Chapter 21: Thunder in the Mist
The battle erupted like a storm loosed from the heavens.
When Ryo leapt into the fray, his sudden arrival sent a ripple of shock through the encircling cultivators. Sword light flared in arcs of cold steel, talismans cracked with spiritual power like shattering ice, and more disciples of the Blue Mist Mountain Sect burst from the fog, their movements swift and seamless. Coordinated strikes whistled through the air, slicing into enemy ranks with precision honed through months of joint training.
The other four ruling Sect disciples faltered for only a moment—but it was enough. Their formation splintered slightly, forced to adjust under the renewed pressure.
And yet, they didn't break. Instead, they surged with renewed ferocity, burning through their spiritual reserves with reckless aggression. Their goal was clear: Xavier Reu. Before he could reach the arena phase, they would cripple him—or eliminate him.
High above, obscured by drifting veils of mist, several Core Formation and Nascent Soul elders observed in silence. Some sat atop majestic flying beasts with scales like jade and eyes of gold, while others stood upon levitating talismans etched with glowing runes. Their long robes stirred in the spiritual wind, their expressions solemn, eyes sharp with ancient wisdom.
"That boy... Xavier Reu," murmured a Nascent Soul elder, his voice like thunder muffled beneath silk. "He's not just gifted. That level of composure… under siege? It borders on unnatural."
A Core elder from one of the ruling sects nodded slightly. "They're testing his limits, striking to maim, not kill. Tendons, joints, vital meridians… precise and ruthless."
"Trying to wear him down," another elder said, arms folded beneath a wide-sleeved robe. "But he's not slowing. That lightning swordplay—refined, brutal, elegant. He's already surpassed most early Core Formation cultivators."
Below, Xavier moved like a storm given form—his sword arcs trailing afterimages of violet light, each swing punctuated by the crackle of thunder-charged air. He pivoted on slick ground, twisted mid-air, flowed between attackers—always one breath ahead, always just beyond danger. His strikes carried no waste, no hesitation. Only intent. Only certainty.
"Thunder Mist!" Ryo's voice sliced through the chaos as he spun through two attackers, lightning dancing up his blade.
He skidded to a halt beside Xavier, panting hard. "Damn, man! Leave some excitement for the rest of us!"
Xavier said nothing. His blade still sparked faintly, the edges humming with residual energy. His eyes never left the field—locked on the next wave of attackers. Even surrounded by blood and haze, his presence was grounded. He didn't just resist pressure—he anchored it.
The other cultivators hesitated. Their ambush was failing. What was meant to be a swift, overwhelming elimination had turned into a grinding meat grinder—and Xavier wasn't tiring.
Small groups began to retreat into the mist.
"This is insane—he's a monster!"
"I'm not throwing my chance away for this!"
Panic took root like creeping vines. In the face of unbroken resistance and relentless retaliation, their morale crumbled.
Soon, only a handful of attackers remained conscious. The clearing was strewn with fallen bodies—some groaning and clutching wounds, others already dragged back into the fog by allies. Among the last standing were Xavier, Ryo, Xuan Bei, and a handful of battered Blue Mist disciples.
Ryo collapsed onto a mossy rock, his robes torn, face streaked with sweat and blood. "Ugh… I regret everything," he groaned, popping a healing pill into his mouth. "Sneak attacks are so much easier than honest combat…"
Not far away, Xavier stood unmoving. His robes were scorched at the edges, his arms cut and bloodied, but he remained upright—his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sparks on his sword had dulled, but the quiet pressure of his presence remained unshaken.
From a distant ridge cloaked in fog, Flux watched in silence.
He didn't move. Didn't speak. He only observed, like a statue carved from mist and will.
"That guy", he thought." He's not just strong—he's measured. Every movement had intent. No wasted energy. No panic. Not once."
A sliver of admiration stirred in him—not envy, not fear. Just quiet recognition. This was someone who had fought battles beyond his years.
Flux turned and vanished back into the mist, his aura melting into the fog like smoke on the wind. He reached a secluded ridge, drew a simple concealment array with a flick of his finger, and sat cross-legged in the silence. The hourglass of the trial still trickled down, and Flux had no interest in unnecessary fights.
