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For a long moment, the entire arena fell silent.

Even Zhang Qiuse himself was drenched in cold sweat. That last technique had been one of his strongest. He hadn’t expected Xu Zimo to simply stand there and take it, without even moving. Yet, he couldn’t so much as scratch him.

He swallowed hard as Xu Zimo raised his hand. Instinctively, Zhang Qiuse stepped back several paces before realizing how cowardly that must have looked. His face darkened, torn between shame and anger.

“One strike,” Xu Zimo said calmly. “If you can withstand it, I’ll spare your life.”

“Stop bragging. Show me what you’ve got,” Zhang Qiuse snapped, though his tone betrayed his nerves.

Spirit energy surged wildly from his body, fire roaring beneath his skin until his entire face glowed crimson.

Below the arena, several elders turned to Bian Wenzhou.

“Lord,” one ventured cautiously, “should we intervene?”

It was obvious to everyone, Zhang Qiuse had already lost. If they didn’t step in, the humiliation would be total.

And deep down, none of them wanted Xu Zimo to win.

“A loss is a loss,” Bian Wenzhou said, narrowing his eyes. “What now? You’d rather we earn a reputation for being sore losers?”

The others fell silent instantly. No one dared to speak again.

Xu Zimo extended his right hand, and a surge of immense power gathered in his palm.

He didn’t use any technique, because his opponent wasn’t worthy of one.

It was just an ordinary palm strike, yet to Zhang Qiuse it felt as terrifying as the jaws of a beast. Every hair on his body stood on end. Under that overwhelming pressure, even breathing became difficult. His spirit energy slowed, almost freezing in place.

“Spear, Descend!” Zhang Qiuse roared, thrusting his spear forward in a desperate attempt to pierce Xu Zimo’s palm.

But before raw power, all resistance was meaningless.

A deafening boom exploded before him, and Zhang Qiuse’s body was hurled backward like a rag doll. Blood sprayed through the air in a long crimson arc before he crashed heavily to the ground.

Xu Zimo hadn’t even used his full strength. Had he done so, Zhang Qiuse would have been reduced to ash. Even so, the blow had destroyed his cultivation, his future was effectively over.

Xu Zimo was not a merciful man. Once hostility appeared between them, there was no room left for reconciliation.

Zhang Qiuse lay on the ground, blood soaking through his robes.

The onlookers gasped, rushing forward to lift him up.

“Take him away for treatment,” Bian Wenzhou ordered with a wave of his hand.

“Lord, this was supposed to be a friendly match,” the Second Elder interjected righteously. “Yet this boy nearly killed him! I say we cannot let him stay!”

Xu Zimo smiled faintly. “Old man, I barely used a fraction of my power. Seems your Black Crow disciples are just that fragile. Unless… you’d like to test me yourself?”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” the Second Elder shouted, his beard bristling with rage.

Xu Zimo sneered.

His palm shot out in the elder’s direction, a violent storm of spirit energy swirling within it. The air itself seemed to darken.

The Second Elder snorted and summoned his True Fate behind him, a colossal black crow that blotted out the sky, shrieking as it lunged toward Xu Zimo with killing intent.

Such an attack was meant to kill, not spar.

“Boring,” Xu Zimo said lazily.

His descending palm shattered everything, the deathly aura, the crow, the spirit defenses, obliterated in an instant.

The elder had no chance to react before he was smashed to the ground, coughing blood.

“Elder!” the other elders cried, leaping to their feet, faces twisted with shock and fury.

Xu Zimo’s strength had far exceeded anything they expected.

Only Bian Wenzhou remained seated, calm as ever, as if none of this surprised him.

“Enough,” Bian Wenzhou said finally. “Haven’t we lost enough face already?”

The other elders reluctantly sat back down, their expressions grim.

The Second Elder struggled to his feet, glaring at Xu Zimo with a mix of anger and fear.

“So, Black Crow Emperor,” Xu Zimo said with a faint smile, “how do you plan to announce the result?”

“Of course, you won,” Bian Wenzhou replied with a light chuckle.

Xu Zimo nodded and stepped down from the arena.

“Master Xu,” Bian Wenzhou’s voice called after him, “I think we should have a word.”

Xu Zimo hesitated briefly, then nodded.

Bian Wenzhou dismissed everyone else and led him to a courtyard where a freshly brewed pot of tea waited beneath a pavilion.

They sat across from each other at a stone table. Despite being the lord, Bian Wenzhou poured tea personally, showing no trace of arrogance.

“What do you wish to discuss?” Xu Zimo asked.

“Your marriage to Yue’er,” Bian Wenzhou said with a smile.

“You should know that’s impossible,” Xu Zimo replied, shaking his head.

“Yue’er is not worthy of you,” Bian Wenzhou sighed.

“Then let’s skip the pleasantries,” Xu Zimo said flatly. “Say what you really mean.”

Bian Wenzhou chuckled. “Have you ever heard of the Fire God Race’s place of origin?”

Xu Zimo shook his head. His knowledge of the Fire God Race was limited, only that they traced their roots back to the Ancient Fire God Zhurong.

“Our Fire God Race has always had a sacred birthplace,” Bian Wenzhou explained. “It’s said to be where our kind first emerged. For generations, it was guarded by the Radiant Court. But recently, the Court issued a decree, every fire-blooded clan member now has the right to enter the Ancestral Grounds.”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“Of course, that right is limited. We must compete for it. The Chaos Fire God Realm has been granted only thirty-two spots.”

At that, Xu Zimo understood.

“You want me to help the Black Crow Dao Court win one of those spots.”

“The original candidate was Zhang Qiuse,” Bian Wenzhou admitted with a smile. “But now that I’ve met you, I’d rather place my bet elsewhere.”

“And why,” Xu Zimo asked evenly, “would I agree to that?”

“Before today, I wasn’t sure,” Bian Wenzhou said, smiling mysteriously. “But now… someone’s given me something. She said I could trade it for your cooperation.”

Seeing Xu Zimo’s puzzled expression, Bian Wenzhou reached into his sleeve and produced a clear, transparent crystal.

The moment it appeared, Xu Zimo’s eyes locked onto it, unblinking.

“The woman told me this used to belong to you,” Bian Wenzhou said. “What do you think?”

“It was Bian Shishi who gave it to you, wasn’t it?” Xu Zimo asked, narrowing his eyes.

The instant he saw the crystal, fragments of memory inherited from the previous Infernal Lord surfaced. He knew exactly what it was.

“Deal,” Xu Zimo said, taking the crystal and tucking it away.

“One month from now, I’ll go to the Chaos Fire God Realm.”