The cheers of the arena still echoed faintly behind Arin as he left through the stone gate, following the shadows stretching long across the courtyard.
The sun had dipped low; streaks of crimson and violet painted the sky like sword strokes across a fading canvas.
Arin paused once he reached the quiet path leading back to the outer disciples' quarters. The moment he stood alone, the trembling inside his muscles came again—this time sharper, vibrating up his spine like an echoing chime.
He exhaled slowly.
"That match drained more than I thought," he murmured.
His voice sounded steady, but his body… his body knew the truth.
The Fourth Link had been stressed past its intended limit.
He had pushed the Moon-Forged Body far harder than the manual recommended.
But he had done it because he couldn't afford weakness—not at this stage.
The courtyard lamps ignited one by one, lantern light pooling in shimmering circles. A few disciples walked past him, whispering with awe and confusion as they recognized him.
"That's him… Arin, the one from the sixty-fourth ring."
"Did you see how he moved? Like he wasn't even human."
"He disappeared—no, burst forward. Speed like that isn't normal."
Arin didn't react.
Their words drifted past him like wind rustling leaves.
Once he reached his lodging—a simple wooden hut on the far side of the disciples' row—he pushed open the door, stepped inside, and shut it firmly behind him.
The silence hit him like a wave.
Only then did he let out a long, slow breath.
"…I almost overdid it."
He walked to the center of the room, sat cross-legged, and let his hands rest on his knees. Moonlight—soft, silver, unassuming—spilled through the window, painting his figure in pale luminance.
Arin closed his eyes.
The trembling in his body intensified.
His breath came uneven.
His heartbeat thundered loud enough that he felt it in his fingertips.
And yet—
He smiled faintly.
"So… the breakthrough is coming."
The Storm Within
He inhaled.
Qi surged through him from all directions, spiraling through meridians, blood vessels, even bone marrow. The sensation was chaotic, almost violent.
This wasn't normal cultivation.
This was the threshold.
Rank 1, Stage 3.
The point where every human awakens their innate element.
The disciples who failed to awaken theirs would remain ordinary cultivators forever, stuck in mediocre paths.
But Arin…
Arin felt something different.
Something ancient.
Something powerful.
His Dantian pulsed—an expanding vortex of force. The Fourth Link of the Moon-Forged Body technique trembled like a taut bowstring.
Moon-Pulse Resonance… almost overflowing.
The pressure built until his teeth clenched from the strain.
His skin glowed faintly.
His veins illuminated from within—thin lines of shining silver threading beneath the surface of his flesh like liquid metal.
Arin opened his eyes—and the world flickered.
Just a blink, yet the room shifted ever so slightly.
Teleportation.
Uncontrolled.
Instinctive.
His body trembled.
"So it's happening…"
He centered his breathing, drawing slow circles of Qi through the Dantian. But as he guided it, the resonance between Dantian and heartbeat strengthened—deep, powerful, rhythmic.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Each pulse was a drumbeat shaking through his veins.
Then—
The energy surged upward like a tidal wave.
Arin gasped sharply—
And everything changed.
Awakening: Silver-Light Element
First, there was light.
Silver light—not white, not gold, not blue—silvery, luminous, ethereal.
It erupted from his chest in a soft glow, expanding outward until the entire room was filled with shimmering radiance. Dust motes danced within the beam like drifting stars.
Next came pressure.
An overwhelming density of Qi pressed outward from him in all directions, rattling wood beams, making the lantern sway violently.
His vision sharpened to unnatural clarity.
His hearing extended outward, catching footsteps of disciples on distant walkways.
His breath grew smooth and cold—yet comforting.
And then—
Pain.
Sharp.
White-hot.
Tearing through muscle, bone, and blood.
He clenched his fists, nails cutting into his palms as he hunched over.
Liquid silver surged through his veins, coating them in luminous energy. His bones vibrated, growing denser, sharper, more refined.