He closed his eyes and returned to cultivation.
Back in the clearing, the remaining Blue Mist disciples regrouped slowly. Ryo limped over to Xavier, still breathing hard, his usual bravado returning in fits and spurts.
"Seriously, next time y'all can have your dramatic last stands without me."
"You chose to join," Xuan Bei replied, dry as desert sand as he wiped blood from his cheek.
"Yeah, and now my every body parts hurts."
Despite the grumbling, no one left. They formed a loose circle, guarding the perimeter. The trial might be ending, but none of them were foolish enough to lower their guard.
And then, it came.
A brilliant column of light burst from the heavens, piercing the fog like a divine blade. Golden and silent, it shimmered with pure spiritual power.
The first phase was over.
Each surviving participant, whether upright or barely conscious on the forest floor, was drawn into the air by a surge of spiritual force. It lifted them gently—effortlessly.
Flux didn't resist. He let the light take him.
Moments later, they reappeared—one by one—on the massive transport platform within the tournament plaza. The energy of the small realm dispersed behind them in great waves of mist, unraveling like dream-smoke.
Medical teams swarmed the platform, activating healing formations beneath the stone floor. Blue and green runes lit up in sequence as wounded cultivators were stabilized, bandaged, and helped away.
Out of more than a thousand who had entered… only about two hundred remained.
Ryo spotted Flux almost immediately.
"There you are! I swear, I almost died three times back there."
Flux gave a small nod. "You joined the chaos willingly."
"Yeah, yeah," Ryo grumbled, flopping beside him. "I blame peer pressure. And honor."
Flux didn't answer. His gaze lingered on Xavier, now seated calmly at the far end of the platform. His arms were crossed, eyes closed, aura steady as a mountain beneath the clouds.
That kind of composure after a siege... it wasn't normal.
"That guy's strength is no joke," Ryo muttered. "Seeing it up close? That was a whole different beast."
As the platform stabilized and the skies cleared, several elders descended on clouds of spiritual mist. They landed in perfect formation, their robes billowing faintly in the wind.
A Core Formation elder stepped forward, hand raised.
"Participants," he called, voice amplified with spiritual force. "You have survived the first phase. You are now granted two days of rest. Use this time to recover, reflect, and prepare. The Arena Elimination Rounds begin soon."
A collective exhale rippled across the square.
"Only two hundred…"
"Out of a thousand?"
"Glad I'm still breathing…"
Flux and Ryo left the plaza and made their way back toward the outer districts of Mologan City. The city streets felt strange—almost too calm after the blood and chaos of the trial. The lanterns, the voices, the scents of food—all felt distant, like echoes from a world they'd momentarily left behind.
That evening, Ryo dragged Flux into a glowing gambling hall nestled beneath a row of hanging lanterns. Spirit lights floated overhead, casting warm golden hues on floating name boards etched with glowing odds and bets.
"Come on," Ryo said, nudging him. "You betting on anyone?"
Flux glanced at the name boards. Xavier's name pulsed in gold, surrounded by a sea of wagers and flashing symbols.
"I'll bet on myself," Flux said simply.
Ryo snorted. "Confident, huh?"
"You're not?"
"I'm confident I'll regret this, but yeah—I'm betting on Xavier. That guy's not normal."
The clerk behind the counter raised a brow. "All bets are locked to your pick. If they lose, you lose all previous gains.
You can withdraw your price before the next match only with 5% interest."
Flux nodded. "I'm also not confident in facing him. But if I do meet him in the arena... I'll withdraw my prize."
"Yaa? You confident you'll keep winning until then?" the Ryo asked.
"I'll try my best," Flux replied. "If I lose, then I accept it."
They left the gambling hall soon after, returning to their inn under a quiet, moonlit sky.
The street was still busy with lights and murmurs—many voices speculating about the tournament, placing bets, whispering names.
Soon, the Arena Elimination Rounds would begin.
And this time… the whole city would be watching.