The members of the Sanatan Flame Sect stood close together, shoulder to shoulder, forming a disciplined defensive formation. Their faces were tense, eyes fixed forward. The air around them shimmered faintly, a reflection of the intense energy radiating from their cores.

The sky above hung heavy with heat and silence—until the earth itself began to tremble.

Dust lifted in faint waves. Cracks slithered across the parched ground like serpents awakening from slumber.

Shaurya stepped forward, calm yet commanding. His long crimson robes swayed lightly in the growing wind. He lifted his index finger, golden energy swirling and condensing at its tip, forming a gleaming orb of concentrated spiritual power.

With a confident smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he spoke—his voice cutting through the tension like steel through silence.

"Spiritual Shoot."

A golden spiritual bullet burst forth from his fingertip, slicing through the air with a blinding streak.

It struck the ground ahead—

BOOM!

The impact split the land in a web of fractures. The earth screamed and shook violently as crimson pulses erupted from beneath, glowing like veins of molten magma. The ground heaved, trembling as if something ancient stirred beneath its surface.

Then—

the sky began to change.

Clouds twisted and darkened. The air grew cold, unnaturally so. Black mist seeped up from the fissures, coiling into the atmosphere. A deep, haunting sound—half whisper, half roar—echoed through the desolate plain.

Footsteps followed. Slow. Heavy. Countless.

Shaurya's brows furrowed slightly as he raised his head, eyes narrowing into the distance. The horizon blurred under a sudden black sandstorm, spiraling like a devouring vortex. From within that swirling darkness, shadows began to emerge—the shapes of beasts long dead.

"...Spirits," someone whispered.

They came in droves—dark, violet-tinted phantoms with burning eyes and horns curved like scythes. Their monstrous forms resembled bulls forged of smoke and hatred. The ground trembled beneath their ghostly stampede.

Around Shaurya, the sect members reacted instantly.

Blades hissed from their sheaths. Auras flared.

Elder Feng Yu gripped the hilt of his sword, his expression hard as tempered steel.

Elder Wan's silver aura flared like moonlight, his eyes sharp and unwavering.

Elder Liya drew her sword in one graceful motion, her crimson robes fluttering as she prepared for battle.

Lin Shu stepped beside Shaurya, her grip tightening around her blade. Her voice trembled slightly, not with fear but urgency.

"What do we do now? They're spirits. How will we battle them?"

Shaurya was silent for a moment—watching the approaching storm of death.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

He slipped one hand into his pocket and stepped forward, the wind tugging at his cloak.

"You don't have to worry. I will handle them."

Lin Shu's eyes widened in surprise. Then, a warm smile replaced her shock.

Behind her, the disciples lowered their weapons, one by one, the tension in their shoulders melting away.

If their Sect Master had said he would handle it—

then the matter was settled. It was law.

Shaurya halted a few paces ahead of them. He cracked his neck, the sound faintly audible even amid the howling wind.

Then, his aura shifted.

Sapphire flames burst to life around him, swirling like living dragons of blue fire. The energy distorted the air, humming with unbearable pressure.

He lifted his right hand, middle finger brushing against his thumb. His expression remained calm, but his eyes—those deep, fierce eyes—burned brighter than the inferno he commanded.

In a soft, chilling tone, he said:

"Hellfire—Maximum Extinguish."

Snap.

The sound echoed like thunder.

In the next instant, sapphire fire exploded outward—

A volcanic eruption of divine flame, roaring toward the ghostly herd.

The inferno devoured everything in its path.

The spirits howled as their forms dissolved, swallowed by the blue inferno that consumed sky and earth alike.

Even the black mist was annihilated—burned away by the purity of Shaurya's flames.

BOOM!

A second explosion followed.

The ground convulsed, shockwaves blasting outward. The entire landscape was painted in radiant sapphire, every rock and shadow illuminated by the terrifying beauty of destruction. Sparks rained like stardust.

The sect members could only watch in awe.

It was a scene of ruin and splendor—a nightmare wrapped in brilliance.

When the flames finally began to fade, Shaurya stood tall amidst the scorched plain, embers rising around him like glowing petals. He turned, a faint grin on his lips, and said casually:

"Told you… I will handle it."

He winked.

The disciples erupted in cheers. The elders allowed themselves rare smiles—relief and pride mingling with admiration.

But far away, beyond the trembling plains, the explosion had not gone unnoticed.

---

At the edge of the drought lands…

Dark mountains loomed beneath the storm-torn sky. There, the Howling Abyss Sect had arrived. The blinding sapphire explosion reflected in their widened eyes.

