CHAPTER 192: IMPERIAL TOURNAMENT FINALS: IGARIS VS NINE DAO CHILDREN

The moment Igaris’s voice faded, the atmosphere cracked like shattering glass.

A storm of spiritual energy surged across the coliseum as nine Dao Children launched forward, some out of pride, others out of sheer rage.

Fairy Hua’s lotuses bloomed mid-air like stars of death, raining down petals sharper than blades. Yang Huo’s flame wings burst open behind him, igniting the ground as he propelled himself like a meteor. Mu Chen raised a swirling vortex of violet poison mist, releasing thousands of venomous needles in a single breath.

The others followed with their own dazzling techniques—blades of lightning, spear shadows, and earth-rending fists.

But Igaris didn’t move.

He simply stood there, his obsidian robes undisturbed.

The attacks reached him in seconds.

And then—

Crack!

Every attack... froze.

Petals halted mid-air.

Flames dimmed.

Lightning died.

The crowd leaned forward, stunned, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.

Igaris raised one hand lazily and clenched it.

BOOM!

A ripple of dark, silvery force exploded outward like a dome, sending every Dao Child crashing back across the stage, tumbling like ragdolls.

"Wh–what just happened?" a voice trembled from the spectators.

Standing beside Evernight, Shirley watched quietly from the Spectators, her gaze full of pride.

Evernight was no better. Her prideful gaze as if saying, "This Is My Man."

Below, Igaris didn’t give them time to recover.

Phantom Shift.

In the next instant, he vanished.

He reappeared behind Fairy Hua before she could stand.

A finger touched her back.

"Collapse."

Her legs gave out. Her knees hit the stage. Her breath choked in her throat.

"Wh–why... can’t I move...?"

He didn’t respond. Instead, he vanished again.

He reappeared beside Yang Huo just as the latter tried to summon his phoenix flames once more.

Igaris gently tapped Yang’s forehead with a flick.

CRACK!

The flames turned on Yang himself, erupting like a backfiring furnace.

"AHHHH!!" he screamed, rolling across the ground, half his clothes reduced to ash.

"You can’t even control your own fire," Igaris murmured, voice calm.

Then came Mu Chen.

He charged, screaming, "DIE!!"

His palm was laced with layers of lethal toxin. One touch could kill an ordinary Martial Warrior instantly.

Igaris caught the hand mid-air.

"Too weak," he said, unimpressed.

Then squeezed.

CRUNCH!

"Ahhhh!" Mu Chen howled as his fingers shattered like glass.

Igaris leaned in, whispering, "This is for Elder Hao. But this is just prelude to what’s about to come."

After saying that he rammed his knee into Mu Chen’s stomach.

"Blurghhh!" The Poison Sect genius spat blood and flew backward, landing like a corpse.

One by one, the others tried to group up and strike.

Two swordsmen moved in tandem, spinning toward Igaris from opposite sides.

"Perfect form..." Igaris mused.

He used Gale Wings, dodging both in an instant.

Their blades struck each other instead, snapping upon impact.

He landed behind them and whispered, "But you’re too slow."

Both collapsed unconscious before they could turn around.

"Raaaghhhh!" A spear-wielder roared in desperation and brought down a thunder-infused spear.

Igaris caught it with two fingers.

CRACK!

The entire shaft shattered into splinters.

He kicked the boy in the chest so hard, the air bent. The child was flung twenty meters away, unconscious before hitting the ground.

Only three Dao Children were still standing now. All of them trembling.

Igaris dusted off his robes and walked forward, expression bored.

"This is your finest generation?" he asked aloud. "You’re nothing but overhyped brats with borrowed techniques and shallow pride."

The three remaining Dao Children tried to form a tri-circle formation, combining qi into a devastating array.

Igaris didn’t interrupt.

He let them try.

Only when the technique reached its peak did he raise his hand again.

A black sun formed behind him, its gravity pulling the array’s energy into it like a hungry beast.

Their combined move was devoured in seconds.

And with a wave of his palm—

BOOM!

An invisible force struck all three at once, sending them spiraling like broken birds.

They crashed down, eyes wide open, unable to speak. Unable to move.

Unable to even scream.

Silence.

The entire coliseum stared, breathless.

Nine Dao Children.

All collapsed.

Some trembling.

Some unconscious.

All defeated.

And Igaris hadn’t taken a single step backward.

"Oh heavens! That young man is terrifying!"

"He crushed the 9 Dao Child like it was nothing!"

"He practically bullied them!"

"But he’s their age... how can someone so young be that strong?"

"This isn’t fair at all..."

The crowd was in uproar, but the elders of the Eight Great Sects were deathly silent—faces twisted in shame, fury, and disbelief. They hadn’t just lost a battle. They had lost something far more precious: their pride, their influence, and most importantly—their chance at becoming the supreme sect of the world.

The Poison Sect’s black-robed elder ground his teeth until his gums bled.

"This won’t do," he muttered, voice cold and venomous. "Even Mu Chen couldn’t land a single blow on that brat. We need another plan. We must find a way into the Secret Realm..."

The other sects began whispering among themselves, crafting similar schemes in desperation.

Yet, amidst the storm of plotting and panic, Igaris stood still—unbothered, untouchable. His eyes slowly drifted toward the Emperor’s throne, locking eyes with the sovereign of the Blue Moon Empire.

The Emperor’s regal mask cracked ever so slightly. He glanced sideways at Yuhan, as if silently asking, Do you want to challenge him?

Yuhan paled.

Without a second thought, he raised both hands in surrender, voice trembling, "I yield! I have no intention of fighting!"

He wasn’t stupid. He had seen the depth of Igaris’ power, and unlike the others, he intended to survive.

A heavy silence blanketed the arena. The shattered pride of sects, the stunned disbelief of the crowd, and the unmatched presence of Igaris—all coalesced into a moment none would forget.

Then, a voice echoed from the judge’s platform, clear and commanding, imbued with spiritual force so it reached every ear:

"By the unanimous outcome witnessed by his Majesty and all present—"

The announcer paused, eyes sweeping across the stunned faces of elders, disciples, and nobles.

"The victor of this year’s Grand Imperial Competition is Igaris Vance, representing the Soaring Dragon Sect!"

A brilliant plume of spiritual light surged into the sky as a symbolic dragon soared overhead, conjured by formation masters to mark the champion.

Cheers erupted from the Soaring Dragon Sect’s side, led by their Sect Master who had tears shimmering in his eyes. They hadn’t just won a tournament—they had ascended in status, shaking the foundation of the Martial world.

Even the earth beneath seemed to hum in approval.

"And now," the announcer continued, "For the Champion, His Majesty the Emperor will personally bestow a Heaven Grade Martial Art, along with one million beast cores.".

And Soaring Dragon Sect’s name shall be recorded in the annals of history by its Champion."

And as the sky quieted once more, Igaris stood alone, his figure unmoving like a blade driven into the heart of the world.

Unshaken. Unmatched. Unforgotten.