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Chapter 266: True Face

'Living furnaces,' I thought bitterly, the words turning over in my mind like poison. That's what they called them. Children, orphans, forgotten souls—used not as individuals but as tools, as resources to fuel the sect's insatiable greed for power. The sect's cultivation method was built on a twisted principle: Yin mana thrived when balanced with Yang, and the higher the quality of the Yang mana, the greater the benefits.

For most Awakened, the quality of their mana improves naturally as they grow stronger, as they cultivate their cores and accumulate experience. But the Cloud Heavens Sect didn't have the patience for that. Why wait for slow, arduous growth when you can simply take what you need?

That's why their sect consisted almost entirely of women. Their bodies were naturally aligned with Yin mana, but to achieve the speed and strength they craved, they needed Yang mana to balance it. And rather than earn it through effort or partnerships, they chose the path of least resistance.

The Cloud Heavens Sect wasn't always as corrupt as it is now. There was a time when their cultivation methods were considered groundbreaking, even admirable. But the truth has a way of eroding ideals when ambition and greed take hold.

They couldn't attract strong cultivators willingly. After all, who would give up their vitality and talent freely? And capturing someone powerful enough to meet their standards? That was a costly endeavor, both in resources and manpower. High-ranking Awakened were not easily subdued, and the backlash from attempting to enslave them often outweighed the benefits.

But then, they made a discovery that changed everything. A horrifying revelation that paved the way for their current practices.

What if every person carried within them a rare, universal type of mana? A form of energy so potent, so versatile, that it could mimic the effects of high-ranking mana?

This wasn't theoretical. It was a fact. This special mana existed, hidden deep within every individual's core. It wasn't tied to their cultivated strength or external power—it was innate, a part of their very essence. In some ways, it was comparable to stem cells from my previous world. Just as stem cells could transform into any type of cell within the body, this primordial mana could amplify cultivation techniques, heal damaged cores, or even create breakthroughs when harnessed.

For females, this mana naturally aligned with Yin energy, pure and cold like a perfect stillness. For males, it resonated with Yang energy, burning bright and hot, a force of creation.

But like stem cells, this mana wasn't infinite. It was finite, and delicate, and once used, it couldn't be replaced. It was this mana, this precious essence, that played a critical role in determining someone's talent, their potential. It was what separated the prodigies from the average, the extraordinary from the mundane.

The Cloud Heavens Sect had discovered this secret. And rather than see it as a sacred part of life, they saw it as a resource—a means to fuel their own greed.

'They figured out how to extract it,' I thought, my stomach twisting at the memory of the novel's revelations. They found ways to rip this primordial mana out of individuals, leaving them hollow, stripped of their potential. For a female, it meant their Yin energy was shattered, their cores left unstable and prone to failure.

For a male, the results were even worse. Without their Yang energy, their vitality faded, their bodies wasting away until only a husk remained.

But this wasn't just about any mana. It was about pure mana, the kind found most abundantly in children. Children, whose cores were untouched by cultivation, whose innate potential was at its peak. Their primordial mana was like embryonic stem cells—rare, potent, and invaluable.

That's why the sect targeted orphans, street kids, and the abandoned. They didn't just use these children; they consumed them. They became living furnaces, forced to channel their primordial mana until there was nothing left.

The method they used—it was something I tried not to dwell on, something that churned my stomach the moment the details surfaced in the novel. But it was impossible to ignore, not when the reality of it was so vile, so repugnant. They extracted the primordial mana from these children through their reproductive fluids. The implications alone were horrifying enough, and the method… I clenched my fists tightly, my knuckles whitening as the memory clawed at me.

The Cloud Heavens Sect didn't just exploit the innocent—they violated them, stripping them of everything sacred. And the scene… I could still recall the moment it was described in the novel, even though I wished I couldn't.

It was brief, just a few paragraphs in the story, but it painted a picture that burned itself into my mind. A young boy, no older than ten, trembling in a dark chamber, his tears mixing with the blood staining the cold stone floor. His hollow eyes stared forward, devoid of life, devoid of hope, as the sect's "practitioners" forced him to endure unspeakable acts to extract the mana they desired.

