The silence in the air was short-lived.

Veiyra had just steadied herself, still wary after having her neck almost crushed.

There was a flicker of hesitation—then none.

Aaryan moved.

No flourish. No banter. No sly grin.

The mischief that once lit his eyes had been buried beneath something colder—something primal. The moment Dharun fell, something inside him snapped.

She never saw him coming.

Aaryan closed the distance in a blink, his hand tangling into her hair before she could utter a word. He wrenched her back, dragging her off balance with brutal force, and slammed a fist into the centre of her back. The impact cracked like a thunderclap, and her body crumpled mid-air, flying forward like a broken puppet and hitting the ground with a hard thud. She didn't get back up.

Shivul barely turned before Aaryan was in front of him. His eyes widened—too late.

Aaryan's foot crashed into his ribs, lifting him off the ground and sending him skidding into a nearby boulder. The impact drowned out his scream. Blood sprayed across the stone.

Yashan, ever smug, had noticed the danger and tried to move away. But Aaryan was faster. A spinning heel slammed into his chest, and the proud disciple of Cloud Pillar Sect went flying, a red mist trailing from his lips as he crashed across another boulder.

Then—stillness.

Three bodies. Three prodigies. Crushed in seconds.

They didn't stir. Blood pooled beneath them, and for a terrifying heartbeat, no one knew if they were breathing.

The crowd stood frozen. Even the elders hesitated, caught between shock and fury.

Aaryan turned away from them all.

He moved quickly to Dharun's side. The old man had propped himself against a chunk of broken stone, pale and wheezing, blood staining his robes.

"Aaryan…" he croaked, eyes flickering toward the motionless bodies. "What are you doing?"

Aaryan didn't look back. "Giving them someone to kill."

Dharun stared at him, realization dawning like ice in his gut. "You…"

He looked again at the three bodies—Veiyra of Starfall, Shivul of Crimson Serpent Hall, Yashan of Cloud Pillar. Each a prized disciple. Each a symbol of pride.

And Aaryan had shattered them without a second thought.

No. Not thoughtless. Intentional.

Calculated.

A target painted in blood.

"They wouldn't let you off after this." Dharun muttered.

Aaryan met his gaze. His voice was quiet. Cold. "Exactly. Now take the others and run."

Dharun's throat tightened. "This is suicide."

Aaryan let out a faint breath—a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, though it never reached his eyes.

"Then I'll make it count."

The elder's hand trembled as he reached for Aaryan's arm, but the boy was already rising, stepping forward, back straight, eyes locked on the approaching fury of the sect elders.

Behind him, chaos stirred.

And ahead, he welcomed it.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

It took a breath—just one—for the silence to break.

Gasps gave way to roars. The elders of Cloud Pillar, Crimson Serpent Hall, and Starfall Valley surged forward, their eyes wild with disbelief.

"Yashan!"

"Shivul!"

"Veiyra!"

They darted to their respective disciples, falling to their knees as they checked pulses, peeled back bloodied sleeves, and poured pills past unconscious lips.

A collective sigh rippled through the air. The three were alive—battered, but breathing.

Only now did the full weight of what had happened settle in.

One move.

A single strike each—and their strongest young heirs had been rendered helpless.

Someone who had just broken into the eighth stage of Body Tempering had flattened three peak-stage elites like they were little more than sandbags.

Whispers stirred in the crowd. Shock twisted into something sharper—fear.

The three sect elders slowly rose to their feet, eyes locked on Aaryan.

Dharun hadn't moved. Not at first.

His hands shook, his instincts screaming to stop the boy. But in Aaryan's stillness, he saw something irrevocable—like a flame choosing to burn alone.

He stared at Aaryan's back—the way the boy stood there, utterly still, as if daring the world to come for him. Every ounce of Dharun's experience told him this was madness. There was no way any 8th stage body tempering kid could buy enough time against three Qi condensation enraged experts.

And yet… he moved.

Dharun turned, staggering toward the Evernight disciples still encircled by hostile onlookers. His presence alone was enough. The opposing team hesitated, then stepped aside without a word.

He reached his students and gave them a tight nod. "Form up. Stay close."

None dared speak, but every single one of them cast a glance toward the one who had just changed everything.

Rudra's mouth twitched.

Aaryan didn't look at him. Didn't look at anyone.

The three sect elders finally stepped forward, murder clouding their faces.

"You're too ruthless, boy," one spat. "They were fellow disciples of the cultivation world!"

"A cultivator who turns so quickly to violence is a danger to all."

"You crippled three prodigies over an old man's injury? Do you think you're untouchable?"

Aaryan remained silent, expression unreadable. Of course—they weren't condemning him. They were just trying to justify what came next.

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The elders fumed, waiting for protest, remorse—anything. Instead, he looked through them like they were wind.

Their fury deepened. "No matter how talented you are, no matter what tricks you pulled today—you'll die all the same."

Each handed their unconscious disciple to a follower. Glowing pills were fed to each one, and the three elders turned back toward Aaryan as one.

