The arena floor was silent as both sides stepped forward. After a brief discussion among themselves, the disciples of Fengyue and the Sun-Forging Sect emerged in unison. Before the gazes of thousands, they cupped their fists and bowed deeply toward Steward Yan.
The steward did not stir. His expression remained plain and calm, unmarked by surprise—he had stood in this position countless times before. His voice was steady, carrying to every corner of the vast stadium.
"The rules within this pocket world are not mine," he said. "They were inscribed by the World Lord's envoy himself. As such, the envoy may expel any who defy them."
His gaze swept across both teams. "There are only two laws you must heed. First—no cultivator may use an artifact that was not self-refined. Second—once a match ends, no sneak attacks are permitted."
A pause. His voice grew sharp, like a sword drawn from its sheath. "Break the first law, and you will endure thunder retribution in the Lightning Canyon and your sect gets its resources reduced by half for the next 100 years. Break the second, and your soul will be destroyed."
A wave of gasps broke through the mortal crowd. Faces blanched, bodies shivered, yet among the cultivators, calm remained. They had expected no less.
Some mortals muttered to one another, voices trembling. "Isn't that too harsh?"—"Destruction of the soul… that's worse than death!"
But Steward Yan's tone cut them short. "These punishments were decreed by the World Lord himself."
Silence spread. At those words, no one dared to protest further. To mortals and most cultivators alike, the World Lord was not merely a senior cultivator or ruler of a planet but was like the heavens itself. Questioning him was the same as defying fate.
Amid the clamor, Shen Yuan sat quietly in his seat, gaze lowered. His thoughts stirred faintly.
'The World Lord… a tyrant. His word is law. His punishments fall like the hands of a dictator.'
The thought lingered only for a breath of time before he dismissed it.
'For now, this has nothing to do with me. Can't afford to get on his bad side, his cultivation is far above mine. As long as I do not block his path, he will not notice me. Worrying now is meaningless.'
On the arena floor, both teams dropped into another deep bow. Their voices rang out, firm and unified.
"The World Lord's words are the absolute laws to us. We, disciples, shall obey."
High above, on the marble throne, the World Lord inclined his head. His eyes closed, yet the faint motion pressed like a mountain in the hearts of those who saw it. Even seasoned elders felt their breath catch for a moment.
Steward Yan realized the meaning of that movement instantly. His hands clasped together as he declared, voice ringing like a bell.
"The World Lord has given his signal. This match shall begin!"
Excitement rippled through the stands. Mortals clutched each other with trembling hands, while cultivators straightened in their seats, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
On the field, the first to move was a disciple of Fengyue. His body blurred as he stepped toward the vast black dome. The instant his hand brushed the surface of the spatial dome, his figure vanished. One by one, the others followed, their silhouettes dissolving like mist.
The Sun-Forging Sect's disciples entered as well. Each touched the dome like spatial barrier and disappeared, until the arena floor was left empty.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Within, the world seemed to shift.
It was not a cave nor an illusory formation, but a vast landmass, a continent. The earth smelled of soil and grass, somewhat of iron too, though any form of air as a whole was completely absent. Above stretched an endless azure sky, within which hung a blazing sun, its radiance indistinguishable from the outside world. Suggesting that the envoy truly had the power to make an outer-space with a sun and a world with a continent at least.
The sheer scale defied comprehension. Steward Yan's words had not been exaggerated. Even an Elysian cultivator's divine sense could not stretch across half this realm.
An Early Stage Elysian cultivator could only cover one hundred thousand kilometers, while since this was made by copying the real world, a country here too should be about at least 150,000 kilometers in diameter. While a whole continent would easily cradle a thousand such countries.
No cultivator present could deny it, the envoy's power was truly god-like.
Zhou Xiaosi stood with hands clasped behind his back, his gaze sweeping the horizon. His calm seemed unbroken yet within his pupils, faint ripples stirred.
Then his eyes narrowed.
Among the scattered figures of the Sun-Forging Sect, one man drew his gaze. He was tall and thin, his frame marked by deep lines of age. Yet his posture was straight, sharp as a sword unsheathed. His aura pressed faintly outward, heavy and restrained, like a vulture cloaked in mist.
Zhou Xiaosi's lips curved. He recognized this kind of aura—it carried that faint, near-touch to the Elysian threshold feel.
A Quasi-Elysian!
The old man felt his gaze. He turned, their eyes meeting. For a moment, silence held. Then the old man's features softened. He cupped his fists and bowed, his tone respectful.
"Liang Mang greets His Highness, the Prince of Fengyue."
Even Zhou Xiaosi's composure cracked for an instant. To see a Quasi-Elysian bowing was no small thing, especially when he himself had been mocked just days prior. A fleeting satisfaction brushed through him.
His pride quickly reasserted itself. He raised a hand slightly in return, his tone calm and faint. "Zhou Xiaosi greets Senior Liang."
Liang Mang chuckled and shook his head. His voice was steady, weathered by hundreds of years.
"Prince Zhou flatters me. In terms of cultivation and age, I am far beneath you. For you to call me senior, how could I dare accept?"
Neither team's disciples dared to interrupt. They watched in silence, breaths subdued, as the two figures faced one another.
Beyond the pocket world, uproar erupted. Screens of light shimmered high above, as the elders under the World Lord finally activated the formations revealing the interior of the pocket world to all. Mortals and disciples alike gaped as the image showed an old man bowing before the prince.
"Unbelievable! A Quasi-Elysian bowing?"
"What respect! What does it mean?"
Yet their lips didn't move and the screens revealed no words. The mouths of the two remained closed.
Inside, Zhou Xiaosi's divine sense had extended outward isolating their voices. His thoughts pressed into Liang Mang's mind.
"I can tell you have an ulterior motive. You would not have shown respect to me without a reason. Speak. What is it you wish to say?"
Liang Mang's lips twitched in a faint smirk. His reply came without pause.
"Prince Zhou's sharpness is as expected. You are correct. I do not wish to fight you. Our enemy is the same."
Zhou Xiaosi's eyes gleamed faintly. "Shen Yuan!"
"Indeed."
A taut silence hung between them. Outside, the world saw only two figures locked in quiet confrontation. Inside, divine senses flowed like a river.
Zhou Xiaosi pressed back, his will as cold as steel. "You say we share an enemy. Why should I believe in you? What do you plan, and why should I waste effort in cooperation?"
Liang Mang's aura stirred faintly, it felt as warm as the rays of the sun. His voice did not waver.
"You need not believe me now. In time, the enemy himself will force belief upon you. As for why you should cooperate… because alone, neither of us can topple him cleanly. But together…"
A dangerous glint passed through his eyes.
"…even Shen Yuan will bleed. And I, for one, want to crush the arrogance from that bastard's face."
A thin smile curved Zhou Xiaosi's lips. Interest flickered in his gaze, though his expression remained calm.
Outside, countless spectators leaned forward, confusion etched on their faces. To them, it seemed the two simply stared, unmoving.
But at a disciple seating area, a single figure watched with folded arms. His eyes, dark as the abyss, were locked on the two.
It was Shen Yuan!
No panic stirred in him. The corners of his mouth lifted faintly, a trace of amusement in his gaze. Within his chest, a vague premonition pulsed—but alongside it came an unfamiliar thrill.
"They scheme?" His voice was calm as still water. "So let them."
His eyes narrowed. A faint ripple of killing intent brushed his aura.
"Whatever it is… I will crush it sooner or later."