Chapter 22: Dragon's Awakening, and Revenge Plots
Sanjeev, having chosen the God-level technique, "Roaring of Nine Dragons," from the Lotus Blade Sect's vast library, was eager to delve into its secrets. He unrolled the ancient scroll, its surface cool and smooth to the touch, and prepared to immerse himself in its teachings.
As he began to read, the familiar phenomenon occurred. The elegant, flowing script of the technique detached itself from the scroll and surged into his mind, imprinting itself onto his very consciousness. It was as if the technique was alive, seeking to become a part of him.
Sanjeev absorbed the information with his usual speed, marveling at the intricate diagrams and the profound explanations of energy flow. The Roaring of Nine Dragons was a devastatingly powerful attack, capable of unleashing a series of nine explosive blasts of spiritual energy, each one shaped like a roaring dragon.
However, as Sanjeev delved deeper, a problem arose. The technique, like all the others he had encountered in this world, relied on the manipulation of external spiritual energy. It required the cultivator to draw upon the ambient energy of the environment, to gather it, refine it, and then unleash it in a focused burst.
This presented a significant obstacle for Sanjeev. His cultivation method, rooted in the ancient ways of his past life, focused on the awakening and utilization of internal energy. He didn't draw upon external sources; he generated his own power from within. He was a closed system, self-sufficient and independent.
He tried to visualize himself performing the technique as it was written, but it felt... wrong. It was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. His internal energy clashed with the external energy pathways described in the scroll, creating a disharmony that prevented him from executing the technique.
Frustration welled up within Sanjeev. He had finally obtained a God-level technique, a method of unimaginable power, and yet, he couldn't use it. It was like having a key to a treasure chest, only to find that the key didn't fit the lock.
But Sanjeev was not one to be easily deterred. He was a cultivator, a seeker of knowledge, a problem-solver. He refused to accept defeat. He spent hours poring over the scroll, studying its diagrams, analyzing its principles, searching for a way to adapt it to his unique cultivation style.
He realized that the core of the problem lay in the way energy was gathered and utilized. The technique required the cultivator to first gather external energy, then channel it through specific meridians, and finally release it in a focused attack. Sanjeev needed to find a way to bypass the gathering stage and directly utilize the energy of the world.
An idea began to form in his mind, a radical concept that challenged the very foundations of cultivation in this world. What if he didn't need to gather the energy beforehand? What if he could draw upon the energy of the world at the moment of the attack, channeling it directly into the technique as he unleashed it?
It was a risky proposition. It would require an unprecedented level of control, a perfect synchronization between his internal energy and the raw power of the environment. But Sanjeev felt a surge of excitement. It was a challenge, a test of his abilities, and he was eager to try.
He began to experiment, making subtle changes to the technique, altering the flow of energy, and visualizing the direct connection to the ambient spiritual energy. He imagined himself as a conduit, a channel through which the power of the world could flow.
He practiced for days, his room filled with the echoes of his frustrated grunts and the crackling of his energy. He failed countless times, his attempts resulting in weak, sputtering bursts of power or uncontrolled surges of energy that threatened to overwhelm him.
But with each failure, he learned. He refined his control, honed his focus, and gradually, he began to make progress. He discovered that by using his divine sense, he could perceive the intricate web of spiritual energy that permeated the world, and he could tap into it with increasing precision.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he achieved a breakthrough. He stood in his room, his body trembling with anticipation, and visualized the Roaring of Nine Dragons. He channeled his internal energy, but instead of focusing on gathering external energy, he reached out to the world around him.
He felt the ambient spiritual energy respond to his will, drawn to him like iron filings to a magnet. It surged into his meridians, merging with his internal power, and then, with a mighty roar, he unleashed the technique.
Nine colossal dragons of pure energy erupted from his hands, each one a manifestation of his will, each one carrying the force of a devastating explosion. The room shook, the very air vibrating with the raw power of the attack.