I stopped myself there, my thoughts skidding to a halt before they could delve deeper into the memory. No, I wouldn't relive that. I couldn't. My grip on my estoc tightened further, the rage in my chest boiling to a point where it threatened to consume me.

'That is why…..Everyone will know….And I will bury your sect to the ground…. '

Whether you have your ambitions or not.

It doesn't matter what your convictions are.

In this world, children are innocent.

I lifted my gaze, locking onto Lira's widened eyes. For all her bravado, for all the strength she believed she possessed, there was fear in her now. A flicker of something she couldn't control, something she couldn't hide. Good. Let her feel it. Let her feel a fraction of what she's caused.

"How many, Lira?" My voice cut through the air, sharp and cold. The cheers of the crowd faded into the background, drowned out by the intensity of the moment. "How many children did you use to stand where you are now?"

Her eyes flickered, her composure cracking as she took a small step back. I pressed forward, my voice unwavering, my gaze unrelenting.

"Twenty? Forty?" I tilted my head, my tone softening in mock contemplation. "Eighty?" I took another step, my grip on my estoc firm as the weight of my words hung between us. "Do you even know? Do you even care?"

Lira's lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Her breath hitched, her confidence faltering under the weight of my accusations. And still, I didn't let up.

"What do you think they felt, Lira?" I asked, my voice lower now, colder. "When they were dragged into your sect's chambers? When they were subjected to that 'treatment' you all so callously call 'necessary?'"

The arena was silent now. The crowd, unaware of the full truth but sensing the shift in atmosphere, watched with bated breath. But I wasn't speaking to them. This wasn't for their benefit. This was for her.

"Do you think they felt gratitude?" I continued, my voice dripping with disdain. "Relief? Do you think they felt honored to have their futures ripped away to fuel your ambitions?"

Her hand trembled on her sword, her eyes darting to the crowd as if searching for something—an anchor, an escape. But there was none. Not here. Not now.

"They felt fear," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut through steel. "They felt pain, despair, and betrayal. They were children, Lira. Children who should have had the chance to live, to grow, to become something more. And you—you and your sect—took that from them."

I took one final step, my eyes boring into hers. "So tell me, Lira Vaelan. How does it feel to stand on a mountain of broken lives and call yourself a prodigy?"

The weight of my words crashed down on her, her expression twisting into something I couldn't quite define. Fear? Shame? Anger? Perhaps all of them. But I didn't care. Whatever she felt, it wasn't enough to atone for what she'd done.

And it never would be.

Lira's voice trembled as she spoke, her composure slipping further with each word. "I… I don't know what you're talking about," she said, forcing a defiant tone that failed to mask the fear flickering in her eyes.

Her denial was almost laughable. Almost.

A slow smile crept across my face—not the playful smirk I usually wore, but something darker, colder, born of pure enjoyment. "Oh, really?" I said, my tone dripping with mockery. "You don't know, do you?"

I raised my estoc, the blade gleaming in the sunlight, and took a step closer, my voice carrying across the arena. "Then let me jog your memory, Silent Thunder. What about the chambers in Mistveil City? Ring any bells?"

The crowd stirred, murmurs rippling through the stands as the name of the city echoed in the air.

"Still nothing?" I continued, feigning disappointment. "Then perhaps the Twilight Accord Act might jog your memory. Or should I spell it out for you? Your precious sect's little cover for siphoning funds and resources to support... extracurricular activities."

The murmurs grew louder, the audience exchanging glances, whispers of confusion and suspicion spreading like wildfire.

"And if that doesn't ring a bell…" I let the words hang in the air for a moment, savoring the rising tension, "…how about your partnership with the Thornshroud Gang? Surely you know them—the ones who supply your sect with the children you use as living furnaces."

Gasps erupted from the crowd, the murmurs turning into outright shock and disbelief.

Lira's face had gone pale, her hand trembling on the hilt of her sword. "Y-you're lying," she stammered, her voice faltering. "You're just trying to slander the sect!"

"Oh, slander?" I replied, chuckling softly. "Is that what this is?" I spread my arms wide, gesturing to the stunned audience. "I'm not the one with chambers hidden in Mistveil. I'm not the one signing off on the Twilight Accord. And I'm certainly not the one making deals with Thornshroud."

