CHAPTER 61: CHAPTER 61: SHAURYA VS ALL MALE DISCIPLES, INTENSE TRAINING

The Main Hall of the sect was wrapped in silence, heavy and suffocating. The towering pillars carved with dragons and phoenixes seemed to lean in, listening to the storm of emotions rippling among the disciples and elders. Murmurs of disbelief flickered through the crowd like sparks. Eyes widened, brows furrowed, mouths hung open. Confusion and shock stained every face.

At the center, Shaurya stood motionless, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and curiosity. His sharp eyes scanned the hall, flickering with uncertainty. Beside him, the City Lord’s face was unreadable—perplexed yet restrained. And opposite them, Tian Long stood tall, his golden robes gleaming under the dim light of the lanterns, a bright, knowing smile carved across his face.

Shaurya tilted his head slightly, breaking the silence with a question that echoed through the hall.

"Sect and clan competition? What is this? Didn’t the Fifty-City Disciples Tournament used to be the greatest event of this kingdom?"

Tian Long threw his head back and laughed, the sound rolling across the marble floor like a booming drum. His voice carried a magnetic authority.

"Ah, yes, it was. But not anymore. From this day forward, there will be something far greater—an event beyond anything you have ever witnessed. Not only sects but also every family clan will have the right to participate. Every city of this kingdom, even the top ten cities that never lowered themselves to compete in the Fifty-City Tournament... will join. That means all sixty cities, all sects, and all family clans. Everyone!"

A wave of shock rippled through the hall. The disciples gasped. The elders exchanged astonished glances.

Shaurya’s eyes widened in disbelief. His lips parted as a spark of excitement crept into his tone.

"This... sounds truly epic."

Tian Long’s laughter thundered again, rich and full of amusement.

"Of course it will be super epic! We will build a grand stadium just for this tournament, a coliseum where the entire kingdom will gather to witness the clash of the greatest talents."

Shaurya frowned slightly, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"So... when will this grand tournament take place?"

Tian Long’s smile deepened, his voice laced with certainty.

"One year from now. You will be notified. I sincerely hope you and your sect will attend."

Shaurya’s lips curled upward into a grin. He let out a soft chuckle, reached into his storage ring, and with effortless flair, slipped on his black sunglasses. Tilting his head up, he flashed a killer smile.

"Attend? Not only will we attend... we will win the tournament."

Confidence radiated from his words, pouring into the hearts of his disciples. One by one, their eyes lit with determination, their lips curving into proud smiles. The atmosphere shifted—from uncertainty to unshakable resolve.

Tian Long studied their expressions, his own smile widening.

"Hahahahaha! Interesting. You truly are fascinating. Very well, I shall wait to see just what your sect can accomplish. Best of luck in the Grand Sect-Clan Tournament."

With a booming laugh, he turned on his heels and strode away. The City Lord followed closely, bowing once toward Shaurya before departing. Guards Hee Ta and Hee La flanked them as they vanished into the distance.

Shaurya watched their backs until they disappeared beyond the golden doors of the hall. He drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. His voice, though soft, carried weight.

"Grand Sect-Clan Tournament..."

Lin Shu, her graceful steps light as falling petals, approached him. Her eyes, sharp yet tender, searched his face.

"So? What do you think about this?"

Shaurya turned his head toward her, his sunglasses reflecting the light. A bright, confident smile broke across his lips.

"What else? Winning the tournament."

At his words, Wang Tian and Luo Chen stretched their shoulders, muscles tightening in anticipation. Xiao Rui rolled his neck, veins popping lightly. Lee Bie, Cheng Fang, Lu Fang, Sheng Lu, Zong Bu—all of them bristled with energy, flames of fighting spirit burning in their eyes.

Shaurya’s voice rang out like a battle horn.

"Everyone! We will not only win this tournament—we will dominate it! Do you understand?"

The hall shook with their unified roar.

"Yes, Master!"

Shaurya’s smile widened. "Good. Then practice harder. Double your training. Sharpen yourselves until not even the heavens can stop you!"

Their voices thundered once again. "Yes, Master!" Determination gleamed in their eyes like unsheathed swords.

Shaurya’s gaze shifted to Cheng Fang. His tone turned commanding.

"Cheng Fang—you possess the Immortal Sword Body. From this day forward, you will train entirely under Elder Feng Yu for the whole year. Anyone else who wishes to master the way of the sword may also learn from Elder Feng Yu."

The disciples bowed in unison. Elder Feng Yu stepped forward, his eyes sharp as cold steel. His voice cut like a blade.