Sanjeev stared at the aftermath of his technique, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes shining with triumph. He had done it. He had successfully adapted a technique of this world to his unique cultivation style. He had discovered his own method, a way to use any technique, regardless of its origin.
He realized the implications of his discovery. He could now perform any technique he knew, any technique he might learn in the future. And because he was drawing energy directly from the environment, his reserves were virtually limitless. He would never run out of power.
A wave of exhilaration washed over Sanjeev. He had overcome a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, and in doing so, he had unlocked a new level of power. He was no longer bound by the limitations of this world's cultivation methods. He had forged his own path, and that path stretched before him, filled with endless possibilities.
Meanwhile, in another part of the sect, a storm was brewing.
Miao Li, the crown princess of the Li country, was a woman accustomed to getting her way. She had grown up surrounded by luxury and privilege, her every whim catered to, her every desire fulfilled. She believed that her royal status placed her above everyone else, that she was entitled to respect, obedience, and whatever she desired.
When she had witnessed Xiner's display of talent in the library, a dark seed of jealousy had taken root in her heart. She couldn't bear the thought of someone else, especially someone from a "common" background, outshining her, receiving more attention and admiration.
She had convinced herself that Xiner's techniques, the Heaven-level methods that had so astounded everyone, rightfully belonged to her. She was a princess, after all. It was her birthright to possess the best, the most powerful techniques.
Driven by her arrogance and her burning envy, Miao Li decided to confront Xiner directly. She marched to Xiner's room, her face twisted with a mixture of anger and entitlement. She barged in without knocking, her eyes blazing with fury.
Xiner, who was meditating, opened her eyes, her expression calm and composed. She regarded Miao Li with a quiet indifference, her aura radiating a serene power that belied her youthful appearance.
"What do you want?" Xiner asked, her voice cool and steady.
Miao Li sneered. "I've come to give you an order," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Hand over all the techniques you received in the library. They belong to me."
Xiner raised an eyebrow, her expression incredulous. "And why would I do that?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement. "Why would I give you my techniques?"
Miao Li's face contorted with rage. "Because I am the crown princess of the Li country!" she spat. "This sect, and everything in it, falls under the jurisdiction of my country. You are a mere disciple, a commoner. You will obey my orders."
Xiner's eyes flashed with a cold light. "No," she said, her voice firm and unwavering. "I will not obey your orders. I will not give you my techniques. And I suggest you leave before you waste any more of my time."
Miao Li's face turned crimson with fury. She had never been spoken to like this before, never been defied so blatantly. Her sense of entitlement was shattered, her pride wounded.
"You dare to defy me?" she shrieked, her voice shrill and hysterical. "You will pay for this insolence!"
Without warning, Miao Li attacked. She unleashed a flurry of blows, her movements clumsy and uncontrolled, her power fueled by her rage. Xiner, however, was far more skilled. She moved with effortless grace, dodging Miao Li's attacks with ease, her movements fluid and precise.
Xiner, though at the same realm as Miao Li, the Svādhiṣṭhāna Flow, was far more powerful. Her control over her spiritual energy was superior, her techniques more refined, her battle instincts sharper. She could have ended the fight quickly, but she chose to prolong it, to teach Miao Li a lesson in humility.
She used a technique from her family's ancestral legacy, the "Lotus Blade." With each movement, petals of pure energy bloomed around her, their edges sharp and deadly. She moved like a dance, a whirlwind of beauty and power, her Lotus Blades deflecting Miao Li's attacks and gently, but firmly, striking back.
With a final, elegant flourish, Xiner's Lotus Blades converged, forming a single, radiant flower of energy. She directed the flower towards Miao Li's face, and with a soft, resounding crack, delivered a stinging slap.
Miao Li staggered back, her face burning with pain and humiliation. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her carefully crafted image of superiority shattered. She had been defeated, utterly and completely, by someone she considered beneath her.
"You... you..." Miao Li sputtered, unable to find the words to express her rage and shame. She turned and fled, her dignity in tatters, her heart filled with a burning desire for revenge.
