Aaryan wiped the blood from his lip as he limped back toward the Evernight Pavilion's gathering point. The air still crackled with tension, every step thudding against the fading roars of the crowd. His robes were torn, his limbs aching, but his grin stayed stubborn on his face.

Out of the corner of his eye, a blur cut across his vision.

Yashan.

The Cloud Pillar Sect's genius, face twisted in rage, shot forward like a mad beast. Aaryan's instincts screamed. Without thinking, he threw himself sideways, dodging with all the grace of a drunk duck. He barely evaded the blow, feeling the rush of wind tear past his ear.

"Seriously? I just survived! Give me a damn minute—!" he wheezed.

Before Yashan could strike again, a cold shadow flashed between them.

Dharun.

He stood there, blocking Yashan's path without even glancing at him. His gaze flicked to Aaryan.

"You alright?" Dharun asked, voice low and steady.

Still sprawled on the ground, Aaryan gave a thumbs-up and flashed a grin. "Never better! Always dreamed of learning to fly. Guess today was Step One: Face-first launch."

A muscle twitched at the edge of Dharun's mouth — maybe a suppressed sigh, maybe something dangerously close to amusement — but he said nothing.

Before the tension could snap, another figure materialized beside Yashan. The Cloud Pillar Sect's elder, robes stirring in the thickened air, locked eyes with Dharun. His gaze was sharp, challenging. Dharun's expression hardened, the temperature between them dropping like a stone.

The arena, moments ago alive with cheering, held its breath.

Before anything else could break loose, Rudra stormed across the arena grounds, his robes billowing behind him. His face was dark with anger as he came to a halt between Dharun and the Cloud Pillar Elder, fixing Yashan with a hard glare.

"What do you think you're doing?" Rudra snapped, his voice cutting through the thick silence.

For a heartbeat, Yashan froze. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white. In the heat of the moment, he'd acted without thinking — and now, with everyone watching, there was no easy way out. His pride wouldn't let him back down. Gnashing his teeth, he turned his glare onto Aaryan, hatred boiling in his chest. All because of that damn rat...

Aaryan, still dusting off his torn robes, caught the look and raised an eyebrow, as if wondering what new nonsense Yashan was about to spout.

"He was too vicious in his attacks!" Yashan spat. "He should be punished!"

Rudra's expression didn't even flicker. His voice, when he spoke again, was clipped and cold. "It was your side that proposed the duel. You set the bet. Your people who used pills to boost their strength. And still, you lost."

Each word hit like a hammer. Yashan's face twisted with rage. Every murmur from the watching disciples felt like a blade against his skin, cutting deeper into what little pride he had left.

Losing face... all because of him...!

Breathing heavily, Yashan jabbed a finger at Aaryan and roared, "Fine! If you won't punish him, he should at least apologize!"

The arena buzzed, a ripple of low whispers spreading through the disciples of both sects.

On the Cloud Pillar side, many disciples exchanged uneasy glances. It was obvious Yashan was forcing the issue. His demand reeked of desperation, but loyalty to their sect—and fear of offending a genius like Yashan—kept them silent. A few even nodded stiffly, murmuring vague words of agreement.

In contrast, the Evernight Pavilion disciples broke into snickers and soft jeers.

"Should we send him a handkerchief too?" one muttered loud enough for several to hear.

"Poor guy can't even lose properly," another added with a sharp laugh.

The mockery made Yashan's face darken further, veins bulging at his temples. His hands trembled at his sides, barely restraining the urge to lash out.

Rudra's expression remained cold as he faced Yashan again. "Not possible," he said flatly. "Aaryan fought within the rules. He did nothing wrong."

Yashan's jaw clenched. The taste of humiliation was bitter on his tongue, but he refused to back down. He took a step forward, voice dropping low, thick with menace.

"It would be... unwise," he said slowly, "if relations between our sects soured because of a single outer disciple."

He let the words hang, then added with a cruel smile, "Who knows? Maybe accidents happen on the road. Dangerous... unforeseen accidents."

The threat was plain as day. The air in the arena shifted, tension crackling between the two sides.

Rudra's fist tightened at his side, anger flashing in his eyes. Part of him wanted to retaliate immediately—make it clear Evernight Pavilion didn't bow to threats.

But then he hesitated.

If it was one of the other inner disciples... even himself, he would have fought this out without blinking. But for an outer disciple? A name barely known even within their own Pavilion.

Was it worth risking a conflict?

Rudra exhaled slowly, suppressing his fury. Cold pragmatism settled into his bones.

