The air rippled.

Reality itself seemed to hesitate.

A low hum resonated through the fractured space — as though the universe was holding its breath.

Shaurya turned slowly toward the seven elders. The world around him appeared to shimmer, bending under an invisible weight. A faint breeze whispered across the air, carrying motes of silver light that drifted like falling stardust. The remnants of shattered energy from the previous battle glowed faintly in the atmosphere, swirling like fireflies trapped in slow motion.

His golden aura shimmered along his shoulders — not blazing, but pulsing with quiet divinity. With a casual wave of his right hand, the space around him rippled again, as if existence itself awaited his command.

The elders instinctively stepped back.

The ground cracked beneath their boots.

Zhou Xian, standing behind Shaurya, staggered to his feet, blood dripping slowly from his nose. Yet, instead of falling to the ground, the crimson droplets floated upward — suspended midair — like gravity had simply forgotten its role under the sheer pressure of Shaurya's presence.

The elders exchanged glances.

Fear flickered in their eyes — but greed quickly drowned it.

They gritted their teeth, hands trembling around their weapons, but their eyes gleamed with greed and pride. Crimson spiritual light began to surge from their bodies, burning away their hesitation.

Then they moved.

They roared as one, voices shaking the world.

The earth cracked beneath their charge, and the air exploded with energy.

Spiritual pressure flared like wildfire, turning the very air crimson. Jagged fissures of red light tore across the ground, spreading like veins of molten lava. Blades sang through the air, slicing trails of heat.

But Shaurya didn't flinch.

He tilted his head slightly, calm, unbothered.

The corner of his lips curved into a faint, amused smile.

His body flowed through their attacks like wind slipping between flames. Every movement carried grace — an effortless dance between life and death. His coat fluttered as if caught in invisible waves, brushing the edges of every blade but never tearing.

Sidesteps became spins, spins became backflips — fluid and unreal, almost weightless.

It wasn't combat — it was choreography.

Dust spiraled around him.

Metal clashed.

Light fractured.

Yet Shaurya moved as though the world obeyed his rhythm alone.

Finally, he let out a soft yawn, his voice threading through the chaos like a silk ribbon.

"Are you all done?"

The mocking calm in his tone made the elders' faces twist.

They roared in fury, their auras bursting outward. The world itself seemed to burn crimson under their rage.

They lunged again.

Shaurya exhaled a single bored sigh and raised his hand.

His thumb brushed his middle finger.

Time slowed.

The world froze.

Even sound seemed to disappear.

Snap.

A pulse of golden light rippled outward. The colors of the world melted — draining away, replaced by radiant, neon brilliance.

Reality flattened.

Three dimensions folded into two — the world turning into a living painting of glowing lines and spectral hues.

Every movement became sluggish, weightless, like time itself was stuck between frames of an animation.

Shaurya walked through their attacks, brushing aside blades as if swatting dust motes. He jumped lightly, spinning in the air. Both his legs lashed out — hitting two elders simultaneously.

Their forms glitched, flickering like broken holograms. Their outlines dissolved into flickering pixels before reforming midair, collapsing in confusion.

Shaurya landed softly, both hands sliding into his pockets. His hair shimmered with golden light as he tilted his head, watching them with faint amusement.

The remaining elders screamed and lunged again.

Shaurya only glanced over his shoulder.

Snap.

Reality broke apart.

The ground folded and bent like liquid glass. Mountains, cliffs, and air warped into spiraling ladders of pixelated light.

The world was gone — replaced by a storm of floating cubes, luminous stairways, and streams of digital energy cascading through endless void.

The elders lost their footing, shouting in panic as they clutched at vanishing fragments of terrain.

Shaurya, unaffected, strolled downward along a floating staircase that shimmered gold beneath his steps — each footprint leaving ripples through the void like reflections on water.

A trembling elder shouted, "We have to maintain distance! Attack from afar!"

He raised his hand, crimson energy gathering like a miniature sun in his palm. The orb formed — dense, burning, alive — before shooting toward Shaurya with a roar that tore through space.

The comet struck.

Shaurya simply sidestepped.

The stair beneath his foot twisted, bending away from the attack.

The orb missed by inches, spiraling downward before exploding in pixelated slow motion — the blast stretching across frames like a distorted video before disintegrating into glowing fragments.

Shaurya raised one eyebrow, smiling.

"Hmm… that actually looked cool."

Snap.

The neon storm blinked away.

For a heartbeat, the world froze in silence — then color bled back in, vibrant and alive.

The elders crashed into each other, tumbling over the rocky ground, dazed and breathless. Zhou Xian blinked rapidly — his mind unable to comprehend the impossible transitions.

Rage filled the void of his confusion. He gripped his spear tight, his crimson aura bursting like a living flame.

"I'll kill you!"

Shaurya turned toward him, sliding on his sunglasses with slow, deliberate ease. The dark lenses caught the reflection of the glowing battlefield.

"Oh? Finally fighting?"

Behind him, the elders roared again, trying to strike from all sides.

Shaurya didn't even turn.

He simply stomped.