The Fourth Link—Moon-Pulse Resonance—locked perfectly into place.
His heartbeat fused with his Dantian's rhythm, synchronizing like two drums striking in perfect unison. A soft hum echoed in his ears.
Then—
He felt it.
A presence.
A core.
A seed of power.
A newly awakened element.
Silver-Light Element.
The mutated evolution of the Light element—thirty times stronger, far more mysterious.
A power unheard of in the Righteous Sky Sect.
Arin inhaled softly.
"…So this is what was inside me."
He raised his hand. Silver energy formed at his fingertips, swirling like smoke and starlight combined. Its glow held weight—physical, heavy—as though light itself had mass.
He flicked his wrist.
Silver light shot forward, slicing the air with a faint shhhk, leaving a narrow scorch mark on the wooden wall.
He stared at his hand in disbelief.
In raw destruction alone—it surpassed anything a Rank 1 cultivator should possess.
"Strong… too strong," he whispered. "No wonder my body trembles. I wasn't ready for this."
But he wasn't finished.
A sudden dizziness struck him.
His vision blurred—and for a heartbeat he felt weightless.
He blinked—
And found himself standing two meters away from where he had sat.
A cool, almost electric sensation rippled down his spine.
"…the teleportation."
Two meters.
The base range.
And with each stage…
+2 meters.
And each realm…
+10 meters.
He exhaled deeply.
"This will become terrifying later."
But more than destructive power or teleportation—Arin felt something else.
Regeneration.
His muscles pulsed, relieving strain.
Fatigue dissolved slowly.
A torn callus on his palm closed before his eyes.
The bruising from the earlier match lightened.
It wasn't instant healing—but it was rapid.
Efficient.
Dangerous.
Unfair.
Arin stared down at his trembling hands, almost laughing.
"This… This is better than I imagined."
He sat again, letting the Silver-Light Qi settle into circulation.
The trembling lessened.
His heartbeat steadied.
The glow around him dimmed to a faint aura.
Rank 1, Stage 3.
He had crossed the threshold.
Reflections in the Quiet
The moon climbed high outside the window, casting pale beams across the floor. Arin leaned against the wall, gazing at the sky through the open shutters.
His thoughts drifted.
Power isn't everything.
I need control… or I'll lose myself.
Silver-Light Qi… if I misuse it, it could tear my own body apart.
He closed his eyes, focusing inward.
His meridians had widened.
His bones felt heavier.
His Dantian spun faster, stronger.
His senses sharpened to a frightening degree.
He could even feel the faint movement of a moth flapping outside the hut.
"…This is going to change the tournament."
He didn't say it proudly.
He said it like a fact.
A truth he needed to accept calmly.
He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees.
"I should rest…"
But he knew he wouldn't.
Breakthroughs came with clarity—full, sharp awareness that made sleep impossible.
So he stood.
And he trained.
Night Training
Arin stepped outside into the courtyard behind the huts. The cool night air brushed against his skin; grass rustled softly beneath his feet.
He inhaled deeply.
Silver Qi flowed naturally with his breath—the technique worked effortlessly now.
He entered the first stance of his sword form.
The Silent Crescent Step.
Each movement drew a faint trail of silver behind his limbs.
He swung, pivoted, slashed, thrust.
The training session extended for hours, his body moving fluidly, almost too fluidly—like the Silver Qi wanted motion.
When he flickered forward using teleportation and reappeared behind a tree, he laughed quietly.
This ability…
"It will be hard to fight me now."
Yet humility grounded him.
Hard doesn't mean impossible.
There were geniuses in this sect.
Monsters hiding under gentle expressions.
Talents whose names shook the rankings.
He couldn't be arrogant.
Not yet.
He continued training until the horizon slowly brightened.
Warm orange hues crept through the mountains.
The sun began to rise—
And Arin exhaled slowly, chest steady, heartbeat calm.
"I'm ready.
The arena gates opened, disciples flooding inside in waves.