Every member stood frozen, jaws slack in disbelief.

Zia Bailey's eyes flickered with recognition, his voice breaking the silence.

"These flames… If I'm right—these are the Sanatan Flame Sect's Sect Master's flames!"

Yan Chen turned sharply, shock flashing across his face.

"What? Are you sure?"

Zia's expression hardened, gaze fixed on the fading glow in the distance.

"Maybe. Their Sect Master used the same kind of flames during the tournament. It's too unique to be a coincidence."

Yan Chen's lips curved into a grin.

"Then why are we waiting? Let's go!"

He shot forward, wind tearing behind him as the Howling Abyss Sect surged in pursuit.

---

Elsewhere…

At the northern ridge, another group stood watching—the Jade Phoenix Sect. Their Sect Master, Liyu Xian, stared at the glowing horizon. The sapphire light reflected in his eyes—eyes burning with fury.

He clenched his fist, his voice trembling with rage and excitement.

"Finally found you… Shaurya."

He laughed—a low, vengeful sound—and dashed forward. His disciples followed, their spiritual auras igniting as they raced toward destiny.

---

Back at the ruined plain...

Shaurya stood at the heart of the devastation, gazing down at the fractured ground. The earth beneath his feet pulsed faintly—crimson veins glowing through the cracks.

He crouched, fingers brushing the glowing fissure, and then grasped one of the veins, pulling firmly.

The ground split wider with a thunderous crack.

The crimson vein surged upward, spilling out of the earth like living energy.

Elder Wan's eyes widened in astonishment.

"Wait... this is a Spirit Vein! And its quality... it's incredible!"

Shaurya's brows lifted, a faint smirk forming.

"Seems like we got a nice treasure this time. Finally."

He stood, the wind catching his robes, the crimson light painting his face.

But then—

the vein twitched.

A faint pulse, deep and rhythmic, echoed through the earth.

The crimson glow intensified.

The ground quivered again—

louder, faster—

until a low, guttural roar erupted from beneath.

The Spirit Vein shattered.

From the cracks, something massive began to stir.

A voice—ancient, distorted—whispered through the ground,

"Who dares awaken my slumber...?"

The sect members froze.

The air turned heavy, suffocating.

Shaurya's smile faded, replaced by a rare flicker of tension.

The ground beneath him bulged—like a heartbeat.

Then—

BOOOOOOM!

A colossal eruption tore the earth apart. Crimson light blinded the sky.

From within, a gigantic, shadow-cloaked creature began to emerge, its roar shaking the heavens.

The temperature dropped. The sky bled red.

Shaurya's flames flickered wildly around him.

Shaurya stared at the fractured earth before him, the faint crimson veins pulsing with otherworldly light. His eyes narrowed as he exhaled slowly.

"I knew I can't get a treasure easily here. Now what the hell is it..."

The ground convulsed beneath his feet. A deep, thunderous roar echoed from the abyss below, shaking the entire region. Then—

a colossal shadow rose from the chasm, dragging with it the stench of age and death.

A towering, spirit-like figure emerged from the crimson mist. Its translucent body glowed faintly pale, with a long crimson beard flowing like fire. Its head was bald, smooth as stone, while two dark horns curled from its skull, dripping with black energy. There were no legs—only a swirling storm of dark mist that anchored it to the earth.

The crimson veins wrapped around its spectral body like serpents, feeding it power from the land itself.

The creature let out a deafening scream, its voice splitting the air. Waves of dark mist burst outward, engulfing the entire Sanatan Flame Sect in a suffocating shroud.

The disciples gasped, clutching their heads as unbearable pain lanced through their minds. One after another, they dropped to their knees, eyes wide with agony.

The elders froze mid-step, their bodies trembling under the crushing spiritual pressure.

Elder Feng Yu gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move. His hand gripped his sword hilt, aura flickering—

but before he could act, black chains erupted from the mist, coiling around him and the other elders, binding them in place.

Shaurya's eyes widened. His head dipped, body trembling slightly under the heavy spiritual suppression.

Above them, the demonic spirit laughed—a deep, echoing sound that made the air itself vibrate.

"Hahahahaha! Finally, after so many years, someone has come here."

Its crimson eyes gleamed with malevolent delight.

"I didn't expect you to kill all my spirits. You are truly... extraordinary."

The demon's gaze fell upon Shaurya, its mouth stretching into a wicked grin.

The dark chains tightened around Shaurya, forcing his body downward. He didn't resist—his head hung low, silent and still.