"Cheng Fang, prepare yourself."

A shiver raced down Cheng Fang’s spine. He bowed deeply, his heart thundering with both fear and excitement.

Suddenly, Shaurya frowned, remembering something.

"Wait. Where is Shen Hang?"

From the crowd emerged a young man of about twenty-one years. His black hair was tied into a short ponytail, his yellow pupils glowing faintly under the torchlight. His muscular frame radiated raw strength despite his modest height of five-foot-six. He stepped forward, bowed respectfully, and greeted,

"Master."

Shaurya’s eyes gleamed. With a flick of his hand, he summoned a weapon from his storage ring. A spear emerged—five feet of raw, destructive majesty. Gasps echoed through the hall.

The weapon was alive with power. The spearhead was a cruel, gleaming blade, forged from the tooth of a true dragon. Its burnished bronze surface glowed with threads of crimson and gold, as though the beast’s blood still pulsed within. The shaft, forged from dragon bone, was jet black, a golden dragon coiling around it in intricate engravings. It radiated a terrifying spiritual energy that made the very air tremble.

Everyone froze, their jaws slack, their hearts pounding in awe.

Shaurya stepped forward and placed the spear into Shen Hang’s hands. His voice was firm yet kind.

"This is an immortal-level, low-grade spiritual weapon—the Dragon Spear. It carries the essence of a dragon itself."

Shen Hang’s breath caught. His hands trembled as he stared at the weapon, reverence etched across his face. His eyes misted with gratitude. He dropped to his knees, bowing deeply.

"Thank you very much, Master. I swear I will not let you down."

Shaurya chuckled warmly. "Good, good. Now go, train hard, and make me proud."

The disciples bowed once more and dispersed to their duties, determination fueling their every step. Shaurya stretched his arms, ready to dismiss the day—when suddenly—

Ding...

The familiar chime echoed in his mind. A system window shimmered before his eyes.

Legendary Level Mission Unleashed: Dominate and Win the Grand Sect-Clan Tournament without losing a single match.

Rewards:

1. 200 Dharma Points.

2. Rare pill recipes.

3. Mastery of Divine Fire.

Punishment:

One major level drop.

Shaurya’s eyes sparkled, his lips curling into an eager grin.

"Whoa... such generous rewards! Hah! A punishment too? I don’t care. My disciples will surely dominate the tournament."

A crimson flame flickered to life in his palm, licking at his fingers without consuming them. Shaurya gazed at it with burning ambition.

"This flame... Divine Fire. A special flame that requires no spiritual energy. I can wield it already, but not to its fullest. With victory in this tournament, I’ll achieve complete mastery. Good. Very good."

He paused, narrowing his eyes as a thought struck him.

"Wait, System."

The window popped up instantly.

What now, Host?

"At the beginning, when I first arrived in this world, you allowed me to level up using Dharma Points and Experience. But I’ve noticed something—you no longer give me experience points, nor do you suggest leveling with Dharma Points. Why?"

Hehe... good question, Host. You finally noticed.

Shaurya’s face darkened, his voice rising.

"What do you mean ’finally noticed’? Do you take me for a fool?"

The system chuckled mockingly.

That was a newbie feature—available only when you first entered this world. It existed to help you survive the early stages. But now? You are strong enough to stand on your own. Why would you cry over such a small feature? Do something by yourself, Host.

Shaurya’s jaw tightened.

"Cry? Who is crying?! I was merely curious, that’s all!"

The system playfully displayed a tongue-out emoji, teasing him further.

Shaurya trembled with restrained fury. His fists clenched, veins bulging. At last, he exhaled sharply and muttered,

"Fine. But remember this—I won’t forget your mockery."

He dismissed the system and strode out into the training grounds. The cool night wind brushed against his face, carrying the scent of pine and fresh earth. Torches burned along the stone walls, their flames dancing in the twilight.

Grabbing a wooden staff from the weapon rack, he twirled it effortlessly and leapt into the center of the vast training field. His eyes gleamed with challenge.

"Every male disciple—prepare yourselves. We’re holding a battle royale. Use everything you’ve got. I want to see what you can do!"

Gasps rippled through the ranks. The disciples exchanged anxious glances. Then, without a word, the female disciples and elders calmly stepped aside, retreating to the courtyard.

The training ground was left with Shaurya and 420 nervous male disciples. Their faces turned pale, jaws dropping in despair.

Xiao Rui clenched his fists, forcing courage into his trembling voice.

