The dust hadn't even settled, and already Wu stepped forward with a wild gleam in his eyes. His laughter burst out, loud and venomous, echoing through the arena like a whipcrack.
"How is it, Han?! On your knees like a dog! Hahaha! You're going to be our slave now!"
Han didn't lift his head.
"And don't pretend you forgot!" Wu bellowed, voice laced with malicious joy. "You agreed, didn't you?! If you won, we'd give you that precious pass into the Inner Sect—even though you're three years late! But if you lost…" Wu leaned in close, his breath hot with madness. "You'd become the slave of both of us!"
Lin stepped beside him, his usually stoic face twisted with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. The promise of domination glinted in his gaze. Together, the two looked down at Han like children taunting a wounded beast—fearless now that the lion was on the ground.
The crowd didn't cheer. Didn't boo. They only whispered, barely audible beneath the weight of fear.
"Shameless…"
"Is this even allowed?"
"But… we can't say anything. Offending Elder Lin or Elder Wu… that's suicide."
"Still, this… this is too much."
A low growl of tension filled the air, but no one moved. No one dared to stop what was unfolding.
Han's fingers twitched against the stone floor. His mind was spiraling, not because of the wounds on his body—there were none—but because of the unbearable torment crashing within him.
I lost…
No… No. It's not possible.
His heart pounded louder than the crowd's murmurs. His breathing grew shallow.
How? How did they know?!
His father's voice flashed in memory—low, grave, laced with exhaustion from years of fleeing:
"This technique, Han… you must only use it when you are cornered. Never before. They must never know you have it."
The trump card. The one card passed down by his father—a Rank 3 cultivator who had escaped a Rank 4 assassin to deliver that one final inheritance before vanishing from this world.
That card… was supposed to be unbeatable.
They were prepared.
They shouldn't have known.
Han's throat clenched. He wanted to scream, to rage at the injustice. But outside, he remained motionless. Silent. Confused. Hollow.
He didn't even feel fear when Wu and Lin approached, their hands glowing with sinister qi.
But the dread finally sank in when the mark began to form.
A soul slave imprint.
He'd studied it. Everyone had. It was outlawed in most major sects, but within private duels… if agreed upon? It could pass.
Their individual souls weren't stronger than his. That much was clear. But combined? Together?
Han's core flared weakly as he instinctively tried to resist.
But his spirit, still shaking from the backlash of the failed technique, offered no shield.
They'll do it.
They'll make me a slave.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his skin.
No. I won't let—
And then—
"STOP! You shameless people!"
The shout cut through the arena like a blade slicing through fog.
Everything froze.
The crowd, the guardian, even Wu and Lin—they all turned, breath catching in their throats, eyes pulled toward the source of the voice as if compelled by fate itself.
From beyond the haze of smoke and dust, a figure strode forward.
A woman.
Tall, elegant, her steps as smooth as flowing water, yet as precise as a blade's edge. She wore the robes of a cultivator, though they did nothing to hide the distinct feminine grace she carried with her. Not voluptuous—but well-shaped. Not imposing—but dignified. Her aura glowed soft, almost warm. And yet her eyes—those cold, judging eyes—chilled the air around her.
She looked like a divine spirit descending into mortal chaos.
No one knew who she was.
Not yet.
The arena was stunned.
Even the guardian, long unshaken by the chaos of countless battles, narrowed his eyes and took a half-step forward, gaze locked onto her.
And Han…
Han raised his eyes.
For the first time since his collapse, he looked up—and what he saw made his heart halt.
She wasn't familiar.
But somehow, the moment he saw her—something stirred.
Some young disciples whispered under their breath.
"Who… who is that?"
"She's beautiful…"
"She looks like an angel."
"Is… is this what love at first sight feels like?"
Some tried to joke to hide their awe, but the words came out thin and dry.
Others said nothing at all, too stunned by the surreal presence.
The pressure shifted. The air felt cleaner. Lighter.
Han blinked slowly, unsure if this was just another illusion his broken mind had conjured.
But then he saw Wu and Lin stop mid-movement. The imprint between them flickered—and died.
That was no illusion.
The woman hadn't said another word. She didn't need to.
Her presence alone cracked the scene apart.
And in that moment—perception began to change.
Not entirely.
Not yet.
But the seed had been planted.
One person, unafraid, had spoken up.
One voice had stood against two elders, even if they were her allies.
And though no one recognized her yet—though no one knew the gears turning behind those soft steps and distant eyes…
They all felt it.
Something was shifting.
A righteous voice had broken the silence.
And just like that—
The public's heart… began to turn.
The soul slave imprint had faded, snuffed out in an instant by a single word.
And now, silence. A suffocating, fragile silence.
Then—
"She's right…"
A whisper. Low, but firm. From the edge of the crowd.
"She's absolutely right," another voice chimed in, a young man with a clenched jaw. "This isn't justice… It's bullying."
A girl, no older than sixteen, bit her lip and looked toward Han's broken figure. "Even if Elder Han was quite arrogant… two against one? And now trying to make him a slave? That's not righteous. That's just disgusting…"
Murmurs began to ripple like waves in a pond, low and hushed at first, but growing more bold with each passing second.
"Didn't they say they only challenged him to test his strength? This was never a fair match…"
"I heard Elder Wu didn't even want to fight until Elder Lin whispered something to him… I thought something felt off!"
"Elder Han might be behind in cultivation years, but he held his own against both of them—he even injured Wu, didn't he?"
"Exactly! And now they're trying to rob him of his freedom? Just because he lost?!"
"Even if it was part of the agreement… What kind of person actually goes through with that sort of thing? It's legal, sure, but it's disgusting."
"I heard he's from the outer sect, all alone. No one to back him up. Of course they picked him as the target."
"Disgusting…"
"Shameless…"
One bolder disciple turned to another. "You remember how Elder Lin used to call himself righteous? How's this righteous?"
"Tch. All bark and no spine. Now that woman's the only one with the courage to speak up."
"I… I think I've seen her before," one murmured, squinting toward Yun's figure. "Doesn't she train near the east cliffs? They say she never talks to anyone, but everyone who's seen her says she feels… different."
Another boy, his voice almost reverent: "She's like a celestial maiden."
"Not just beautiful," a senior disciple muttered. "She's got guts. The kind we all wish we had."
"Saving someone like Elder Han… just because it's the right thing?"
"…I won't forget this."
One girl, arms crossed, nodded slowly. "I didn't care about Elder Han before. But now? I want to see what he does next."
And suddenly, the tide was shifting.
Yun still stood silently, not meeting their eyes, as if their praise meant nothing to her.
But deep inside, she could hear it.
The stirrings of admiration.
Respect.
And more importantly—
Trust.
All of it… playing perfectly into her hands.