A golden wave erupted from beneath his foot — divine, radiant. The air screamed. The ground shattered like glass. The elders were hurled backward, crashing into the dirt with thunderous impact.

Shaurya sighed softly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.

"It's enough."

They lunged again.

He didn't even open his eyes.

Snap.

The world blinked — neon again.

Reality shimmered, flipped, then reformed.

Shaurya now stood calmly at the edge of a floating island surrounded by a vast, glowing ocean. The water reflected a massive silver moon, so close it seemed one could reach out and touch it.

The elders, suspended high above, suddenly dropped — falling helplessly into the water below.

Splash.

The ocean devoured them one by one.

Shaurya exhaled, glancing toward the shore.

Zhou Xian was kneeling there — pale, trembling, disbelief twisting his face. His spear lay beside him, gleaming under the moonlight.

He stared blankly.

"What… what just happened?"

Shaurya smirked. "Huh? Don't tell me that's the best you can do. Come on—"

He beckoned lazily with one hand. "Let's make this fun."

Zhou Xian roared, eyes bloodshot. He threw his spear, crimson lightning crackling across it. The weapon shot forward with blinding speed, tearing through air like a thunderbolt.

Shaurya lifted his fingers.

Snap.

His body pixelated — shimmering and transparent. The spear passed straight through him.

Zhou Xian's eyes widened in disbelief.

He tried to summon it back — but Shaurya snapped again.

Snap.

The entire world changed.

Color exploded into neon; the space around them warped from 3D to 2D. Zhou Xian found himself standing on a floating platform made of pure light, surrounded by cascading waves of spectral color.

And there — before him — Shaurya sat lazily upon a pixel throne, one leg crossed over the other, chin resting on his hand, haloed by fractal brilliance.

Zhou Xian screamed and charged. His blade cut through air, slicing nothing.

Shaurya yawned, his platform shifting out of reach as if mocking him.

Then—

Snap.

Reality inverted. The neon storm vanished, replaced by a vast, echoing void. Zhou Xian gasped — he now stood atop a violet crystal plain, endless and silent. The air shimmered with the residue of broken dimensions.

Before him stood Shaurya — calm, radiant, untouchable.

Behind him, a molten black hole swirled, devouring light itself, painting the void in hues of deep violet and gold.

Shaurya's hair fluttered. His outline glowed with divine brilliance.

For a moment, he looked like a god carved from light.

Zhou Xian's will broke.

He dropped to his knees, trembling uncontrollably. His body quivered, eyes wide with unfiltered terror.

Shaurya's smile was gentle, almost kind.

He raised his hand.

With a wink—

Snap.

The void shattered. The violet plain fractured into floating shards. Zhou Xian fell — screaming as he was swallowed by the infinite black.

Then everything went dark.

---

When his eyes opened again, Zhou Xian was kneeling on the shore, drenched in sweat and gasping. His spear lay beside him. The world had returned — silent, still, surreal.

Shaurya stood before him, hands in his pockets, smiling faintly.

"You bastard!" Zhou Xian screamed. "If you dare, fight me directly! Stop using cheap tricks!"

Shaurya laughed. "You're the one who wanted to play this way. Don't blame me."

Zhou Xian's voice broke, trembling with desperation.

"I am the Young Lord of Blood Saber Sect! The heir! How can I— how can I lose?!"

He charged again. But midair —

Shaurya raised one hand, wagging his finger with a calm smile.

Zhou Xian froze.

Confused, his eyes flickered left as Shaurya pointed lazily.

The moonlight glimmered — and from the ocean's reflection, a shadow emerged.

His eyes widened in horror. His own spear was flying back toward him.

Before he could move—

Thud.

The spear pierced clean through his forehead. Blood sprayed upward, glittering crimson beneath the moonlight. His body collapsed, limp and lifeless. The spear quivered in the sand, blood streaming down like a silent waterfall.

Shaurya sighed softly, shaking his head.

"Oh my my… dying by your own attack. What a shame."

He raised his hand one final time.

Snap.

Neon light surged outward, blinding and divine. The entire world shattered — like a mirror breaking into countless glowing shards.

White light consumed everything.

---

Outside, in the ruins of the secret realm, the Mirror of Sovereign Will began to tremble. Cracks spread across its surface, glowing faintly before—

BOOM!

It shattered completely, exploding in a storm of radiant white energy that engulfed the city.

The purple sky above rippled, then calmed.

When the light faded, members of the Sanatan Flame Sect stood among the rubble, dazed, looking around in confusion.

And there — at the center of it all — stood Shaurya.

Hands in his pockets.

Calm. Composed. Unshaken.

Above him, the corpses of the Blood Saber Sect fell slowly from the sky, landing with soft, distant splashes.

Shaurya turned, smiling lightly.

"So… how was that? I'm super cool and handsome, right?"

The disciples could only stare in stunned silence.

Their eyes wide.

Their jaws dropped.

None could find words.

For just a moment, the golden glow flickered behind Shaurya's pupils — serene, infinite — before fading back to normal.

To Be Continued...

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