The tension in the arena reached a fever pitch, and then, from the stands, a voice rang out—sharp, commanding, filled with anger.

"ENOUGH!"

And it appeared that someone finally was no longer able to contain their feelings.

Chapter 267: True Face (2)

"ENOUGH!"

I didn't need to turn to know who it was. Elder Xue. One of the prominent figures of the Cloud Heavens Sect, seated among the spectators as an esteemed guest. Her presence here was no coincidence.

The crowd fell silent as Elder Xue stood, her expression a mask of fury and barely concealed panic. "These are baseless accusations!" she shouted, her voice amplified by a subtle spell. "Lies meant to tarnish the name of our noble sect! This is nothing more than the ramblings of a desperate man trying to discredit his betters."

I turned my gaze to her, my smirk widening. "Oh, Elder Xue," I said, my tone light, almost amused. "I was wondering when you'd step in. After all, you've got so much at stake here, don't you?"

Her glare was murderous, her hands clenched into fists. "You will cease this slander at once, or—"

"Or what?" I interrupted, my voice cutting through hers. "You'll silence me? Right here, in front of everyone? Go ahead. Prove my point."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of the crowd's stares pressing down on her. She couldn't act—not here, not now, with so many eyes watching.

"And let me remind you," I continued, my voice sharp and unwavering, "I didn't name your sect out of thin air. I've seen the records. I've seen the evidence. And if anyone doubts me…" I gestured to the audience, my smirk turning into a cold grin. "…I'm more than happy to share."

The murmurs among the crowd grew louder, the seeds of doubt firmly planted. I could see it in their faces—the questions, the unease, the suspicion. The Cloud Heavens Sect's reputation was crumbling, and there was nothing Elder Xue or Lira could do to stop it.

"Now," I said, turning my gaze back to Lira, my tone ice-cold. "Do you still want to play this game, or are you ready to admit the truth?"

The tension in the arena was palpable. Lira's face was pale, her lips pressed together in a tight line as her gaze flickered toward Elder Xue. She wasn't going to admit it. Of course not. The truth was too damning, too destructive to her image and her sect's already fragile facade.

I watched her carefully, my senses extending outward, attuned to the slightest change in the air. That's when I felt it—a faint ripple, subtle yet unmistakable. Mana, raw and unrefined, drifting through the atmosphere. It wasn't bound to any element, not fire, wind, or earth. Just pure, unadulterated mana.

I tensed, my instincts flaring as I recognized the signature.

'Sound Transmission,' I realized, my eyes narrowing. It was the same technique I'd used countless times with Vitaliara. The flow of raw mana, the distinct pattern it formed—it was undeniable. Someone was communicating directly with Lira, bypassing the physical realm entirely.

My gaze flickered to Elder Xue, whose expression remained calm, but I wasn't fooled. Her fingers twitched ever so slightly, a telltale sign of subtle mana manipulation. She wasn't speaking, but she didn't need to. She was transmitting.

'Heh… so that's how you want to play it, huh?' I thought to myself, a dark amusement bubbling within me. Elder Xue couldn't let this stand. Now that I'd exposed the sect's secrets—at least enough to plant the seeds of doubt—she had no choice. I had become a liability, one they couldn't afford to leave alive.

And she was ordering Lira to take care of it.

I chuckled softly under my breath, my hand resting lightly on the hilt of my estoc. 'Kill me now? Or at least injure me, break my momentum? Desperate times, desperate measures.'

Lira's posture stiffened, her grip tightening on her sword as she raised her head, her eyes locking onto mine. Her hesitation was gone, replaced by something sharper, colder. A new resolve, though not her own.

'So that's how it is.'

The game had shifted, but it wasn't unexpected. I had been waiting for this moment, knowing that the Cloud Heavens Sect wouldn't let my accusations go unchallenged. Elder Xue wasn't going to dirty her own hands—not with so many witnesses—but Lira? Lira was the perfect pawn.

"Trying to find your courage now, Lira?" I asked, my voice calm, taunting. "Or is someone else lending it to you?"