He turned toward Aaryan, his expression hard and unreadable.

"Apologize," Rudra said.

The arena seemed to fall silent.

Disciples from both sects stopped whispering, waiting, watching.

All eyes were on Aaryan.

He blinked once. Then twice.

In his head, a voice immediately fired off:' Apologize? For what? Breathing too hard? Winning too well? Should I apologize for having better hair too while I'm at it?'

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For a split second, Aaryan imagined throwing himself to the ground, sobbing dramatically, maybe even clutching Yashan's ankles while wailing, "Forgive me, oh mighty sore loser!"

The mental image almost made him snort.

But the cold weight in Rudra's voice pulled him back to reality.

This wasn't a joke. Not right now.

His fingers flexed at his side, dust and blood caked on his torn sleeves. His grin faded into something quieter, something sharper.

Aaryan said nothing.

The silence stretched on, heavy and expectant.

Cloud Pillar Sect disciples stared at him with smug anticipation.

Evernight Pavilion disciples watched with tight faces, some with faint frowns, others looking away.

Just as Aaryan was about to open his mouth, a voice cut through the heavy silence.

"You want him to apologize?" Dharun said, calm but unmistakably cold.

Rudra stiffened. Facing Dharun wasn't the same as facing some junior elder. He hesitated for half a breath before replying, carefully choosing his words.

"I... Of course, Aaryan isn't at fault," Rudra said, forcing a light tone. "But if a few words can smooth things over... it might be better this way."

Even as he spoke, his posture said more than his words — the stiff way his arms stayed locked behind his back, the slight downward tilt of his head — all signs that this wasn't a request — just an order hidden behind soft words.

Aaryan caught it immediately. So did everyone else.

The tension in the arena thickened, but then, an unexpected voice cut through the air.

"He's fighting for our sect, damn it!" one of the Evernight Pavilion disciples shouted, his voice rising above the hushed murmurs of the crowd. "He's earned his place today, and now we're going to ask him to apologize? For what? Winning?"

A ripple of agreement ran through a small section of Evernight Pavilion's disciples. Another chimed in, "He took down that bastard fair and square! Who cares about Yashan's feelings?"

The words hit Rudra like a slap in the face. He stood frozen for a moment, the weight of their challenge sinking in. It was rare for any disciple to openly defy him, especially in front of outsiders. He was their leader, their rock, and yet here they were—questioning him. His eyes snapped to the speaker, burning with the first flicker of real anger.

How dare they challenge his decision so openly?

The soft murmur of discontent spread, and some of the other disciples from the Pavilion began to shift uneasily, their eyes flicking between Rudra and Aaryan. Even those who had initially supported the apology were starting to hesitate. This was their sect, their honour, and Aaryan had earned it.

Aaryan, seeing the sudden divide in his sect, sighed inwardly. There was no winning this, not when people were already questioning their leader's judgment. He had to play the game.

He turned towards Yashan with exaggerated exasperation, lifting his arms in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it," he said with a bow that was anything but humble. "I apologize for breathing too hard, for winning too well, for daring to exist as a force that irks the oh-so-magnificent Yashan. Truly, my deepest regrets."

His voice carried, cutting through the tension like a knife. He gave Yashan a pointed, almost playful smile before turning to Rudra with an exaggerated frown. "Oh, my apologies, Rudra. Didn't mean to upset the great sect relations by winning today. How foolish of me."

The sarcasm dripped from every word. The tension between them hung heavy in the air, but Aaryan had done what was needed, and if it made his teeth itch, so be it.

He straightened up, hands held out in mock sincerity, then flashed a grin at Yashan. "Happy now? Can we get on with it, or do you need me to grovel some more?"

Yashan, still fuming, barely spared him a glance. His face was a storm of frustration and pride, but Aaryan wasn't looking for approval. He had played the game.

Rudra, now visibly flustered, forced out a sharp breath, holding the weight of the situation in his chest. The murmurs were still growing. The rift within the Pavilion was widening, and he could feel the eyes on him, waiting for him to make a final move. "Enough," he said, the word cutting through the noise like a blade.

Some of the murmurs died down, though a few still lingered, their voices quieter but laced with hesitation. The undercurrent of discontent hadn't vanished completely.

Aaryan turned his back and started heading toward his camp, his footsteps light and casual, as if the weight of the moment hadn't phased him at all. But as he passed Dharun, their gazes locked on each other for a second before continuing toward his camp.

