By now, the entire stadium was aware of what had happened to the Iron Cloud Clan elder. Even those fighting on other stages had paused, their battles forgotten as murmurs spread like wildfire.
But the peak Sage Realm experts and old Sky Limit Realm monsters knew exactly where the attack had come from.
They had felt it.
The wielder of that strike was not only incredibly young—he was at the Mid Sage Realm, with power that surpassed even that. The attack had been clean, precise, and utterly overwhelming. He could have killed that Peak Spirit Fusion Realm cultivator if he'd wanted to. But he had shown mercy.
While the crowd buzzed with speculation, Jalen appeared beside Calen.
Calen lowered his head. "Did I fight well, Master?"
Jalen nodded. Then he activated Flare of Reversion. Light energy enveloped Calen. His wounds vanished. His qi stabilized. His strength returned.
Now, all eyes turned to Jalen, wondering who he was.
At that moment, a powerful qi rained down on him. It was the leading elder of the Iron Cloud Clan, Ian—an early Sky Limit Realm expert.
In a flash, Ian charged with his blade. Just as the strike neared, Jalen activated Flash Reversion, relocating Calen beside Elijah. Then he vanished into shadow using Motion Eclipse, reappearing behind the elder and striking with Luminal Edge.
Ian blocked the attack with ease, forcing Jalen back. He even coughed up some blood from the blow. He's strong, but the difference between the Sage Realm and the Sky Limit Realm was vast—like standing at the base of a mountain and trying to strike the peak.
Note that the brief clash between the two had sent shockwaves through the arena, shattering formations and injuring nearby competitors on the battle stages and the referees.
As Ian prepared to strike again, Elijah stepped between them.
"You dare interfere in Iron Cloud affairs, Elder Elijah?" Ian growled.
"This is a tournament for youngsters to display their strength," Elijah said calmly. "Aren't you ashamed—an elder attacking a junior?"
"That junior nearly killed an elder of my clan."
"That elder shamelessly tried to assassinate his disciple," Elijah retorted. "He should be glad he is still alive."
"Assassinate?" Ian feigned ignorance. "Now you're making things up. No one saw an assassination." He knew that even if anyone did, they wouldn't say anything.
"Just like no one saw that junior attack your elder."
"You really want to do this, Elijah?" The elder snarled.
"Even your clan patriarch wouldn't dare address me with such insolence," Elijah said, his peak sky limit realm aura pressing down like a storm. "Know your place, boy."
Ian staggered, rage burning in his eyes. He prepared to strike again—but before he could move, a voice rang out.
"Ahem. If you two esteemed elders would be so kind as to end this exchange, we can proceed. This is a tournament, not a battlefield for clan feuds."
One of the organizing patriarchs stepped forward—Patriarch Horace of the Swallow Wind Clan.
"Let it be as Patriarch Horace has said," Ian muttered, his voice tight with restrained fury. He cast a final glare at Jalen. "This isn't over."
With that, Ian turned and strode back to the Iron Cloud Clan's viewing platform, where the wounded elder still lay, surrounded by the clan's healers.
Patriarch Horace glanced at Jalen—briefly, but with lingering thought. Not only had this young man achieved the Sage Realm in his early twenties, a feat bordering on the impossible, but he also wielded two types of qi that violently opposed each other: light and shadow. And yet, he used them in perfect harmony, without instability or backlash.
Horace couldn't help but wonder: Where did the Flame Clan find such a beast?
But now was not the time for questions.
With the skirmish ended, Elijah returned to his area with Jalen.
The tournament resumed.
And after several battles, it was eventually Jael's turn for battle.
He stepped onto the Spirit Fusion Realm stage—quiet, composed, eyes half-lidded with focus.
For a moment, the crowd didn't react.
Then the whispers began.
"Wait… Isn't that the kid who traded blows with the Iron Cloud elder?"
"No, that was someone else. That was—"
"He looks exactly like him, just with a different haircut."
"Didn't he display strength beyond Spirit Fusion earlier?"
"What realm is he really in?"
Confusion rippled across the viewing platforms.
But the old monsters didn't speak. They had already seen the truth. They knew Jael wasn't Jalen but a dragon.
—
Jael's opponent stepped forward—a seasoned cultivator from the Thunder Fang Sect, known for his explosive qi and lightning-infused strikes.
The referee gave the signal.
The Thunder Fang cultivator moved instantly—lightning bursting from his feet as he vanished in a crackle of air. He reappeared above Jael, blade drawn, thunder qi spiraling around his arm like a coiled serpent.
He struck.
Jael didn't flinch; he activated Technique #4 of the Spirit Fire Art—Ash Spiral.
A vortex of burning wind erupted around him, catching the descending strike midair. The flame spiral twisted upward, forcing the cultivator to retreat or be consumed. He flipped back, landing in a crouch, eyes narrowing.
The Thunder Fang cultivator surged forward again, this time weaving lightning through his limbs. His strikes came in bursts—short, sharp, and unpredictable. He wasn't just relying on brute force. He was testing Jael's rhythm, trying to find a gap.
Jael gave him one.
Then punished him for it with Technique #3 of the Ice Art—Winter Rend.
Three crescent blades of ice flashed from Jael's fingertips, slicing through the air. The first was dodged. The second grazed the man's shoulder. The third struck his thigh, freezing the fabric of his robes and slowing his movement.
The cultivator grunted, lightning flaring to burn away the frost.
He retaliated with a thunderclap kick, aiming for Jael's ribs.
Jael leaned aside, letting the strike pass before unleashing Technique #14 of the Spirit Fire Art—Blazing Pulse.
A burst of flame qi exploded from his palm, point-blank. The shockwave sent the cultivator skidding across the stage, boots carving trenches in the stone.
The crowd gasped.
The Thunder Fang cultivator rose, breathing hard. His robes were scorched. His thigh still steamed from the ice. But his eyes burned with focus.
He raised both hands.
Storm Net.
A lattice of lightning formed in the air, then collapsed inward—aimed to trap Jael in a cage of crackling death.
Jael stepped forward.
Technique #7 of the Ice Art—Tundra Scatter.
A wide arc of ice shards burst from his palm, colliding with the net mid-air. The lightning flickered, then shattered under the frost. The shards kept going—peppering the stage, forcing the cultivator to leap back.
He landed hard, panting.
Jael didn't pursue.
He simply raised his hand.
Technique #8 of the Spirit Fire Art—Flame Rupture.
A spiral of compressed flame qi launched from his palm, coiling like a serpent. It struck the cultivator's chest—not with brute force, but with surgical precision. The man's defenses flared, but the flame pierced through, igniting his inner qi and forcing him to his knees.
The referee stepped in.
"Victory—Jael of the Flame Clan."
The crowd erupted in cheers. Many top experts watched with keen interest, captivated by the Flame Clan disciple who wielded a dual beast core—a rarity even among dragon-blooded cultivators. His control, his restraint, and his seamless fusion of flame and ice marked him as something exceptional.
As for Elijah, he was more than pleased. Pride flickered behind his calm gaze as he watched Jael leave the stage. This was only the beginning. He couldn't wait to witness the full extent of his new disciple's power.
Jael stepped down, composed and unshaken. His opponent, scorched and unconscious, was swiftly covered and carried away by the tournament curers.
And just like that, the next Spirit Fusion match began.
Two young men entered the stage.
One of them Jalen recognized instantly.
Jin Emberpearl.