Morning came to the Jade Basin with a breath of mist and golden light. The rising sun bled through the cascading waterfalls that bordered the basin, casting shimmering reflections across the polished stone paths and carved wooden railings. Attendants moved swiftly, brushing down the arena seats, lighting sticks of slow-burning incense, and placing chilled tea in shaded booths.
But no amount of ritual or polish could contain the anticipation that churned in the air.
By mid-morning, the fourth level of the Jade Basin had transformed into a roaring sea of cultivators. The dueling stage, set like a jewel in the heart of the viewing arena, was surrounded by a crowd so thick it seemed to pulse like a living thing. Every seat was taken. Latecomers stood behind railings or hovered midair on flying tools, all craning for a glimpse of the platform. The walls of the upper terraces thundered with laughter, jeers, and fevered bets being placed.
Ondira sat, her expression unreadable behind a mask. Her posture was relaxed, but her fingers tapped softly on the armrest, betraying her interest. Beside her, Mei Rong leaned forward, her chin resting on her palm, a grin playing on her lips.
Jin Shui sat with arms crossed and a cool gaze, saying nothing, yet his eyes never strayed from the dueling platform and then there was Xie Lian, ever silent, ever still.
Excitement burned like wildfire, rolling across the fourth level.
They were waiting for a duel. But more than that—they were waiting for a name.
A sudden hush rolled over the fourth level—not silence, but a subtle shift in the noise, like the intake of a thousand breaths at once. The crowd's excitement didn't fade; it held its breath, caught between mockery and curiosity.
Two figures stepped onto the dueling platform, one graceful as a shadow, the other stern as stone.
Clad in a flowing black robe embroidered with the crescent sigil of the Second Moon, Agabah descended like a theater actor taking center stage. His posture was as arrogant as ever—hands clasped behind his back, chin slightly lifted, eyes half-lidded with an expression of disdain etched onto his pale face. His thin mustache twitched as he passed the front row of spectators, who drew back slightly without knowing why.
Behind him strode an elder, plain, dressed in simpler black with silver trims. His expression was impassive, but his aura rippled with suppressed spiritual force. Though he said nothing, his presence was a warning—Agabah was not alone today.
The young master halted in the center of the stage, surveying the tiers of spectators as if judging their worth one by one. His gaze slid past Mei Rong, Jin Shui, Xie Lian—he smirked when he noticed Ondira but said nothing.
Then, lifting his chin higher, he spoke, his voice smooth and mocking, yet loud enough to echo through the entire level.
"So this is the grand Jade Basin duel floor I've heard so much about. Hm. Crude, compared to the Second Moon's dueling court. But I suppose for a backwater gathering… it has its charm."
Nothing broke out across the terraces, but Agabah simply raised a hand, letting their silence wash over him like a warm breeze.
"I suppose we must tolerate the dust if we're to witness a bug crawl," he added, the insult subtle but clear. "Let's hope this ant won't faint before we begin."
Before the crowd could erupt again in jeers or anticipation, a low, reverent murmur began to ripple through the fourth level. It spread like wildfire from terrace to terrace, voices lowering, postures straightening.
Then came the sound—footsteps, slow and deliberate, each one striking the jade floor like a gavel pounding in a silent court.
A figure emerged.
Wu Rong.
Clad in ceremonial robes of deep forest green trimmed with gold, the basin's presiding master walked with his hands folded behind him, his gaze heavy as a mountain.
he approached the edge of the platform and spoke with a voice like rolling thunder.
"This duel shall be overseen by me personally. Any who interfere… will answer to the Jade Basin's laws."
A wave of murmurs broke out.
"He's watching it himself?"
"If he's in this, this is a high stake duel!"
The crowd watched in reverent silence as Wu Rong took his place at the edge of the platform, robes rustling like leaves in a quiet storm. His expression was carved from stone—measured, still, unreadable. But those who knew him well… could see the strain beneath.
He didn't speak with thunder. He didn't need to.
But his steps, his presence, his very arrival—none of it was for formality. It was necessity.
Because though he stood above this duel, he did not stand above Agabah.
The Second Moon's reach was long—too long. Their resources vast, their cultivation methods strange and profound. Wu Rong might command the Jade Basin, but before the Second Moon, even he had to tread carefully. Their envoy could trample his halls and claim diplomacy. Their disciples could sneer and pretend it was youthful arrogance.
And Agabah?
Agabah knew.
Knew the weight he carried.
Agabah's smile was calm.
Too calm.
The kind that came from knowing the script in advance, from holding the strings while others danced.
He wasn't here for justice.Not for honor.Not even for victory.
He was here for revenge.
Not for a grudge between clans. Not for some long-standing rivalry.
But for a moment—a single moment—where Kazel, sickly and supposedly insignificant, had stood tall before him…
…and called him a fly.
Not a rival. Not an opponent. Not even a name.
Just a fly—to be swatted.
It happened on the second floor of this very basin, with half the level watching.
( A fly? Me? )
( You think a cripple with one foot in the grave can insult me and live? )
( You think you can humiliate me—before my elder, before the disciples of Jade Basin—and then walk away like nothing happened? )
This duel wasn't about proving superiority.
It was about correction.
Agabah would make Kazel crawl. He would force him to the ground, break his posture, and have him beg—not for his life, but for forgiveness.Not because Kazel deserved punishment… but because Agabah demanded recognition.
"Let him come," he whispered, lips barely moving. "Let him stand tall. I'll make him kneel. Kowtow. Apologize. And bark if he must."
He glanced sideways at Wu Rong.
( And the old man won't stop me. Not really. Not unless he's ready to throw Jade Basin into war. )
Wu Rong raised his brows ever so slightly as he glanced toward the far corner—the one opposite Agabah, where the challenger would arrive.
The crowd followed his gaze instinctively.
Silence fell. No whispers. No coughs. Only the echo of footsteps, slow and steady, ringing in their ears like war drums muffled by fog.
( This is a stupid match… )Ondira crossed one leg over the other, eyes locked on the approaching sound.( But… it's my chance to see if your reputation matches your skill. )
Then—a sound.
Not a roar. Not a gust of spirit force.
Slurping.
Loud. Clear. Casual.
A massive porcelain bowl, white as bone, emerged first. Then came the one-arm cloak, draped carelessly over broad shoulders.
Kazel.
He ate as he walked.
Chopsticks in one hand, cloak brushing against the steps, he ascended with the calm of a man going for seconds at a quiet dinner table—not walking into a sanctioned death duel.
"Kh?!"Agabah's breath hitched. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, disbelief carving rage into every line of his face. Even his elder beside him stiffened, momentarily robbed of words.
The spectators gasped—but none louder than their own silence.
Wu Rong's calm shattered for a blink, his eyes narrowing in sheer disbelief.Ondira leaned forward slightly, lips parting.Jin Shui blinked once, brow furrowing.Xie Lian's calm shattered with a quiet scoff.Mei Rong looked stunned.
Everyone knew.
Everyone remembered.
It was Kazel who called Agabah a fly.
But it was Agabah who first walked into the Jade Basin like it belonged to him.
That should've been the end of it. A passing insult. A little heat between arrogant youths.
But this—this was war.
Kazel brought his bowl to his lips, drinking the broth in slow gulps. Then, without a shred of urgency, he resumed slurping the noodles. His footsteps came to a lazy stop atop the dueling platform.
And there—still chewing—he looked at Agabah.
Eyes half-lidded.
Expression bored.
As if trying to remember where he left off.
As if Agabah was not his opponent—
—but his interruption.