overseas for years—now we finally get to see him in the Deathmatch!"
"'A monk with compassion' my ass. Fahai is built different."
"I'm betting Fahai ends it in three minutes. Ten grand USD. Who's taking it?"
"Two minutes. Thirteen grand. Don't blink."
"I'm broke—I'm betting one dollar. Last money this month."
"I'm putting thirty cents. Yesterday's红包 money. Let's go."
Confidence poured out of the Dragon Nation chat like fuel.
On the other side of the world, Tofu Nation looked like it was attending a funeral.
"Why is it ALWAYS Dragon Nation?"
"What's the point? Another beatdown."
"Can anyone—ANYONE—please humble them?"
"They're too arrogant. I can't stand it."
The arena finally lit.
A white pillar slammed down, dust bursting outward like a shockwave—then the dust thinned, pushed aside by sheer presence.
A monk's robe.
A heavy stance.
A body like a wall.
Fahai stood in a saffron kasaya, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, with a face that looked carved from fury—then polished into calm.
For a heartbeat, even the clownish chat stalled.
"Holy—Fahai is NOT a normal monk."
"That's a wrathful Vajra guardian in human form."
"Why does he look like a game boss?"
Someone tried to soothe the mood.
"Guys, he's a monk. He can't be that brutal, right? Probably rumors."
On the arena floor, Fahai turned his head slowly, scanning the empty platform with an expression that almost passed for gentle.
"Where is my opponent?" he asked warmly. "Today, this humble monk will save you."
He lifted his staff and swung once.
WHUM—
The air cracked. A ring of pressure rolled outward, making the dust jump as if the ground had flinched.
Fahai's voice rose—less kind now, more absolute.
"In front of me, all demons reveal their true form."
"Come out, sinner."
"Let this humble monk personally deliver your salvation."
The chat froze again.
"…Is he 'saving' people with the staff?"
"I've never heard 'salvation' sound like an airstrike."
Another white pillar slammed down opposite him.
A tall man stepped out in Tofu Nation competitor gear—nearly two meters, broad enough to look confident on any ordinary battlefield.
He blinked at the monk, confused.
Fahai's eyes locked onto him instantly.
"Good," Fahai snapped. "You finally show yourself. You've made this humble monk wait."
"You reek of sin. Today, I will spend great effort… to save you."
The Tofu Nation contestant looked genuinely lost.
"Save…? What does that even mean?"
He studied the robe, the staff, the stance—trying to match it to something cultural, something he could use to slow the pace down.
He cleared his throat and bowed slightly, careful and respectful.
"Master… I know a little about Dragon Nation scriptures. Perhaps we can exchange teachings—discuss the Diamond Sutra?"
Fahai froze.
"…Discuss?"
For half a second, you could almost see his thoughts fighting each other.
This guy is trying to talk his way out.
But the cameras are on.
If I don't justify it, people will talk.
Fahai pressed his palms together and forced his voice back into holy calm.
"Tell me, benefactor… do you know the story of 'cutting flesh to feed the eagle'?"
The Tofu Nation contestant stared blankly.
"…I don't."
Fahai's expression dropped like a guillotine.
"You don't even know that?"
"And you still claim sincerity?"
"Wasting this humble monk's time."
RIP—
He tore his upper robe like it was paper.
Carved muscle. Thick cords of strength. A physique that made the word "trained" feel insulting.
The arena—then the world—went dead quiet.
Fahai inhaled.
"Enough play."
"My salvation begins now."
He planted his staff into the stone.
THUNK.
Then he sprinted.
Not like a monk.
Like a siege engine deciding it was tired of walls.
The ground trembled under each step.
The Tofu Nation contestant felt the pressure hit him like a moving storm and instinctively raised both hands.
"Wait—!"
Too late.
A fist—bronze-lit, as if it carried its own sun—drove into his face.
BOOM.
His body lifted off the ground and flew backward like a ragdoll, tumbling twice before slamming down hard.
He hit the stone.
Seven orifices bleeding.
Eyes wide with disbelief.
Fahai calmly picked up his robe, draped it back over his shoulders, and pulled his staff free.
His face returned to serene composure.
"Amitābha," he said softly. "Another evil has been removed from the world."
"This humble monk refuses Buddhahood… until all beings are saved."
The chat detonated.
"HAHAHAHA—ONE PUNCH ONE KID!"
"THE SIGNATURE MOVE—ON-SITE SHIRT RIP!"
"I'M GOING TO FAHAI'S TEMPLE TO TRAIN. WISH ME LUCK."
"How is this 'scripture study'??"
"If Fahai is a 'scholar monk,' the real warrior monks must be ashamed."
Then Will of Blue Star spoke—cold and final.
[Congratulations! Dragon Nation competitor Fahai has advanced!]
White light swallowed the arena.
Back in Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone—
Adrian Vale and Raven Shaw pushed through a dense stretch of trees and stepped into a clearing.
And there it was.
A towering giant of a Divine Tree, so massive it looked like it was propping the sky up by itself.
The third one.
Seven-colored light pulsed faintly across its bark like veins under ancient skin—slow, steady, watchful.
Raven exhaled, relief flickering across her face before she smothered it.
"Third marked point already," she said. "These Divine Trees aren't hard to locate after all."
Adrian didn't relax.
"They're not hard to find," he replied, eyes scanning the silence around the trunk. "What matters is what happens once you find them."
He took a step forward—careful, deliberate—like he was approaching a sleeping animal.
"Every Divine Tree comes with something waiting."
"More creatures. Stronger. More of them."
"We stay sharp."
Raven glanced sideways at him—then at the way his attention didn't look wary so much as… interested.
She suppressed a sigh.
He keeps saying "be careful"… but he's practically hungry.
Adrian didn't bother hiding it.
His tongue brushed lightly over his lips.
His left eye held a faint, hungry red.
In the livestream, Dragon Nation viewers caught it instantly.
"Yeah… Adrian's appetite is back."
"Pray for the next monster."
"Third Divine Tree… why are they collecting these anyway? The trees haven't given anything directly."
"Don't say dumb stuff—unless you want to end up on Adrian's menu."
Adrian and Raven stepped closer to the glowing bark.
And the forest's silence tightened—
—not like wind dying…
but like something had just noticed them.
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