Back in her room, Miao Li descended into a fit of hysterical rage. She smashed furniture, tore her clothes, and screamed until her voice was hoarse. Her carefully constructed world had crumbled, her sense of self-worth shattered.
In her despair, she did the only thing she knew how to do: she called for her brother.
The Crown Prince of the Li country, a man named Li Xuan, was as arrogant and entitled as his sister. He had been spoiled from birth, raised to believe that he was destined to rule, that everyone else existed to serve him.
When he arrived at his sister's room and saw her state, his face twisted with fury. He listened to her tearful account of the events, his anger growing with each word. He couldn't believe that someone would dare to harm his sister, a princess of the Li country.
"That... that bitch!" Li Xuan snarled, his voice a low, menacing growl. "She will pay for this. I will teach her a lesson she will never forget. No one harms my sister and gets away with it."
He vowed to avenge his sister, to crush Xiner and anyone who dared to stand in his way. He began to plot, his mind filled with dark thoughts of retribution.
Meanwhile, in his own room, Sanjeev was undergoing a transformation of his own.
After his breakthrough with the Roaring of Nine Dragons technique, Sanjeev had continued his cultivation practice, pushing his limits, seeking to unlock even greater power. He meditated for hours, guiding the Agni flame through his meridians, his consciousness expanding, his connection to the world deepening.
Suddenly, he felt a surge of energy within him, a familiar sensation that heralded a breakthrough. His spiritual energy churned, his meridians vibrated, and he felt himself rising, floating in the air.
Behind him, a radiant chakra began to form, a wheel of pure energy that pulsed with divine light. It was the sign that he was about to advance to the next realm, the Maṇipūra Radiance.
The energy within him reached a crescendo, and with a resounding boom, Sanjeev's consciousness expanded, and he was transported to a higher level of existence. He had broken through, becoming the youngest person in the history of the Lotus Blade Sect to reach the Maṇipūra Radiance realm at the age of seventeen.
When Sanjeev returned to his physical body, he felt a surge of power, a sense of clarity and control that he had never experienced before. He had reached a new level of understanding, a new stage in his cultivation journey.
Eager to explore his newfound abilities, Sanjeev delved into his memories, searching for the technique he had received upon reaching this realm. He discovered that he had gained the "Divine Eye," an extraordinary ability that enhanced his perception and understanding.
The Divine Eye granted him several incredible powers. First, it made him immune to illusions. No deception, no trickery, no matter how subtle or powerful, could fool him. He could see through any disguise, any facade, any attempt to manipulate his senses.
Second, it gave him an unparalleled ability to learn and comprehend formations and weapon refining techniques. He could learn any formation or weapon-refining method simply by observing it. If he saw someone performing a technique, or if he touched a completed formation or weapon, he could instantly understand its structure, its principles, and its creation process.
This meant that Sanjeev could not only learn any technique of formation or weapon refining, but he could also create his own, based on his newfound understanding. He was a master craftsman, a weaver of energy, a shaper of reality.
To test his new ability, Sanjeev focused his Divine Eye on his Mountain Slashing Sword, the powerful weapon he had obtained during his trials. He saw the sword with new clarity, perceiving not just its physical form, but also the intricate network of energy that flowed within it.
He saw the different materials that had been used in its forging, each one chosen for its specific properties. He saw the complex formation that had been inscribed onto its surface, enhancing its strength and channeling its power. He understood why each material had been used, why the formation had been designed in that particular way.
Sanjeev realized that with his Divine Eye, he could not only understand existing weapons and formations, but he could also create his own, surpassing even the most masterful creations of the past. He could forge weapons of unimaginable power, design formations of unparalleled complexity, and shape the world to his will.
As Sanjeev marveled at his newfound abilities, there was a frantic knock on his door. He opened it to find Xiner, her face pale, her body trembling, her clothes torn and stained with blood. She was severely injured, her once radiant aura dimmed and flickering.
