Master of the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo.

Envoy from the Thousand Sword Sect.

The forest itself seemed to fall silent.

Ancient trees froze mid-sway, the qi within the air coiling restlessly, as though the world instinctively understood that two forces stood facing one another—one hidden in mystery, the other blazing with Nascent Soul arrogance.

When Wang Chen and Rong Lua's gazes met—

Wrrring!

A faint, crackling sound swept across the clearing. Sparks of electricity snapped through the air, dancing like tiny lightning serpents. The leaves of the towering ancient trees trembled violently, scattering in chaotic gusts despite there being no wind.

Rong Lua stood above the grass, hands loosely clasped behind his back, looking every bit the proud young genius of a supreme sect. His presence alone made the sky feel smaller.

Wang Chen looked… ordinary. Plain. Even relaxed, leaning lightly to one side, his gaze steady.

But despite his calm facade, Wang Chen's heart trembled fiercely.

The oscillating pressure of a Nascent Soul realm brushed against his skin like a mountain passing overhead—silent, oppressive, overwhelming. His bones felt heavy, and the qi in his veins instinctively recoiled.

This fellow… is absolutely no joke.

On pure cultivation alone, Wang Chen wasn't confident he could win. Not even with his stellar growth today. But then—he remembered the Eternal Sword Dao he had recently comprehended. The moment the thought surfaced, a faint, icy calm flowed through his chest.

His breathing evened.

His heartbeat steadied.

He had his trump cards. And more importantly—he had a persona to maintain.

So on the outside, he was still the same aloof, lazy "expert" reclining beneath the sky.

Inside, however, he was a hostage negotiating with fate.

While Wang Chen studied Rong Lua, the envoy was busy doing the same.

His pupils narrowed, a faint glow flickering within as his spiritual perception probed the man before him.

Hmmm… I can't see through him at all.

What a terrifying concealment method. From every angle, he looks like an Early Foundation Building cultivator…

Rong Lua's brows furrowed.

He circled Wang Chen once with his spiritual sense.

Smooth.

Clean.

Perfectly normal.

Too perfect.

It irritated him.

A master who terrified the imperial City's powers shouldn't look so harmless.

Rong Lua forcibly calmed himself, scoffing at his own overthinking.

"Nah," he murmured inwardly. "I'm just imagining things. That Bu Fang only reached Golden Core with secret methods. Compared to me, he was trash."

His arrogance swelled like a tide.

"Even if this guy is hiding his realm… it couldn't be that exaggerated."

Yet—

A warning instinct slithered up his spine. Not fear—Rong Lua was too proud for fear—but an itch beneath his skin, a whisper telling him the man before him wasn't simple.

But arrogance was a blade that cut its owner first.

Rong Lua unconsciously licked his lips, swallowing dryly.

A thrill ran through him.

I want to fight him.

The thought crackled through him like a spark.

Nascent Soul arrogance.

Sect genius pride.

A warrior's hunger.

Rong Lua's fingers twitched slightly as he suppressed the urge to draw his sword.

Across from him, Wang Chen raised a brow lazily, internally screaming:

Why the hell is this guy drooling?! Don't tell me he's a battle maniac—!

The forest's atmosphere grew heavier… cracks of faint lightning still hissing in the air.

Just at that moment, Wang Chen's voice drifted across the clearing—calm, unhurried, yet impossibly sharp:

"A respected envoy of the Ten Thousand Sword Sect following my disciples like this… hmm. I wonder what your intentions are."

The shift in the atmosphere was immediate.

Wang Chen's previously lazy demeanor vanished.

His expression hardened.

The air thickened—dense, suffocating, as though unseen chains wrapped around the forest.

Rong Lua's heart skipped a beat.

For an instant, a chill slithered down his spine—too fast for pride to smother. His instincts screamed danger, but the arrogance of a Nascent Soul genius steadied his pulse. He forced down the tremor in his chest and replied with a cold, practiced smile.

"I've heard quite a lot about you, Master of the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo."

He raised his hand slightly, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword.

"Why not entertain me with a small spar?"

BOOM—!

The qi around Rong Lua erupted.

The fabric of the world trembled.

Colors twisted; space seemed to ripple like disturbed water.

A suffocating wave of power surged upward, tugging at heaven and earth, as though the sky itself bowed to him.

Wang Chen's pupils contracted.

Such strong qi fluctuation… he's already drawing power from the world to support his attack.

As expected of a Nascent Soul cultivator.

Internally, he was on high alert—nerves coiled like starving wolves ready to spring.

Externally?

Not even a twitch.

Wang Chen's gaze merely narrowed—not in fear, but in mild annoyance, as though someone had stepped on his shoe.

The contrast between appearance and reality made Rong Lua's eye twitch.

He sneered and spoke louder, voice booming with authority:

"You're indeed very strong, but you're only a Foundation Building cultivator."

His cloak snapped in the raging wind of his own qi.

"How could you possibly fight against me? Bow down now, and I may consider sparing your life. Otherwise—"

His eyes gleamed, sharp and cold.

"—I will show you what true terror feels like."

Wang Chen's eyelid twitched.

This guy talks exactly like a third-rate villain…

He almost sighed.

But the killing intent hidden behind Rong Lua's theatrical arrogance was real.

The envoy's words were dripping with pride, but his eyes—

Sharp, cautious, calculating—betrayed the truth.

He was wary.

Very wary.

And with good reason.

Even though Rong Lua was speaking grandly, his spiritual perception was screaming warnings at full volume. He had met countless Foundation Building cultivators—none had ever made his instincts tighten like iron shackles.

Still…

Wang Chen had to admit it internally:

Rong Lua was one of the strongest Nascent Soul cultivators he had ever faced.

Strong enough to make even the abyssal demons from the second floor pale in comparison.

This guy is really something…

A slow, dangerous smile began to pull at the corner of Wang Chen's lips.

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