As he neared the camp, he wiped his bloodied face with a grimace, letting the tension slip from his shoulders. The arena was still buzzing, but the echoes of it had already faded to the background for him. He had done what he needed to do. For now, that was enough.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Another week had passed since the clash with Cloud Pillar Sect, but the atmosphere in the Evernight Pavilion still hummed with tension. Aaryan sat cross-legged in his quarters, his wounds from the battle mostly healed, but the subtle reminders of the fight still lingered on his body.

Dharun stepped in, his footsteps soft but deliberate. His gaze lingered for a moment on Aaryan, noting the faint bruises that had yet to fully fade.

"How are the injuries?" Dharun's voice was calm, but there was a slight undercurrent of concern.

Aaryan stretched, his grin wide. "I'm practically invincible. A few scratches here and there. Nothing I can't shake off."

Dharun studied him, brow furrowing slightly. It wasn't just the physical that caught his attention. Aaryan always seemed to brush off wounds, like there was something deeper he kept hidden.

"Hm," Dharun said, shifting the conversation. "I've noticed you always use the Coiling Serpent Bind in your fights. It's a solid technique, but there are far more powerful ones within the sect. Why stick to just this one?"

Aaryan reclined, arms casually behind his head. "It suits me. Why spread myself thin learning every technique when one fits perfectly? Besides, if it works, why complicate things?"

Dharun raised an eyebrow. "Is that really all? Or is it that you're too... careful with your spirit stones?"

Aaryan smirked. "Guilty as charged." He winked. "Why waste resources when I can make do with what I've got?"

Dharun chuckled, a slight glint of admiration in his eyes. "Practical, if nothing else. But if you focused on expanding your skills, you could become one of the strongest disciples in the sect."

Aaryan's expression softened, his gaze distant for a moment. "Speaking of strength… when we reach that tomb, I'll have already made an enemy of Yashan. Rudra isn't fond of me either. This better be worth all the trouble."

Dharun's lips twitched upward, a rare smile breaking through his normally stoic expression. "We'll reach it tomorrow. And trust me, it will be worth the trouble, if you manage to secure the treasures inside."

Aaryan raised an eyebrow. "And if I can't?"

Dharun's smile faded, his expression turning more serious. "Then you might regret stirring up this much trouble." His voice held a steady weight. "But I doubt it. You have a way of making things work, no matter the odds."

Aaryan grinned again, but with a hint of caution. "I've got that much covered."

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

As they approached the tomb, its massive stone structure emerged from the distance, cloaked in a pulsating, bowl-shaped energy barrier. The air around it hummed with power, as though the tomb itself were alive, breathing in rhythm with the world. The barrier shimmered, casting a soft, almost hypnotic glow. It was clear this was no ordinary site; whatever lay within was well-guarded.

The Evernight Pavilion disciples moved toward a nearby hill to set up camp, the tomb looming ominously in the distance. The place was a mystery, ancient and untouched. As one of the top sects, no one dared challenge their right to set up here. The disciples moved quickly, erecting tents and preparing for the night ahead.

Aaryan stood at the hilltop for a moment, surveying the scene. His eyes lingered on the tomb, his mind still processing the gravity of the situation. The wind tugged at his hair, but the anticipation pressing down on him felt heavier than the breeze. This was the culmination of all his struggles—and yet, a sense of unease clung to him. Something about the moment didn't feel right. It gnawed at him, a shadow whispering at the edges of his mind.

As the others marvelled at the tomb, Dharun's voice broke through the stillness. "I'm going to gather some information. Stay alert, and don't wander too far."

Rudra's commanding voice followed, sharp and clear. "Set up the camp. We'll rest here tonight. Secure the perimeter."

The disciples moved quickly to follow the orders, and Aaryan was about to do the same when an unsettling feeling washed over him. He turned instinctively, his eyes drawn to a distant hill across the valley. There, standing atop the rise, was a figure—someone watching them from afar. As their gazes met, Aaryan recognized Yashan standing among a group of disciples that didn't belong to Cloud Pillar Sect.

But what struck him more was that around Yashan, were disciples from some other sect, not from the Cloud Pillar sect, and right beside Yashan , was a young man of similar age as Yashan, looking coldly at Aaryan. His cold gaze locked with Aaryan's, sending a shiver down his spine.

A strange, undeniable sense of danger simmered in Aaryan's chest, but he shook it off. There was no point in obsessing over future problems. The tomb was close. He would face whatever came next when the time was right. For now, he had to focus on setting up camp and preparing for whatever awaited them inside.

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