"Sanjeev..." she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. Then, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into his arms, unconscious.
Chapter 23: Fury and Retribution
The sight of Xiner, broken and bleeding, ignited a fire within Sanjeev that threatened to consume him. He had seen her strong, vibrant, and full of life. Now, she lay before him, fragile and vulnerable, her life hanging by a thread. He immediately began to treat her, his hands glowing with a soft, healing light, his mind focused on mending her shattered body and soul.
For seven days, Sanjeev remained by Xiner's side, tirelessly channeling his energy, coaxing her back from the brink of oblivion. He barely ate, barely slept, his entire being consumed by the need to heal her. The room became a sanctuary, filled with the soft hum of his energy and the faint scent of healing herbs.
Finally, on the seventh day, Xiner's eyelids fluttered open. She stirred, her gaze slowly focusing on Sanjeev's face. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the exhaustion etched on his features, the unwavering determination that had kept him going.
"Sanjeev..." she whispered, her voice weak and hoarse. The word was a broken sob, a testament to the pain she had endured and the relief she felt at seeing him.
Sanjeev's heart ached as he looked at her. Her once vibrant eyes were dull, her radiant aura dimmed. He gently took her hand, his touch sending a wave of warmth through her.
"Xiner," he said, his voice filled with a tenderness that belied the turmoil within him. "You're awake. Thank the heavens."
Xiner squeezed his hand weakly, her tears flowing freely now. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her body, and she winced.
"Easy," Sanjeev said, gently helping her to adjust her position. "You've been through a lot. Just rest."
But Xiner couldn't rest. The memories of the brutal attack flooded back, the humiliation, the pain, the sheer terror of facing such overwhelming power. She had to tell Sanjeev, had to share the burden of her suffering.
With halting breaths, she recounted the events that had led to her injuries. She spoke of Miao Li's arrogance, her demand for Xiner's techniques, and Xiner's refusal. She described the brief but fierce confrontation, and then, the arrival of Li Xuan.
"After Miao Li left," Xiner said, her voice trembling, "her brother came to my room. He... he told me to apologize to his sister, to become her servant. I refused, of course. I told him I would never bow to such arrogance."
She paused, her breath catching in her throat. The memory of Li Xuan's cold, merciless eyes sent a shiver down her spine.
"He didn't take it well," she continued, her voice barely a whisper. "He... he attacked me. I tried to defend myself. I used the Lotus Blade, my family's technique, but it was useless against him. He was too strong. Too fast."
Xiner's voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands, her body wracked with sobs. Sanjeev held her close, his heart aching with a pain that mirrored her own.
"He... he took my techniques," Xiner cried, her voice muffled. "He stole them from me. And then... and then he..."
She couldn't finish the sentence. The image of Li Xuan's giving the pain, the feeling of his power crushing her, was too much to bear.
Sanjeev held her tighter, his jaw clenched, his body trembling with a rage so intense it was almost a physical force. He listened to her story, every word a knife twisting in his heart. He heard the pain in her voice, the fear in her words, the humiliation in her tears.
As Xiner spoke, the room seemed to darken. The air grew heavy, charged with a palpable energy. A storm began to brew outside, the sky turning a menacing black, the clouds swirling like a vortex of fury. It was as if the world itself was reacting to Sanjeev's anger, mirroring the tempest within his soul.
When Xiner finally finished her tale, her voice reduced to a broken whisper, Sanjeev gently pulled away from her. He looked at her, his eyes blazing with a cold, white fire.
"He did this to you," he said, his voice a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down Xiner's spine. "He dared to harm you."
Xiner looked at him, her own fear momentarily forgotten in the face of his terrifying rage. She had never seen him like this before, his calm, gentle demeanor replaced by a fury that seemed to radiate from every pore of his being.
"Sanjeev..." she began, reaching out to him, but he gently brushed her hand aside.
"Stay here," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. "Blackie will stay with you. I'm going to settle this."