Their killing intent thickened the air.

Aaryan slowly turned his head. His eyes met Dharun's.

A silent nod.

Dharun caught it. He didn't speak, just exhaled and muttered under his breath, "Let's go."

The Evernight disciples began to move. No fanfare. No cheers. Just quiet obedience.

Only Rudra remained still, arms crossed, his voice cutting the tension like a blade laced in fake virtue.

"Don't get me wrong," he said loudly. "What Aaryan did was impressive. But against three elders? That was nothing but a last gasp. He'll die just the same."

No one replied. Not even Dharun.

But every one of them gave Rudra a look—cold, bitter, disdainful. They didn't need words.

They had seen who was willing to bleed for them.

Who had bought their escape with fury and fire.

And who hadn't.

Aaryan didn't turn.

The three elders stepped forward.

And the storm was about to break.

The three elders halted a few steps away from Aaryan, their expressions twisting into sneers as they finally noticed Dharun scurrying away with the Evernight disciples at his side.

For a beat, none of them spoke. Their eyes flicked back to Yashan, Shivul, and Veiyra, now being carried off to the side by their own sect's followers. Alive, but broken.

Elder Jun's mouth twisted. "So, that's it? You want to be the hero now?"

Elder Ma let out a long sigh, almost theatrical. "A child draping himself in sacrifice. Adorable."

Elder Kezan scoffed. "He thinks to delay us. To buy time for that cripple Dharun and his pups to crawl away."

They looked again—Dharun had already reached the archway, Evernight disciples at his back, shepherding them like a wounded wolf protecting cubs.

Jun shook his head. "A fine gesture. Misguided, but noble."

"Noble?" Kezan's lip curled. "It's a pipe dream. You can't save people from consequences with sentiment."

Elder Jun continued, voice dripping mockery. "You really think you can hold off three elders alone? Boy, if I exhaled a little harder, you'd be tumbling down that wall like a rag."

Laughter erupted—not just from the elders, but from the disciples of the three sects who had been stunned into silence earlier. Their relief was almost pathetic, blooming like weeds in a battlefield. Some clutched their injured comrades; others still bore traces of fear in their eyes—but now, as their leaders laughed, they joined in, scoffing at the boy who had dared to defy them all.

Elder Kezan raised his hand, showing five fingers and smirked. "Five breaths," he said, counting aloud. "That's all it'll take. We'll cripple you limb by limb, and then we'll drag that old bastard Dharun back. This little act of sacrifice? It'll be remembered as a joke."

"A shame, really," Elder Ma stepped forward slightly. "If you'd just stayed quiet and clever, you might've lived long enough to serve tea to someone important."

"You crippled our sect prodigies," Jun said, voice cool and venom-laced. "You think that earns you mercy?"

"You're strong," Ma added, mockingly generous. "A real talent. But Strength that won't kneel is just rebellion waiting to rot."

Kezan sneered. "That look in your eyes—is it courage, or have you finally lost your mind?"

Through it all, Aaryan said nothing.

He stood alone, framed by the ruins, as the weight of three killing auras bore down on him. But his back was straight. His expression unreadable.

He didn't argue. He didn't plead.

He raised his hand.

In his palm, something came into existence. It shimmered like a shard of dawn trapped in glass, pulsing gently as if alive.

The laughter died.

Floating just above his skin, the fruit pulsed gently with an eerie life. Its surface shimmered with colours that didn't belong to this world—sky-blue bleeding into storm-violet, flickering streaks of silver that twisted like morning mist. It didn't sit still. It hovered, swaying softly as if caught in a breeze no one could feel.

A silent, living thing.

Eyes widened. Even the elders stiffened.

Because they felt it.

Energy. Pure and enormous.

Aaryan let the silence stretch.

And in that silence, the three sects began to wonder just what this mad boy was holding.

And what he meant to do with it.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Aaryan flipped the fruit into the air with a casual motion, catching it again as his eyes swept across the three elders. Their gazes were locked—not on him, but on the glowing, unearthly object hovering above his palm.

He tilted his head, mockery curling at the edge of his voice.

"Did none of you wonder?" he said, loud enough for the everyone to hear. "How I went from third to eighth stage in just a few hours?"

The elders didn't answer. Their expressions remained taut, breaths held.

Aaryan smiled thinly. "I ate one."

The fruit glimmered as he spoke, colours rippling in time with his words—dawn-hued blues bleeding into soft silvers and purples, as if the sky itself had been plucked and shaped into a sphere.

"I devoured one of these," Aaryan said, his tone almost teasing. "And walked from third stage Body Tempering to its eighth like I was strolling across a bridge."

Gasps echoed from the onlookers, but none louder than the silence that followed.

Elder Ma's eyes widened, her earlier contempt forgotten in an instant. She stepped forward slowly, voice soft now—calculated.

"Aaryan. Hand it over. Do that, and… you may walk away today."