"If we want a chance, we must attack together—with a plan!"

Lee Bie nodded gravely.

"Yes, perhaps that way we can at least give Master a decent fight."

But before they could act, Wang Tian and Luo Chen grabbed them both and hurled them toward Shaurya.

"Show us your plan then!" Wang Tian smirked.

"Yeah, let’s see how great it is!" Luo Chen added with a grin.

Xiao Rui and Lee Bie screamed in panic as they flew forward. Midair, they steadied themselves and launched twin punches at Shaurya.

But in the blink of an eye—Shaurya was gone.

He reappeared between them, spinning his staff. Crack! The blows landed simultaneously on their sides, sending both flying out of the arena.

The ground shook as disciples charged from every direction. Dust rose, blades gleamed, spiritual energy lit the field. And thus began the storm.

The disciples’ roars thundered as they charged. Shaurya stood calm in the eye of the storm, his wooden staff whirling in his hands like a tempest.

Cheng Fang and Zong Bu struck from behind, blades gleaming. But just as their swords slashed through the air, Shaurya’s form blurred and vanished. Their strikes met only empty wind.

In the next instant, Shaurya reappeared on the ground, his staff spinning so fast it became a blur of wood and wind. Wang Tian and Luo Chen lunged at him from the front, while dozens of disciples swarmed in unison.

"Come!" Shaurya’s grin widened. He launched himself forward, staff spinning like a hurricane. Each swing cracked against armor, ribs, or weapons, sending disciples flying into the dust. He interwove punches and kicks seamlessly into his movements, striking with devastating precision.

Boom! Thud! Crack!

The sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed through the training ground, mingled with the disciples’ cries of shock.

A shadow loomed overhead—Shen Hang descended from above, Dragon Spear in hand. The spear radiated crimson-gold light, its dragon aura roaring like thunder as it pierced the air.

Shaurya’s eyes flashed. With a swift step back, he dodged the strike. The spear gouged into the ground, cracking the earth like fragile glass.

Before Shen Hang could recover, Shaurya’s foot whipped out, a crushing kick landing in his abdomen. Shen Hang’s breath exploded from his lungs as he was hurled backward.

Sheng Lu appeared behind Shaurya, his arms outstretched to restrain him. But the instant his hands closed, Shaurya’s figure shimmered and vanished. Sheng Lu’s eyes widened.

Above him—Shaurya descended, flipping midair, his staff striking like lightning against the back of Sheng Lu’s head. Thud! Sheng Lu collapsed.

"Master is everywhere at once..." gasped a disciple, his voice trembling with awe and terror.

Cheng Fang soared upward, his sword shimmering with cold light. He slashed down with lethal force. But Shaurya spun in midair, staff whipping in a defensive arc. Sparks flew as blade met wood. Then—Whack! The staff slammed into the back of Cheng Fang’s skull, sending him crashing to the ground.

Disciples surged upward in unison, filling the sky like a tide of blades and fists.

Shaurya hurled his staff. It spun wildly like a storm-tossed fan, knocking disciples aside as if they were paper dolls.

"Ultimate Sword Slash!" Lu Fang roared. His sword unleashed a blinding crescent of energy, cutting toward the spinning staff.

But just as the sword energy was about to collide, the wooden staff twisted midair, redirecting itself. With a sharp crack, it struck Lu Fang’s back from behind.

His eyes bulged in shock. "Impossible—!"

Shaurya landed in front of him, his palm glowing with golden light. With a thunderous strike to the chest, Lu Fang was sent skidding across the ground.

Gasps erupted. Disciples froze as they realized—the Master wasn’t even using his full strength.

"Dragon Fist!" Zong Bu roared. Golden energy erupted from his body, forming into the shape of a colossal spiritual dragon that hurtled toward Shaurya with an ear-splitting roar.

Disciples leapt back, shielding their faces from the sheer heat of the energy.

But Shaurya only smiled. He flicked his fingers.

Bang! A spark of golden energy burst forth, colliding with the dragon midair. In an instant, the massive beast shattered into fragments of spiritual light.

Before Zong Bu could react, Shaurya appeared in front of him and slammed a palm strike into his abdomen. Zong Bu spat blood as he was blasted away.

The ground trembled.

Disciples staggered, their breaths ragged, their bodies trembling.

"Stop!" Wang Tian’s voice cut through the chaos. His chest heaved, his eyes blazing with resolve. "If we keep attacking like this, we have no chance! We must combine our strength!"

The battlefield stilled. Shaurya tilted his head, intrigued. Then, with a slow clap, he chuckled.

