Ember, startled by the sudden turn of events whirled around, her fiery hair whipping through the air like a comet's tail. Fury and grime painted her face, contorted even further as she saw Xue Long writhing on the ground. A fleeting flicker of something akin to fear crossed her eyes, but it was quickly extinguished by the cold fire of survival."You dare!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from exertion. Her fiery aura, once a dazzling display of power, now sputtered and died, leaving behind a faint orange glow around her outstretched hands. Disarmed and weakened, Ember was a caged tiger, her fangs dulled. Atticus, however, remained a storm. He regarded her with a chilling detachment, his own body a monument to raw power. The enchantments that had dampened his abilities were shackles cast aside. Now, his skin seemed to shimmer with an unseen resilience, as if his very flesh had become enchanted armor.Fen Yifan, ever the pragmatist, saw this transformation and acted quickly. With a we
Atticus stood amidst the thundering cheers, a lone island of stoicism in a sea of roaring excitement. The cacophony of the crowd washed over him like a wave, but he felt strangely detached, as if encased in a soundproof shell. The lifting of the suppression on his cultivation base, a reward he'd yearned for, should have sparked a surge of elation. Yet, there was nothing. His power surged, a tidal wave coursing through his veins. His cultivation base, once forcefully restricted to the early stages of Spirit Gathering Realm, rocketed upwards. It breached his previous peak, barreling through the mid and late stages, finally settling at the precipice of the Perfected Spirit Gathering Realm, a mere hair's breadth from becoming a Spirit Master. The process of cultivation within the Spirit Gathering Realm was relatively straightforward, though not without its challenges. Every cultivator in this realm was destined to eventually reach the Spirit Sovereign Realm, the time frame dependent on
Atticus emerged from the coliseum, the cheers of the crowd a distant echo in his ears. He navigated the throngs of students, their excited chatter a meaningless buzz against the backdrop of his churning thoughts. His steps were mechanical, his gaze fixed on a point far beyond the bustling campus grounds. As the seconds ticked by, the light in his eyes seemed to fade further, replaced by a chilling remoteness."Atticus."The voice, laced with a hint of concern, pierced his introspective fog. He stopped abruptly, his head snapping towards the source. There, framed by the afternoon sunlight dappling through the trees, stood Xu Hua. Her usual self-assured demeanor was replaced by a flicker of unease, a subtle shift in her carefully constructed facade. "Are you okay?" she inquired softly, her voice barely above a whisper.Atticus hesitated, the question hanging heavy in the air. A simple "no" escaped his lips, a single word that spoke volumes of the turmoil within. He wasn't sure how
As Atticus, Xu Hua, and the ever-present Rocus savored their meal, the atmosphere in the Drunken Dragon shifted gears. A band of musicians, their faces obscured by the dimly lit corners, launched into a lively tune. Their instruments, however, remained unseen. The melody flowed, rich and vibrant, a testament to their ability to channel their cultivation into audible magic. Suddenly, a group of students, their faces flushed with excitement and ale, materialized at their table. Their leader, a burly young man with a shock of red hair, addressed Atticus directly."Bloodhound!" he boomed, his voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. "You're Atticus, right? The champion of the Bloodfest?"Atticus, momentarily startled by the intrusion, nodded curtly. Recognition, it seemed, was a double-edged sword."Amazing performance out there!" the redhead continued, his eyes wide with admiration. "We all saw it! You were… incredible!"A chorus of murmurs echoed his sentiment. Atticus, still a
A tremor of unease ran through Atticus, not from the approaching figures, but from the memory they stirred. The boisterous atmosphere of the tavern seemed to dim for a fleeting moment as a group of burly students lumbered towards their table. Atticus, however, remained composed. He'd faced far worse than a few boisterous students in the coliseum. He glanced at Xu Hua, a silent question in his eyes. She shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the interruption.At their head stood a man Atticus didn't recognize. He was broad-shouldered with a thick beard and a scarred face, radiating an air of gruff confidence. His gaze fell on Atticus, a flicker of recognition followed by amusement crossing his features."Well, well," the man boomed, his voice surprisingly jovial for his imposing stature. "Looks like the Bloodhound's finally decided to show his face!"Atticus met his gaze evenly. "Can I help you?" he asked politely, more curious than threatened.The man chuckled, a hearty sound that fi
The day blurred by in a flurry of activity as Atticus, Xu Hua, and Rocus made their way back to their dorm. The events of the previous night, the unexpected challenge, and the growing possibility of the tournaments, all swirled in their minds. The next morning dawned bright and crisp, the air buzzing with anticipation as they headed for the combat faculty. Today was their final taskforce training session before they began taking missions as a team.Master Wei, a wiry man with a fierce glint in his eyes and a shock of salt-and-pepper hair that defied gravity, stood before the assembled students in the echoing combat hall. The air crackled with nervous energy as the students fidgeted in their training gear, their weeks of drills and maneuvers culminating in this very moment."Today," he boomed, his voice cracking with a hint of amusement, a sound that sent a tremor of excitement through the room. Master Wei, known for his unorthodox training methods, had their full attention. He held up
Each group of four from the taskforces, their faces grim with determination, were faced simultaneously with their elite counterparts. Atticus locked eyes with the leader of the opposing team, a fiery young man with a shaved head and a cocky smirk. But beneath the bravado, a flicker of uncertainty flickered in his eyes – a tremor of recognition from Atticus's performance in the Bloodfest. It was a subtle hint, but enough to confirm his suspicions. Atticus, with his enhanced strength and honed skills, was a force to be reckoned with.A surge of confidence coursed through him. He was certain he could take on the entire team himself, even with his self-imposed handicap of not using his raw physical strength. Years of training had given him an arsenal of spells at his disposal, trump cards waiting to be unleashed.Master Wei's booming voice echoed through the hall, "Begin!"A collective roar erupted as the taskforces and the elite squad surged forward. This wasn't just a training exercise;
Atticus, a predator no longer detached but with a simmering bloodlust rising within him, cast a hungry glance across the arena. His display had silenced the initial roar of the crowd, replaced by a tense, watchful hush. The tide had indeed shifted, and the taskforce team, emboldened by their leader's prowess, pressed their advantage with renewed vigor. Ignoring the remnants of his own defeated opponents, Atticus set his sights on another group – a team led by a hulking youth clad in crimson armor, wielding a pair of massive swords that pulsed with a faint orange glow. A cruel smirk played on Atticus' lips as his fingers danced in intricate patterns, the air around him crackling with anticipation.Master Wei, a seasoned instructor who had witnessed countless battles through the years, felt a jolt of surprise course through him. He'd expected Atticus to allow his teammates to finish the fight, not wade into the fray himself. But what truly took him aback was the raw power emanating fr