Her eyes widened for a split second, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. She knew I'd caught on. But she said nothing, her lips tightening as she lifted her blade, her mana flaring once more.

The crowd was oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, their cheers and murmurs drowning out the silent exchange taking place between us. But I could feel it—the raw, unspoken intent hanging in the air.

'You think you can silence me here?' I thought, my smirk widening. 'Let me put a good show now.'

*******

The weight of Elder Xue's command pressed down on Lira like a blade poised at her throat. She stood frozen for a heartbeat, her body trembling under the unrelenting scrutiny of Lucavion's smirk. His words echoed in her mind, cutting deeper than she cared to admit.

He knew too much.

Mistveil. The Twilight Accord. The Thornshroud Gang.

Her mind raced, frantically searching for an explanation. How does he know? The information he revealed wasn't just damaging—it was damning. Knowledge like that wasn't something an outsider could stumble upon. It was guarded, buried deep within the sect's inner workings. And yet, this man, this worm, had laid it all bare.

'This isn't possible,' she thought, her chest tightening. But the cold, calculating voice of Elder Xue rang in her mind once more, cutting through her panic.

"End this. Now. Leave no trace."

Her heart sank at the unspoken weight of those words. There would be no room for hesitation, no opportunity to redeem her failure. Lucavion wasn't just an opponent anymore; he was a threat—a threat to the sect, to its legacy, to her.

Lira's fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade, her knuckles whitening. Her decision was made. Slowly, she reached into the folds of her robe, her movement subtle, and retrieved a small, dark pill. She bit down on it silently, feeling the bitter powder dissolve in her mouth. The forbidden energy surged through her veins like a wildfire, her core igniting with raw power.

Her breathing steadied, her focus sharpening. She straightened her posture, letting the world believe she had been holding back all along. Her body exuded an almost palpable pressure as her mana flared, crackling around her like a storm unleashed.

'Fine,' she thought, her gaze locking onto Lucavion. 'If that's what you want, then I'll give you everything. Even if it costs me.'

Her voice rang out, loud and resolute. "I didn't want to reveal my full strength," she said, her tone steady and regal, meant for the crowd as much as for Lucavion. "But it seems you've left me no choice."

The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement surging at the prospect of witnessing her supposed hidden strength. They didn't know. They didn't need to know. All they cared about was the spectacle.

Lucavion's smirk widened, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied her. "Oh? Is this the part where the prodigy unveils her trump card? Let me guess—'I was only pretending to struggle'?"

She didn't respond, channeling her energy into her blade. The forbidden pill was taking effect, enhancing her physical and mana reserves, but at a cost. Her veins burned as the potent concoction forced her body to operate far beyond its natural limits. She would pay for this later, but right now, later didn't matter.

With a single step, she launched herself forward, her blade cutting through the air with blinding speed. Her strikes came in waves, faster and sharper than before, each infused with the heightened power coursing through her body.

"Tempest Fang!" she roared, her blade shimmering with a whirlwind of mana. The strike was followed by a cascade of techniques—Spiraling Wind's Edge, Gale Dance Form, and Heavenly Sky Rend—each executed with precision and ferocity.

Lucavion moved.

Effortlessly.

His estoc deflected her strikes with the same maddening efficiency as before, his movements precise and minimal. He didn't counterattack. He didn't need to. His stance was steady, his expression calm, as if her newfound strength was nothing more than a breeze against an unyielding wall.

"That all you've got?" he taunted, his voice laced with mockery. "What happened to this 'hidden strength' of yours? Or is it just more bluster?"

Lira's fury boiled over, her attacks growing more desperate. The forbidden pill fueled her, pushing her body to its limits, but still, she couldn't touch him. Her strikes carved through the air, the ground beneath them trembling with the force of her blows, but every attempt was met with that infuriating estoc, deflecting her with effortless grace.

She gritted her teeth, her breath ragged. Her voice rose above the din of the crowd. "You think this is over? You think I'll fall to someone like you?"

Lucavion's smirk turned icy, his gaze piercing. "I don't think you'll fall," he said, his voice dropping low. "I know it. Because no matter how much you take, no matter how much you steal, you'll never understand what it means to earn strength. You're just a hollow shell, filled with the echoes of others."