"Good idea. Show me your true power."

Hope flickered in the disciples’ eyes. One by one, they channeled their energy toward Wang Tian and Luo Chen, who stood side by side. Their fists glowed, golden light coiling around them like twin suns.

Luo Chen’s teeth clenched. "Alone, we can’t withstand this much energy..."

Wang Tian smirked, his voice firm. "But together—we can."

Energy surged toward them. Flames of every color, sword intent, spiritual qi—it all converged, pouring into their joined fists. Their aura swelled until the ground itself trembled, cracks spreading like a spiderweb.

Shaurya raised his gaze toward the female disciples and elders watching anxiously at the courtyard. "You too. Contribute your energy."

Lin Shu’s eyes widened. "What if you get hurt?!" Her fists tightened with worry.

Shaurya laughed softly. "Don’t worry. I want to test my limits—and the strength of this sect. If I am injured, I will recover."

Lin Shu’s lips trembled. After a long breath, she clenched her fists, then released her spiritual energy. The elders followed, their combined power flowing into the fusion.

The golden light around Wang Tian and Luo Chen grew blinding, arcs of lightning sparking from their bodies.

Luo Chen’s voice shook. "This... this is the same attack Master used against King Ye Xuan. It’s terrifying."

Wang Tian grinned through clenched teeth. "All the better. If we can test ourselves against Master with this much power, we’ll grow stronger too."

Their roars shattered the sky.

"Sanatan Flame Sect—Fusion Fist!"

A massive golden dragon, its form blazing with endless power, surged forth like a cannon beam. The air quaked, shockwaves tearing through the ground, splitting the stone beneath their feet.

The elders’ faces paled.

"This amount of energy—" Elder Wu’s voice trembled. "Even Sect Master may not be able to stop it."

Elder Liya’s eyes widened in horror. "This fusion attack... it’s stronger than the one he used against Ye Xuan!"

Elder Feng Yu’s tone was grim. "It’s too late to stop it now."

Lin Shu’s heart pounded, her hands trembling. Her voice cracked. "He... he wants to face it head-on. Even if it injures him severely."

The golden dragon roared, ripping through the heavens.

Shaurya floated above the battlefield, calm as a mountain. His sword—the Meteorite Blade—appeared in his hand, its edge gleaming with divine light.

His eyes narrowed, a smile curling his lips. His voice rang out like a war god’s decree.

"Divine Sword Art: End of Darkness!"

His blade slashed through the air, releasing a devastating golden arc of energy. The sword light clashed against the colossal dragon, and the world itself trembled.

BOOOOOM!

The collision erupted into a storm of shockwaves, tearing apart the ground, shattering stone into fragments that hovered in the air. The mountain peak quaked violently, the sky itself rumbling.

Elders shielded disciples, fear in their eyes.

"This explosion—it will destroy everything!"

The fusion attack pressed forward. Shaurya’s slash countered. Both forces screamed, locked in cataclysmic struggle. The air warped, space itself trembling.

Then—Shaurya smiled.

He raised his sword high, channeling more power into his strike.

The collision reached its peak—then burst. A blinding white-gold explosion swallowed the battlefield. The world went silent.

The disciples’ eyes widened in horror. They shut their eyes against the burning light.

Then—silence.

Slowly, cautiously, they opened their eyes. The explosion... was gone. The battlefield, though cracked and broken, remained intact.

And there, floating above them—Shaurya.

His body radiated golden light. His pupils glowed like molten suns. A golden chakra mark blazed on his forehead. His left hand rested calmly behind his back, while his right hand hovered palm-up.

In his palm floated a glowing orb of compressed golden energy—the explosion itself, tamed and contained.

Elders froze in shock.

Elder Wan whispered, his voice trembling. "He... he contained the explosion."

Elder Liya’s lips parted in disbelief. "That orb... it’s the entire cataclysmic blast, compressed into his hand. Such control..."

Below, Luo Chen and Wang Tian collapsed to their knees, panting heavily. Their eyes were wide with awe.

Luo Chen’s voice cracked. "Master... he didn’t just withstand our attack. He stopped it—he even compressed it into nothingness."

Wang Tian, trembling, whispered, "Unbelievable. Master... is truly invincible."

The disciples and elders all stared upward, their jaws slack, their hearts pounding in reverence and awe.

Shaurya gazed down at them, golden light still shimmering around his body. His smile was calm, confident, and unshakable—like a sovereign who reigned over heaven and earth.

To be continued...