Elder Jun's tone followed like oil. "No need for more blood. Give us the fruit. It doesn't have to end in conflict."

Kezan nodded, lips tight with hunger he could no longer hide. " You're talented, boy. We can forget all this. Let that thing come to someone who can truly make use of it."

Their earlier threats vanished like mist in sunlight, burned away by greed. Whatever caution they'd held was gone—eclipsed by the lure of what they now understood to be a genuine treasure. If it could take a mere outer disciple five stages forward, then refined with herbs—or crafted into a pill—it might even push them into the Second Stage of Qi Condensation.

Aaryan chuckled, low and bitter.

"So quick to change your tune," he said. His gaze flicked toward Ma. "Didn't you already go back on your word once today, Elder Ma? Or was that just a warm-up?"

The words stung harder than a slap. Ma's expression snapped from fake warmth to fury, her cheeks flushing red. Jun and Kezan grimaced, reminded all at once of their earlier declarations—crippling, death, dragging Dharun back.

For a heartbeat, shame crept in.

Then Ma snarled, voice rising. "You're stalling. Helping Dharun escape. That's all this is!"

"He's already gone," Jun said darkly, eyes narrowing. "He's vanished, and we're standing here gaping like fools."

Kezan's aura surged. "We end this now. Take the fruit. Then go after them."

The three stepped forward as one, killing intent returning in full.

Aaryan's eyes narrowed. He looked down at the fruit, felt the heat of three murderous glares bearing down on him.

He exhaled.

Then, quietly, almost to himself, he muttered, "Time to gamble."

The moment stretched thin as the three elders coiled to strike—killing intent sharp, their eyes locked on the fruit in Aaryan's palm.

Then Aaryan smiled.

And tossed the fruit into his mouth.

Time seemed to stop.

The fruit dissolved the instant it touched his tongue, unravelling into a flood of energy so potent, so violently pure, that the air itself trembled around him.

"NO!" Elder Ma's voice cracked with fury.

"You thieving brat!" Elder Jun roared, veins bulging in his neck.

Elder Kezan sounded like a man whose own heart had just been carved out. "That was ours! That was meant for us!"

The three of them surged forward, but it was too late. Aaryan's body jolted, limbs trembling as the energy coursed through him like a river of fire. His muscles twisted. Veins bulged. His skin flushed red, then pale, then red again as the energy tore through his meridians, trying to rip him apart from within.

He dropped to one knee, teeth clenched so hard they cracked.

His heart thundered. Bones groaned. Every breath felt like drawing in molten glass. His vision swam with stars, and the blood vessels in his eyes burst.

And yet—beneath the pain—was power.

So much power.

Aaryan gritted his teeth as his cultivation surged, pushed up against the boundary of Body Tempering's peak—then beyond. A faint shimmer bloomed inside his body, like streaks of thunder running with every breath. Not quite a breakthrough. But it was close. Closer than he had ever dreamed.

The three elders froze mid-step, watching with a mix of horror and envy as his aura climbed.

"That fruit—just one—and he nearly broke through…" Jun whispered, disbelief crawling into his voice.

"He's wasting it!" Ma hissed. "That kind of treasure—it's not meant for someone like him!"

"They cost a fortune! You need heaven defying luck just to see one, let alone buy!" Kezan spat, his face contorted with rage. "And he dares… he dares—!"

Their grief turned to madness. They hurled threats at him, voices cracking with hate.

"We'll make you suffer," Ma snarled. "We'll make you crawl and beg before you die."

"You'll wish you were crippled when we're done with you," Jun added, voice trembling with hatred.

"Even if you could have reached Qi Condensation, what then?" Kezan sneered. "There are three of us. You're still dead."

Through the pain, Aaryan looked up—and grinned.

It wasn't the grin of a cornered animal.

It was the grin of a man gambling with his life—and holding the winning hand.

That grin made something cold twist in the elders' stomachs.

Then Aaryan moved.

Two more fruits appeared in his blood-slicked hands.

"No—" Ma breathed, her voice cracking.

"STOP HIM!" Kezan roared.

All three lunged forward, desperate to stop the sacrilege.

But Aaryan was faster.

He shoved both fruits into his mouth.

The world turned white.

The surge of energy that followed was monstrous—an avalanche of power that flooded every inch of his being. Blood exploded from his pores. His skin split. His bones cracked under the strain. He screamed—raw, unfiltered agony tearing from his throat—but he didn't stop. He endured.

The elders were almost on him when it happened.

A pulse.

A roar.

A shockwave of colourless Qi burst from his body like a hurricane made of silence.

The three elders didn't block it.

They couldn't.

They were thrown.

Smashed back across the ground like rag dolls, blood spraying from their mouths as they slammed into trees and stone.

When the dust settled, Aaryan stood alone in the centre.

Drenched in blood.

Eyes glowing with madness and pain.

Breath ragged.

Aura storming around him.

He looked like a demon torn straight from the pits of hell.

And the grin hadn't left his face.

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