Her vision blurred, her body trembling from the strain of the forbidden pill. She had never faced resistance like this—never faced someone who didn't crumble before her overwhelming presence.

'Why won't he fall?' she thought, despair creeping into her mind. 'Why can't I break through?'

It was never enough.

Chapter 268: True Face (3)

Lucavion's movements slowed, his estoc held casually at his side, as if even the effort to keep it raised was unnecessary. He glanced at Lira, who stood trembling, her blade quivering in her grip as the effects of the forbidden pill began to gnaw at her body. Then, with an unsettling calm, he turned his gaze to the crowd.

"Tell me something," Lucavion said, his voice cutting through the arena like a blade, amplified not by magic but by sheer conviction. "How does the Cloud Heavens Sect always seem to produce so many 3-star and 4-star disciples?"

The crowd murmured, the question hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

"And yet," he continued, gesturing lazily toward Lira, "their techniques… they lack refinement. Their strikes lack purpose. They swing as if strength alone is enough to win. How do you explain that?"

The murmurs grew louder, rippling through the audience as curious glances and hushed exchanges spread like wildfire.

"Or perhaps," Lucavion said, his tone growing sharper, "you've noticed other things? Little things. Like how the Cloud Heavens Sect disciples, with all their supposed 'discipline,' are seen wandering the red-light district every night of this tournament. How does a sect so focused on 'purity' and 'control' reconcile that?"

SWOOSH!

Lira slashed, trying to shut him down.

'Shut up!'

Lucavion sidestepped Lira's strike effortlessly, the sharp edge of her blade slicing through empty air. His expression didn't change; his eyes were calm and mocking as he looked at her, not as a warrior but as something beneath his notice.

"Did I strike a nerve?" he asked, his voice loud and casual, carrying effortlessly over the arena. The crowd murmured, a mix of shock and intrigue rippling through them.

"Shut up!" Lira shouted, her voice trembling with rage. She channeled more mana into her blade, the air around it crackling with energy as she unleashed another technique. A torrent of wind burst forth from her blade, a cutting storm of mana aimed straight at Lucavion.

He didn't flinch. He didn't dodge. His estoc flicked upward with a calculated, almost lazy movement, and the storm dissolved in an instant, its force dissipating harmlessly into the air. The crowd gasped, stunned into silence by the ease of his deflection.

"Impressive showmanship," Lucavion said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But that's all it is, isn't it? A show. No substance. No control."

Lira's grip tightened on her sword, her knuckles white as she gritted her teeth. The forbidden pill coursing through her veins gave her strength nearing a 5-star Awakened, a power she had never felt before, yet it felt meaningless. Every strike, every technique was countered effortlessly. It was like fighting an unmovable wall, one that didn't even seem to notice her existence.

With a scream of frustration, she launched another attack, channeling her sect's signature technique. "Cyclone Rend!" she cried, the air around her blade compressing into a spiraling mass of destructive wind. She slashed forward, the cyclone roaring toward Lucavion with devastating force.

He moved again, stepping into the attack rather than away. His estoc danced, precise and deliberate, striking at the core of the cyclone. In an instant, the spiraling wind unraveled, the technique collapsing into harmless gusts. Lucavion stepped out unscathed, his smirk widening.

"Is this really the strength of the Cloud Heavens Sect?" he asked, turning his gaze to the audience once more. "How do they reach such heights, I wonder? Certainly not through skill. Certainly not through discipline. So what's their secret?"

Lira's heart pounded in her chest as she charged again, her blade flashing through the air in a flurry of strikes. She used everything—every technique, every ounce of mana—but it didn't matter. Lucavion's estoc deflected every blow, his movements never faltering. He wasn't even using mana beyond a 2-star capacity, yet her attacks couldn't touch him.

"You seem desperate," he remarked, his voice infuriatingly calm. "Is it because you're running out of tricks? Or is it because you know the poison won't save you now?"

Lira froze mid-strike, her eyes widening. "W-what?" she stammered, her voice barely audible.

