As he savored the last spoonful of his meal, Arion contemplated the concept of martial levels in this world. The system had classified him as a "Martial Novice," a designation that had baffled him from the beginning. He hadn't received any martial arts techniques or training despite the years that had passed. With a sigh, he muttered to himself, "I thought being a 'Martial Novice' meant I'd at least have some basic martial skills by now. But all I have are these attributes that keep increasing." Arion knew he wasn't alone in his confusion. He had heard tales of prodigies who reached the pinnacle of martial arts and ascended to the rank of "Martial Master" in their early years. It seemed that, despite his unique circumstances, he was still at the very beginning of his journey as a martial artist. He pondered the vast hierarchy of martial levels in Nova, each one representing an awe-inspiring level of power and mastery. It was a ladder that seemed insurmountable, yet Arion couldn't de

Arion stood at the edge of the vibrant jungle, his previously pristine appearance now marred by dirt and grime. He had strategically smudged his clothes and dirtied his face to appear as if he had been wandering for days. Despite his efforts to make himself look less handsome, the inherent charm in his features still shone through the filth. Arion, a 14-year-old boy with striking features, had tousled, jet-black hair that framed his youthful face, which bore the dust and grime of his fabricated journey through the wilderness. His deep, soulful eyes, a shade of rich black, held a mixture of determination and vulnerability. Even beneath the dirt and grime, one could still discern his youthful handsomeness. He wore a simple, tattered outfit, now smudged and torn from his staged ordeal. Despite the dirt and stains, his lean frame and well-defined muscles hinted at his potential for martial prowess. Taking a deep breath, Arion began his act. He ran towards the Tiger Claw Sect, weaving th

Jude and Fleming clashed with a fury that shook the very foundations of the sect. Their strikes were lightning-fast, a blur of martial prowess and ancient techniques. Arion watched in awe as the two Martial Spirits collided, each with a burning desire for revenge. The battle between Jude and Fleming raged on, escalating to unimaginable heights. Their strikes and techniques pushed the limits of martial prowess, creating shockwaves that reverberated through the sect's surroundings. Arion watched helplessly as the two Martial Spirits clashed in a deadly dance of vengeance and power. Jude opened the exchange with the "Crimson Whirlwind Palm," a devastating technique that sent a powerful gust of energy hurtling towards Fleming. The palm strike tore through the air, leaving fiery traces in its wake. Fleming countered with the "Thunderclap Fist," a technique known for its deafening shockwaves. The impact of their attacks created a dazzling display of energy, illuminating the battleground.

Soon the familiar system interface materialized before his eyes. Among the notifications and statistics, one message stood out, glowing in an ethereal light. [Hidden Quest] - "Become a Sect Master or Establish a Sect" (Completed) Achieve the ultimate status of a Sect Master or create your own sect from scratch. Reward: You can use 10 Strikes of Peak Martial Emperor. Arion's heart raced as he read the words. The hidden quest was now marked as completed. He couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and anticipation as he considered the reward: 10 Strikes of Peak Martial Emperor. With a determined resolve, Arion decided to claim the reward. He focused on the message, his mind and spirit converging on the task at hand. However, this power didn't immediately enter his body. Instead, it was stored within the system, awaiting his command. Arion saw the newly acquired skill, converted from the 10 Strikes of Peak Martial Emperor, bearing the name "Emperor's Decimation" – a testament t

The Raindrop District, with its bustling streets and vibrant energy, was a world unto itself. Arion had chosen an inn nestled within this bustling corner of the town, a haven where he could find respite from the complexities of his newfound role as Sect Master. It was a place where life thrived in every corner, a symphony of voices and colors that painted the town's vivid tapestry. In the early mornings, Arion would step out onto the cobblestone streets, the crisp air tinged with the scent of street vendors' offerings. The market square was a vibrant kaleidoscope of sights and sounds, with traders haggling over goods, and street performers weaving their tales through dance and song. For a brief moment, he felt like a traveler, a wanderer exploring the depths of a new world. The town he found himself in proved to be an unexpected challenge. Yet, within this captivating tapestry, Arion held a singular purpose—to fulfill a system quest, one that demanded the recruitment of individuals