The demon extended its massive hand. From its palm, a crimson vein-like spike shot forth, cutting through the air straight toward Shaurya's chest.

The creature laughed again, sure of its victory—

but just before the spike could pierce him, Shaurya's hand shot up.

He caught it midair.

The demon's grin faltered.

Shaurya's grip tightened on the crimson spike. His teeth clenched briefly, veins standing on his forearms. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at his lips. He began to raise his head.

From his body, sapphire flames began to seep out—soft at first, then roaring to life like divine fire. The black chains around him sizzled, disintegrating into ashes one by one.

His voice was calm, low, and steady:

"Enough... I've had enough of these games. This is the third in a row... and I didn't get a single treasure."

His grip on the crimson spike tightened. The sapphire fire spread across it instantly, crawling upward toward the demon. The entire spike ignited, and through it, the flame reached the spirit's body.

The demon's eyes widened in horror. "N-No—what are you—"

Before it could finish, the sapphire flames consumed it.

The air was filled with the sound of burning spirit essence, and the demon's scream echoed across the barren plains.

The dark mist evaporated, the chains shattered, and the suffocating aura vanished.

The disciples collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, sweat streaming down their faces. Some stared blankly into the air, their souls dazed from the assault.

Shaurya stepped forward slowly. The sapphire flames surrounding him dimmed, fading into faint embers.

The demonic soul lay crumpled on the ground—its form flickering, cracked, barely holding shape.

In a trembling voice, it spoke:

"H-How... how are your flames able to burn my soul...? If you dare, then fight without it!"

Shaurya smiled faintly, cracking his knuckles as his shadow stretched across the ruined ground.

"Of course. If you want this..."

The demonic soul blinked in confusion.

And then, before it could react—

Shaurya vanished.

A split-second later, he appeared right in front of the demon, fist raised high.

The creature thought, Fool... physical attacks can't harm a spirit—

Then Shaurya's fist crashed into its face.

The impact echoed like thunder. The demon's head snapped backward as its massive body was sent flying, tumbling across the shattered ground.

Shaurya laughed, the sound fierce and alive, and dashed forward using aerial steps, his body leaving streaks of blue light behind him.

The demon flipped through the air, slamming into the dirt, rolling violently. But before it could recover, Shaurya appeared again—grabbing its face mid-flip and slamming it into the ground.

The earth split under the force, dust exploding outward.

Without pause, Shaurya seized the demon by its arm, spun it in a blurring circle like a tornado, and hurled it into the air.

The creature screamed, its body twisting helplessly as it rose. Shaurya tilted his head, cracking his neck, and looked up with a smile.

High above, the demonic soul floated, its mouth open, its consciousness fading.

What... what is going on? I feel like my soul... is being destroyed. But how...?

It began to fall—

and as it descended, Shaurya jumped.

The ground shattered beneath his feet, leaving a crater where he stood. Like a comet of golden flame, he rocketed upward.

The demon saw him coming. A weak smile spread across its face.

"I guess... it's just a dream. Yes... sure it is. I should sleep—to wake from this dream..."

Its eyes closed.

Shaurya's fist glowed with golden light—

and then, he struck.

The punch pierced through the demon's spectral body.

The explosion of light was silent, almost peaceful.

The demonic soul began to fade, piece by piece, still lost in its illusion of sleep.

But this was no dream.

It was the end.

Shaurya twisted midair, landing lightly on his feet as the remnants of the spirit dissolved into blue sparks.

He exhaled slowly, dust swirling around him.

His gaze shifted toward the horizon—

and there, through the heat haze, he saw two groups approaching.

His eyes sharpened, then softened into a genuine smile.

In the distance, the Jade Phoenix Sect was rushing toward the battlefield, led by their furious Sect Master.

And from the opposite direction, the Howling Abyss Sect was closing in fast, Yan Chen at the front, his aura blazing.

Shaurya spun midair before landing. The ground cracked under his boots, sending another shockwave outward. He dusted off his shoulder casually.

Behind him, the disciples were recovering. Some smiled in disbelief, others wept in relief. The elders stood silent, exchanging looks of pride and exhaustion.

Shaurya looked back at them and took a step forward, his expression bright and confident.

"Get ready, you all."

A bright smile spread across his face as spiritual energy began to surge from him once again—rising like a storm, like the calm before another great fire.

The wind howled across the plain. The ashes stirred.

Far away, two sects raced toward him, drawn by the light of his flames.

The drought lands were far from silent.

The real battle...

was only beginning.

To Be Continued...

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