Lucavion chuckled, stepping back to give her space. "Oh, did you think I didn't know? The poison you put in my food, the poison you used on the Silver Flame Sect disciples in the quarterfinals—it's all so predictable. You thought it would give you the edge, didn't you?"

The crowd's murmurs turned to gasps, the accusations hanging heavy in the air. Lira's face paled, her hand trembling on the hilt of her blade.

"I got rid of it," Lucavion said, his smirk sharp as a blade. "Did you think I'd let something so petty stop me? Poison, pressure on the inns, underhanded deals—it's all you know, isn't it? The only way the Cloud Heavens Sect stays relevant is through manipulation and deceit."

"Shut up!" Lira screamed, her voice cracking as she swung her blade with all her might. Her mana flared wildly, her strikes growing more desperate and erratic. But it was useless. Lucavion's estoc moved like a shadow, deflecting every attack with an ease that only deepened her despair.

On the other hand, Lucavion continued his display.

"Did anyone notice how strange the quarterfinals were? How did the Silver Flame Sect's disciples move slower than usual, how did their strikes lack power and precision? Didn't that seem… odd?"

Gasps rippled through the stands, and a few spectators nodded hesitantly, their expressions shifting from confusion to suspicion.

"Why would that happen?" Lucavion pressed, his tone mocking yet razor-sharp. "Could it be… poison? Could it be that the Cloud Heavens Sect, so desperate to maintain their image, resorts to underhanded tactics to secure victory? Because I can tell you right now, they poisoned me before this match."

The murmurs turned into a full-blown uproar, the audience's shock and disbelief filling the air like a storm. Lira's face paled further, her lips trembling as she shook her head vehemently. "No! That's not true! You're just trying to—"

"Enough," Lucavion snapped, his voice silencing her like a thunderclap. He pointed his estoc toward her, his gaze cold. "Your sect's lies run deep, Lira Vaelan. You might be able to fool some people, but not me. And certainly not the audience here."

He turned back to the crowd, his voice booming with accusation. "You've all heard of the pressure the Cloud Heavens Sect puts on others, haven't you? How they manipulate and bully those who can't defend themselves? Even here, in Andelheim, they've shown their true colors. They pressured the innkeepers to deny me a place to rest before the fight."

Gasps filled the arena, and all eyes turned toward the section where Marquis Ventor and the other dignitaries sat. The murmurs turned to shouts of indignation, and Lucavion wasn't done yet.

"But don't take my word for it," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "Why don't we ask Madam Iron Matron? Madam, didn't Elder Xue herself come to you to demand you refuse me a room?"

All eyes turned toward a woman seated near the dignitaries—a broad-shouldered, no-nonsense figure with a presence as unyielding as the steel she was named for. Mariel Farlon, the Iron Matron, rose slowly, her expression grim.

"Yes," she said, her voice carrying over the noise like a hammer striking an anvil. "That's true. Elder Xue came to me personally, threatening my business if I dared to offer Lucavion a place to stay."

The arena exploded with outrage, the audience's fury directed squarely at Elder Xue. The elder's face twisted into a mask of barely restrained rage, her hands clenching tightly as she rose to her feet.

"Enough of this!" she shouted, her voice amplified by mana. "These are baseless accusations meant to tarnish the name of the Cloud Heavens Sect! This man is a liar and a troublemaker!"

Lucavion tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Baseless? Oh, Elder Xue, I'd say they're anything but. And it seems the crowd agrees."

The audience's cheers for Lira had turned into jeers, their faith in the sect crumbling under the weight of Lucavion's words. Elder Xue's expression darkened further, her fingers twitching as if she might act despite the consequences.

Lucavion turned to Lira.

"You've never earned anything," he said, his voice growing colder. "Your strength isn't your own. Your sect's success isn't its own. You've built your empire on lies, on the suffering of others. And now, when faced with someone who sees through it, you crumble."

Lira's vision blurred as the forbidden pill began to take its toll, her body trembling from the strain. Her strikes faltered, her movements growing sluggish as Lucavion stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers.

"This is the best you can do?" he asked, his voice cutting through her like a blade. "With all your stolen strength, with all the lives your sect has destroyed, this is it?"