Whispers erupted immediately.
"Arin's here!"
"He disappeared last night—was he training again?"
"That aura… he feels different."
"I can't sense his cultivation clearly…"
"He looks… stronger."
Arin walked with calm steps, hood drawn over his head, but disciples still recognized him. His posture was different now—firmer, steadier. His steps left faint ripples of light on the ground before fading.
Two outer court instructors stopped mid-conversation as he passed.
"…That's no normal Rank 1 aura."
"It's too dense. Too stable. It's like a stage higher."
"Did he break through overnight?"
"Impossible—unless he has monstrous talent."
Arin kept walking.
The elders stood on the high platform overlooking the field.
Elder Lishen narrowed his eyes.
"…His Qi circulation pattern has changed."
Elder Miaro nodded slowly.
"And there is a faint radiance around him. Subtle… but incredibly refined."
Elder Soren's jaw clenched.
"That boy… he has awakened his element."
Lishen's gaze sharpened.
"Already? At Rank 1 Stage 3? And so clean? No signs of instability?"
Miaro folded his arms, voice low.
"That is no ordinary awakening. Look closely—the light around him bends. That means it has weight."
Elder Soren whispered:
"…A mutated element? How rare."
Lishen muttered, half in awe:
"Righteous Sky Sect has birthed a terrifying seedling."
Before the Match Begins
A crowd gathered near the ring as Arin approached.
Dozens of disciples whispered loudly enough to be heard.
"Look, look! He's glowing faintly!"
"No way—that's his element awakening!"
"He wasn't in the tournament for days because he didn't have matches… and he used that time to break through!"
"That's insane."
"Will he win today?"
Arin ignored them.
He stepped onto the arena's marble floor.
The announcer raised his voice.
"Third Round of the Outer Court Tournament—prepare for the next match!"
His opponent hadn't arrived yet.
Arin stood alone on his side of the field, breathing calmly.
A few disciples dared to approach him from the sidelines.
One of them—nervous, trembling—managed to speak.
"Arin… i-is it true? Did you break through?"
Arin turned slowly, meeting the boy's eyes.
"Yes."
The disciples gasped collectively.
Another boy stepped forward, blurting out rapidly:
"W-What stage?! You look… glowing… different… stronger… almost scary!"
Arin paused, thinking.
"Rank 1… Stage 3."
The group recoiled like they had been struck.
"Stage THREE?! Overnight?!"
"What kind of monster…?!"
"That's impossible!"
But Arin didn't correct them.
For him, this wasn't pride.
It was simply truth.
One disciple leaned in, whispering nervously:
"You're not human, are you?"
Arin smirked faintly.
"I'm very human. Just… persistent."
The disciples burst into chatter again.
Above, elders exchanged glances.
"This round will shake the sect," Miaro said.
"Only if his opponent survives long enough to make it interesting," Lishen replied dryly.
Elder Soren chuckled in disagreement.
"Oh, there will be interest. Just look at the crowd."
The stadium was boiling with anticipation.
Then—
The announcer raised his hand.
"Next match—beginning in one minute!"
The opposite gate creaked open.
A tall figure stepped out.
His aura was calm. Controlled.
Strong enough that the crowd parted around him.
A whisper rippled outward:
"…That's Drevin."
Rank 1 Stage 4
One of the Top 20.
Arin turned his head slightly—eyes sharpening.
Drevin smirked.
"So… you're the boy who's shaking the sect."
Arin replied calmly:
"We'll see who shakes who."
Drevin laughed, loud and confident.
"Oh, we will. I hope you're ready."
Arin's body loosened, his breath settling into silent rhythm.
Silver light shimmered faintly around him like a soft aura.
The announcer raised his arm.
"Combatants—prepare!"
Arin shifted his stance.
Drevin drew his blade.
The arena fell silent—
Only the wind whispered.
The announcer's voice boomed:
"Begin—"
To be continued…