The arena was still buzzing from Nyx’s victory.
Whispers, awe, fear, excitement—the Heavenly Demonic Sect had become the center of gravity. Battles resumed, names were called, techniques clashed, and sect pride burned hot in the air.
Yet above it all…
Jin Valentine’s gaze shifted.
Not to the ring.
Not to the contestants.
But to the sky.
Something pierced the heavens.
A pressure descended—ancient, refined, tyrannical.
The clouds twisted.
The spiritual barrier of the Celestial Sect trembled.
An elder’s face drained of color.
“N–No… that aura…”
Another elder clenched his sleeve.
“Mitsuki Yamamoto…”
A murmur surged.
“The Hidden Dragon…” “He’s alive?” “Wasn’t he banned?” “Why is a Saint Realm cultivator here?!”
A bolt of divine lightning tore open the sky.
A figure descended within it, boots touching the arena stone with arrogant ease as the competition was forcibly interrupted.
Silver hair.
Dragon-etched robes.
Eyes like cold thunder.
Saint Realm.
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The air itself bowed.
The Celestial Sect Leader stood.
Isumi Yang.
Peak Saint Realm.
A step below Domain.
Her voice thundered.
“Mitsuki. You traitor. Haven’t I told you never to step foot in my sect again?”
Mitsuki smirked lazily.
“Oh, Isumi… don’t be like that. Wasn’t I your student once?”
He turned, gaze sweeping across the arena, then locking onto the Heavenly Demonic Sect.
“I heard the Heavenly Demonic Sect had returned. So I came.”
His lips curled.
“You remember my dream, don’t you? To join it… and become its sect leader.”
A pause.
“I wanted to train under the Demonic Master—Azrael Noctis Vael.”
For the first time since the competition began—
Jin laughed.
A soft laugh.
Amused.
Almost nostalgic.
Elder Wu quickly spoke, trying to salvage dignity.
“The Sect Leader of the Heavenly Demonic Sect is Jin Valentine.”
The name hit Mitsuki like poison.
His smile cracked.
“…Jin Valentine?”
Displeasure twisted his expression.
“So Azrael handed the throne to you? Or did you steal it, little pretender?”
Ren Kai’s eyes sharpened.
Perfect, he thought.
A Saint Realm… this will show me his depth.
Behind Jin, the Five Demons moved.
Kaelaric’s blade hummed.
Seraphine’s aura flared.
Dorian’s killing intent coiled.
Nyx’s veil stirred.
Ashura’s presence darkened.
Their stares said only one thing:
Say another word and die.
Jin raised a hand.
“Demons. Stand down.”
He rose.
No explosion of aura.
No pressure.
No spectacle.
He simply… floated.
Descending into the arena until he stood before Mitsuki.
Face to face.
Eyes to eyes.
Calm voice.
“I killed Azrael months ago. Almost a year, actually.”
A faint smile.
“He plotted against me.”
Jin tilted his head.
“So I beheaded him.”
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Mitsuki’s rage detonated.
“You—!”
He raised his hand and called upon the Lightning of Heavenly Tribulation.
Purple-gold thunder roared from the sky, a judgment meant for demons, heretics, and forbidden existences.
It struck toward Jin—
And stopped.
Mid-air.
As if the universe itself refused to touch him.
The lightning faded.
Silenced.
Erased.
Jin sighed.
He stepped forward.
Each step felt like the collapse of fate.
Mitsuki tried to move.
His body refused.
Tried to speak.
No sound came.
Fear crawled into his pupils.
Jin looked into his eyes.
And spoke softly.
“Sin of Dreams.”
Then Jin turned and floated back to his seat.
He sat.
The arena was silent.
Mitsuki Yamamoto stood frozen.
Then—
His eyes emptied.
His body dropped.
Lifeless.
Dead before hitting the stone.
A Saint Realm cultivator… erased without resistance.
Lian Yue’s face turned pale, fear gripping her heart.
Ren Kai stared, disbelief flooding his mind.
He didn’t move… he didn’t release aura… he didn’t attack…
Mitsuki died thinking he was going to become the Heavenly Demonic Sect’s leader…
And above the fallen dragon—
The Heavenly Demonic Sect sat in absolute, untouchable silence.