Her blade slipped from her hands, clattering to the ground. She fell to her knees, her body shaking as Lucavion loomed over her, his presence an unshakable weight.

"You thought the forbidden pill would save you," he said, his voice low and cold. "But you're just proving my point. Without your tricks, without your lies, you're nothing. Just another hollow shell pretending to be strong."

The crowd erupted into chaos, their voices a mixture of outrage and disbelief. Lira's vision swam as Lucavion turned to face the audience, his voice rising above the din.

"This is the Cloud Heavens Sect!" he declared, his words sharp and unrelenting. "This is the truth behind their power. Lies, manipulation, and deceit. But today, the world sees them for what they truly are."

Chapter 269: True Face (4)

Lira knelt on the cold, unyielding ground of the arena, her blade lying useless at her side. Her body trembled, wracked with exhaustion, the forbidden pill's toll gnawing at her strength. The crowd's jeers, the weight of their disbelief, pressed down on her like a suffocating wave.

'Where did it go all wrong?' she thought, her vision swimming as her gaze flicked from the dirt beneath her knees to Lucavion, standing above her with that infuriating smirk. 'Why is this happening? How dare he…?'

Her thoughts spiraled, latching onto the one unshakable truth she had believed all her life: she was superior. She was chosen. The world had always bent to her will. The Cloud Heavens Sect had always stood above the rest. Her talent, her rank, her strength—none of it had ever been questioned. Not until now.

'How dare a bastard like him, a filthy commoner who has only ever been worthy of licking my boots, look at me like this? How dare he speak to me like this?' Her nails dug into her palms, blood welling from the pressure. Her chest burned, her heart pounding furiously against her ribs.

The crowd's roar grew louder, a cacophony of anger and disbelief directed at her. The world felt like it had turned against her like the very foundation of her reality was crumbling beneath her feet.

'Why? Why does the world feel like it's against me? Why does nothing I do work? No matter how much I strike, no matter how much power I use, it's never enough. What… what is this?'

Her breaths came fast and shallow as a new, unfamiliar sensation twisted in her chest. A feeling she had never known, not once in her carefully cultivated life.

Helplessness.

And something worse.

Desperation.

It coiled around her like a vice, choking her pride, her confidence, and everything she had ever known about herself. She had always been above others, always untouchable. Yet now, she was the one on the ground, staring up at someone who should have been insignificant. Someone who, by all rights, shouldn't even be here.

Her teeth clenched, and her gaze burned as it locked onto Lucavion. 'What did I do to deserve this? What is it? What is this feeling, like the entire world is slipping away from me?'

Her anger flared, burning through the helplessness like wildfire. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand that the world return to the way it had been. Her nails dug deeper into her palms, her knuckles white as her fury surged.

'I am Lira Vaelan of the Cloud Heavens Sect!' she screamed inwardly. 'I am the Silent Thunder! I am the strongest among my peers, the one destined to rise above them all! How dare this… this worm, this nothing, humiliate me? How dare he make me feel this way?'

Her vision blurred with tears of frustration as her trembling hands reached for her blade. She wouldn't let it end like this. She couldn't. Not here. Not now.

Lucavion's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, calm and cutting as ever. "What's the matter, Lira? Feeling something unfamiliar? A little helpless, maybe? A little desperate?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and wild. The gray flames in his pitch-black pupils flickered coldly, his smirk deepening as he stared her down.

"You're not used to this, are you?" he continued, his tone laced with mockery. "The feeling that no matter what you do, it's never enough. That no matter how hard you try, someone stronger, someone better, will stand in your way."

"Shut up!" she snarled, her voice cracking as she gripped her blade with shaking hands. "You don't know anything about me! About what I've done, what I've sacrificed!"

Lucavion tilted his head, his expression growing colder. "Sacrificed? You don't even know the meaning of the word. You've lived your life taking what isn't yours, climbing on the backs of those who couldn't fight back. And now, for the first time, you're the one who's powerless. How does it feel, Lira? How does it feel to be the one on your knees?"

Her body shook as his words cut deeper than any blade. Her fury boiled over, hot and blinding, but it was laced with something she couldn't deny. A seed of doubt. A crack in the facade she had built around herself.