Blackie, sensing the shift in Sanjeev's mood, padded silently to Xiner's side, his massive form a comforting presence. He looked at Sanjeev with intelligent, knowing eyes, as if understanding the gravity of the situation.
Sanjeev turned and strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the silent halls. The storm outside intensified, the wind howling like a banshee, the rain lashing against the windows. It was as if the heavens themselves were weeping for Xiner, raging with Sanjeev.
He made his way to the Fighting Hall, the central arena of the Lotus Blade Sect, a place where disputes were settled and strength was tested. As he walked, he began to call out Li Xuan's name, his voice a thunderous roar that carried through the sect.
"Li Xuan!" he bellowed, each syllable laced with a fury that made the very air vibrate. "Li Xuan! Come out and face me, you coward!"
His voice, amplified by his spiritual energy, echoed through the sect, causing some of the weaker disciples to tremble with fear. The sound of his rage drew the attention of everyone nearby, cultivators and elders alike. They emerged from their rooms, their faces filled with curiosity and trepidation, drawn to the source of the commotion.
Slowly, a crowd began to gather at the Fighting Hall, their whispers and murmurs filling the air. They sensed the raw power emanating from Sanjeev, the barely contained rage that threatened to erupt like a volcano.
Eventually, Miao Li and Li Xuan arrived, their faces a mixture of surprise and apprehension. Miao Li, still nursing her wounded pride and aching face, looked at Sanjeev with a flicker of fear in her eyes. Li Xuan, however, tried to maintain his arrogant facade, though a hint of unease crept into his expression.
Sanjeev saw them, his eyes locking onto Li Xuan's. The world seemed to narrow, the crowd fading into a blur, the only thing that mattered was the man who had dared to harm his wife.
Arav stepped forward, his expression grave. He had heard Sanjeev's cries and sensed the dark energy that hung in the air. He knew that something terrible had happened.
"Sanjeev," Arav said, his voice filled with concern. "What's going on? Why are you so angry?"
Sanjeev turned to Arav, his face a mask of fury. He recounted Xiner's ordeal, his voice trembling with a rage that threatened to overwhelm him. He spoke of Miao Li's arrogance, Li Xuan's brutal attack, and Xiner's stolen techniques.
As Arav listened, his own anger began to rise. He knew Xiner well, knew her strength and her gentle nature. The thought of her being so cruelly violated filled him with a righteous fury. He looked at Li Xuan and Miao Li, his eyes hardening.
For a moment, Li Xuan was taken aback by the combined rage of Sanjeev and Aarav. He saw the raw fury in their eyes, the barely contained power that threatened to erupt. He swallowed hard, a flicker of fear passing through him.
"What's it to you?" Li Xuan sneered, trying to regain his composure. "It was just a little... discipline. She needed to learn her place."
Sanjeev roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the Fighting Hall. "Discipline? You call that discipline? You left her broken and unconscious for seven days! You stole her techniques, her very essence! I will take my revenge, Li Xuan. I will avenge my wife."
Sanjeev issued a challenge, his words ringing with a deadly finality. "I challenge you to a life-and-death duel. Here, now, in front of everyone. Only one of us will walk away from this arena."
The crowd gasped, their eyes widening in shock. A life-and-death duel was the most serious challenge imaginable, a fight to the bitter end, with no rules and no mercy. It was a challenge rarely issued, and even more rarely accepted.
Li Xuan hesitated. He had expected to intimidate Sanjeev, to cow him with his royal status and his superior cultivation. But Sanjeev's rage was a force of nature, a power that brooked no opposition. He looked at the crowd, at the expectant faces, and his pride, his arrogance, his fear, all warred within him.
Finally, driven by a twisted sense of honor and a desperate need to save face, Li Xuan leaped into the fighting arena.
"I accept your challenge," he declared, his voice trembling slightly. "I will show you the consequences of defying the Li royal family."
Sanjeev stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Li Xuan. He drew his Mountain Slashing Sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light of the arena. He held it before him, his stance steady, his gaze unwavering.
