The steward paused briefly before calling out, “Next, let us welcome our Lord Elwood, and Miss Hannah!”
Thunderous chatter rolled across the crowd.
From the second level viewing deck, a tall, imposing man strode into view-none other than Landon, Lord of Lunaris.
At his side walked a woman draped in flowing violet robes, her face obscured by a black-veiled bamboo hat.
She was Hannah.
Her appearance sparked a wave of frustrated awe among the men below-her face hidden behind that damn black veil.
In all of Lunaris, no one had ever seen the young Lady Elwood’s face.
A true noble daughter-kept indoors, shielded from prying eyes.
“Miss Elwood, why not lift the veil and show us that famous face?”
A shout rang up from below.
No one knew exactly who screamed it, but it mirrored every man’s unspoken thought.
“To see my daughter’s true face?” Landon barked with confidence.
“Wait for the end of the tournament.
Let the victor lift it himself.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“So the veil is part of the prize, huh?
That’s rich…”
Expectations built fast.
Turns out the Elwoods had their own brand of flair.
Landon nodded slightly to the steward-a simple gesture.
The tournament was to begin.
The steward glanced down the roster, then announced in a booming voice, “Contestant One, Jareth Crowley!
Contestant Two, Cassian Faraday!
Step onto the dueling platform!”
Cassian blinked.
Two?
What the hell?
He’d shown up last, and that sly old steward clearly told him his number was thirty!
“You heard me.
Yes, you!” The steward spoke with dry amusement, as if mocking him.
“I object!” Cassian barked.
“I’m number thirty!
Why the hell am I out here now?”
“Number Two had to answer nature’s call.
You’re stepping in for him,” the steward said flatly.
“Objection denied.”
Cassian growled.
“That still shouldn’t fall to me!”
“If you’re scared, just say so,” came a familiar, smug voice.
Trevor sneered at him.
“Forgot to mention-I am the real number thirty.”
Cassian could’ve sworn a herd of wild beasts stampeded across his mind.
There was no question-Trevor had slipped the steward something nice under the table to swap their numbers.
It was rigged.
Disgusting.
But sulking was pointless now.
Cassian forced himself to calm, his fury cooling to a smolder inside.
If he could unleash both the Grand Spirit Devour Art and the Grand Blood Devour Art, drain the life force of all twenty-nine other contestants, no telling how far his cultivation and physique could rise…
“If you’re too afraid to fight, crawl off and stop wasting our time.”
From up on the stage, Jareth scoffed, arms folded.
The sarcasm didn’t even try to hide.
“Afraid?” Cassian’s voice was low-but he was already stepping onto the platform.
Jareth gave him a look.
“Last I heard, you’re only at the fourth stage of the spiritblade realm, right?
Still time to surrender, before you embarrass yourself.”
BOOM!
As Jareth spoke, he deliberately let loose his spirit pressure.
Instantly, the crowd packed at the base of the battle stage staggered backward dozens of meters.
The aura coming off him was too intense-it crushed the air, made people short of breath.
“He’s at the first rank of the spiritcore realm already?”
“But didn’t Jareth skip joining any sect or academy?”
The scene erupted.
At just eighteen, with no backing from a sect or academy, Jareth had still reached the spiritcore realm.
It was hard not to be shocked.
“Wait-why is that kid still on the stage?”
Amidst the clamor, someone noticed Cassian still standing tall on the battle stage.
Cassian let out a chuckle, shaking his head.
“What’s with all the show?
Not like you’ve got anything worth bragging about.”
His words had barely fallen when he too unleashed his spirit pressure-no holding back.
A flood of silver spiritflame surged around him, blazing with a terrifying presence.
The crowd fell dead silent.
Jareth’s eyes narrowed, disbelief flashing in them.
He’d heard that Cassian was only at the fourth stage of the spiritblade realm.
But that was either wrong-or a straight-up lie.
“What the hell?
No way I’m sticking around for this!” someone muttered and promptly gave up, walking off without even stepping into the match.
After that, more dropped out.
Most of them were only spiritblade realm cultivators.
In moments, the contestants left were down to just Trevor from Gracehold City, Spencer Watson of Eastwatch City, and Derek Driggs from Azuredrake-they were all seated firmly in the spiritcore realm as well.
The atmosphere shifted, a little awkward now.
But on the viewing platform, Landon didn’t react.
It was like he’d seen all of this coming.
Cassian sighed quietly.
He’d meant to use those other contenders to draw on their spiritforce and blood vitality to boost himself.
But plan’s no good when all the pieces run off.
“Didn’t think you’d been hiding this deep.” Jareth let out a cold grin.
“But let’s see just how strong you really are.”
“Probably a bit stronger than you,” Cassian shot back with a confident smirk.
“We’ll find out.”
Jareth’s face darkened, and his aura flared higher as he lunged, throwing a punch straight at Cassian’s chest.
Cassian sidestepped in a flash.
Jareth missed.
In that opening, Cassian tried to seize his opponent’s wrist, aiming to lock him down with the Faraday Clan’s signature grappling art.
“Bang!”
But Jareth was faster than expected.
Before Cassian’s fingers could close, his opponent’s arm vanished in a blur.
Next breath, a fist slammed into Cassian’s stomach, forcing him back several paces.
“Damn, that’s the Crowley Clan’s Shadow Phantom Fist all right!”
“Guess the Faraday grapples aren’t enough this time.
Too slow.”
Under the battle stage, someone had already made the call.
Cassian grunted through clenched teeth.
He hadn’t thought his family’s technique-also a lower-tier art-would struggle like this.
But against that ghost-step punch of Jareth’s, it wasn’t holding up at all.
Instead, he was the one taking hits.