Her voice trembled as she screamed, her desperation spilling out like a flood. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Lira's breathing was ragged, her chest heaving as her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade. This was it. She had no choice but to put everything into her final attack—the one technique she had been forbidden to use because her body hadn't been strong enough to endure it. But with the forbidden pill coursing through her veins, pushing her far beyond her natural limits, she could finally summon the strength necessary.

Her voice rang out, steady but laced with fury, as she called the name of her ultimate technique.

"Heaven's Wrath: Cyclone Expanse!"

The moment she invoked it, the air around her shifted. The atmosphere grew heavy, the wind howling with a ferocity that drowned out the murmurs of the crowd. Overhead, the sky darkened, clouds swirling as if summoned by her mana. The arena quaked beneath her feet, dust rising as the sheer power of the technique began to manifest.

Lucavion stood motionless, his smirk fading as his gaze lifted to the churning sky. For the first time, a flicker of acknowledgment passed through his eyes.

"Finally," he murmured, licking his lips as a faint, cold smile returned to his face. "A display at least worthy of a semi-final. Such a pity it came this late."

Lira's blade glowed with an intense, radiant light as the vortex of wind formed around her, growing larger and larger with every passing second. The clouds surged, crackling with energy as if nature itself had been called to her aid. Her mana poured into the technique, every ounce of strength she had left channeling into the deadly storm.

With a scream of pure determination, she unleashed it.

A massive cyclone of razor-sharp wind surged forward, tearing through the air like a force of nature unleashed. The vortex roared, its destructive energy heading straight for Lucavion, promising to obliterate everything in its path.

Lucavion's expression hardened. He stepped forward, his estoc held firmly in one hand. The aura around him shifted, dark and ominous as if the air itself recoiled from his presence.

"Watch," he said, his voice calm yet commanding, carrying over the roar of the storm.

As the cyclone bore down on him, Lucavion's estoc glowed faintly with a shadowy, black-gray hue. With a flick of his wrist, the air around him rippled, forming a perfect ring of shadowy energy. The crowd gasped as the ring expanded outward, encompassing him in an eerie, pulsating aura.

"Annihilation Sword: Null Space," he intoned, his voice reverberating across the arena.

The cyclone collided with the ring of energy—and stopped.

For a moment, the vortex seemed to hesitate, its immense power meeting an unmovable force. Then, the sound came:

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

The winds, once so fierce and unstoppable, were sliced apart, disintegrating the moment they touched the edge of the Null Space. The audience watched in stunned silence as the massive storm was reduced to nothingness, its energy obliterated piece by piece.

Lucavion moved within the Null Space with breathtaking precision. His estoc blurred, slicing through the remnants of the cyclone with surgical accuracy. Each strike dissolved another piece of the attack, the shadowy energy surrounding his blade guiding the destruction.

Lira's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched her strongest attack vanish before her very eyes. The arena fell silent, the sheer impossibility of what had just occurred leaving the crowd breathless.

Lucavion stepped forward, the shadowy aura around him fading into stillness. His blade hung loosely at his side, his calm, unyielding gaze locking onto Lira.

"It's over," he said, his tone as cold as the void he had summoned. "Your strength, your techniques, your ambitions—all of it is nothing."

Lira staggered back, her body trembling as the forbidden pill's effects began to wane. Her blade slipped from her hands, clattering to the ground as she fell to her knees. The weight of her defeat pressed down on her like a crushing tide, her mind racing with questions she couldn't answer.

Lucavion turned his gaze to the crowd, his voice rising as he addressed them once more. "This is the truth of the Cloud Heavens Sect," he declared, his words sharp and cutting. "Power built on lies. Techniques with no substance. And strength that crumbles under the weight of its own corruption."

The audience erupted, their cheers and boos mixing into a cacophony of sound. But Lucavion ignored them, his eyes fixed on Lira as she knelt in the dirt, her once-unshakable confidence shattered.

He moved towards her, with steady steps.

"This," he said, his voice low and final, "is where your arrogance ends."

PITU!

And finished with a spit on her face.

"Pathetic."

And then left the arena.