"I will give you a death," Sanjeev said, his voice a low, menacing growl, "a death so horrific that your soul will recoil in terror. Your relatives will vomit at the sight of your mutilated corpse. You will beg for the sweet release of oblivion, but I will deny you even that."
His words were not mere threats; they were a promise, a vow carved in blood and fury. The crowd gasped, their faces paling, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had never heard such words spoken with such chilling conviction.
The fight began. Li Xuan, a cultivator at the Maṇipūra Radiance 4th level, held a significant advantage over Sanjeev, who was at the Maṇipūra Radiance 1st level. Three levels separated them, a gap that should have been insurmountable.
Li Xuan, confident in his superior power, launched a barrage of attacks. He unleashed a series of powerful strikes, each one aimed to cripple or kill. Sanjeev, however, moved with a speed and agility that belied his cultivation level. He dodged and weaved, his Mountain Slashing Sword deflecting Li Xuan's blows with surprising ease.
Frustrated by his inability to land a decisive blow, Li Xuan summoned his spirit beast, a ferocious tiger with razor-sharp claws and teeth. The tiger roared, its eyes glowing with a malevolent light, and charged at Sanjeev.
But Sanjeev was beyond reason, beyond fear. His anger had pushed him to a level of power he had never known before. He saw the tiger coming, its massive form a blur of muscle and fury, and he reacted with a speed that shocked everyone.
He grabbed the tiger's face, his grip like iron, and with a savage twist, he ripped the tiger's face off with his bare hands.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd. They stared in horror at the gruesome sight, the tiger's mutilated face, the blood and gore splattered across Sanjeev's hands. Many turned away, their stomachs churning, their faces pale with disgust.
Li Xuan recoiled in horror, his face turning green. He had never seen such brutality, such savagery. The sight of his beloved spirit beast being so callously destroyed shattered his confidence, his arrogance replaced by a primal fear. He began to vomit, his body heaving uncontrollably.
Miao Li, witnessing her brother's humiliation and the sheer brutality of Sanjeev's attack, felt a wave of terror wash over her. She had never imagined that Sanjeev possessed such power, such ruthlessness. She realized, with a chilling certainty, that she had underestimated him, and that she was now in grave danger.
Li Xuan, his composure shattered, desperately tried to regain control. He summoned a series of spiritual swords, their edges shimmering with deadly energy, and hurled them at Sanjeev.
Sanjeev met the swords with his Mountain Slashing Sword, each clash sending sparks flying. He moved with a speed and ferocity that overwhelmed Li Xuan, his attacks relentless, his power growing with every strike.
He then conjured a spiritual spear, a weapon of pure energy, and hurled it at Li Xuan with the force of a thunderbolt. Li Xuan, barely managing to deflect the spear, was pushed back, his face pale, his body trembling.
Sanjeev was not finished. He drew upon his innate ability, the power to manipulate his body's size, a technique unique to his ancient lineage. His body began to grow, his muscles expanding, his bones shifting, until he towered over the arena, a colossal giant of fury.
The crowd gasped, their eyes widening in disbelief. They had never seen anything like this before, a human being transforming into a giant, wielding power that defied the very laws of nature.
Sanjeev raised his massive foot, his shadow falling over Li Xuan, casting him in darkness. Li Xuan looked up, his eyes filled with terror, and tried to scramble away, but it was too late.
Sanjeev brought his foot down, the force of the impact shaking the entire arena. Li Xuan screamed, his body crushed beneath the colossal weight. The crowd recoiled, their faces contorted with horror, the sound of Li Xuan's bones snapping echoing in their ears.
Sanjeev lifted his foot, expecting to see a mangled corpse, the end of his retribution. But Li Xuan was not dead.
His legs were crushed, his body broken, but he was still alive. He was standing on his shattered legs.
Chapter 24: Wrath of a Fallen God
Li Xuan, battered, broken, and humiliated, his legs crushed beneath Sanjeev's colossal foot, refused to yield. His arrogance, his entitlement, his very life, were on the line. He clawed at the ground, his fingers digging into the shattered earth, a desperate struggle against the inevitable.
Then, a change began to ripple through him. It started as a faint tremor, a subtle shift in his spiritual energy. But it quickly escalated, growing in intensity until his entire body convulsed. The air around him crackled with power, a dark, malevolent energy that sent shivers down the spines of the onlookers.
"I... I won't lose!" Li Xuan roared, his voice distorted, inhuman. "I am a prince of the Li country! I will not be defeated by the likes of him!"
His body began to transform. His muscles bulged, his bones elongated, his features twisted into a grotesque parody of his former self. A dark, metallic armor materialized around him, encasing him from head to toe. A helm, shaped like the snarling head of a demonic beast, covered his face, obscuring his features and amplifying his voice into a guttural growl.
The transformation was complete. Li Xuan was no longer a man. He was a vessel, a conduit for a power far beyond his own. He had called upon his God Spirit.
The concept of God Spirits was not unknown in this world. Powerful cultivators could, under dire circumstances, form a pact with a divine entity, a being of immense power from a higher plane of existence. In exchange for servitude or devotion, the cultivator could borrow the god's power, gaining a temporary but significant boost in strength.
However, the power came at a cost. The cultivator's body and mind were often strained to their limits, and prolonged or excessive use could lead to permanent damage, or even complete possession by the god.
The transformation Li Xuan underwent was particularly disturbing. The energy that surrounded him was dark and chaotic, devoid of any semblance of divine grace. It was the power of a fallen god, a deity of war and destruction, a being of violence and bloodshed.
Sanjeev recognized the energy, a primal, brutal force that resonated with the darker aspects of the universe. He sensed the presence of a Chinese war god, one of the lesser deities, a being known for his cruelty and bloodthirstiness: Chi You.
Chi You was a figure of immense power, but also of low reputation among the heavenly pantheon. He was a god of chaos, war, and strife, often associated with rebellion and destruction. His power was undeniable, but his methods were brutal, and his influence was feared.
Li Xuan, now a vessel for Chi You's power, was a changed being. His speed and strength increased exponentially. He moved with a terrifying swiftness, his attacks carrying the force of a battering ram. He struck at Sanjeev with a series of devastating blows, each one capable of shattering mountains.
Sanjeev, still in his enlarged form, struggled to keep up. Li Xuan's attacks, empowered by Chi You's might, were far more potent than before. Sanjeev roared in pain as Li Xuan's strikes landed, his massive body reeling from the impact.
He knew he had to end this quickly. Li Xuan, fueled by a fallen god's power, was becoming increasingly unstable, increasingly dangerous. Sanjeev had to unleash his full power, to use the technique he had learned from the mysterious scroll: The Roar of Nine Dragons.
Sanjeev gathered his energy, focusing every ounce of his being into the technique. He visualized the nine heavenly dragons, their majestic forms, their boundless power. He remembered the feeling of the Chaos energy flowing through him, the connection to the fundamental forces of the universe.
As Sanjeev prepared to unleash the Roar of Nine Dragons, the very atmosphere began to change. The dark clouds that had gathered overhead intensified, swirling and churning with an even greater ferocity. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the arena with an eerie, flickering light.
The climate of the entire sect began to shift. The wind howled with the force of a hurricane, tearing at the buildings and trees. The temperature plummeted, sending a chill through the crowd. The elders, sensing the immense power being unleashed, rushed out of their secluded chambers, their faces etched with concern.
The changes were not confined to the sect. The entire country, perhaps even the world, felt the disturbance in the spiritual energy. Cultivators across the land looked up in alarm, sensing the birth of a power that threatened to shake the very foundations of reality.
Then, with a deafening roar that echoed through the heavens, Sanjeev unleashed his technique.
From the swirling clouds above, nine colossal dragons of pure energy descended, their forms majestic and terrifying. They were not mere illusions, but tangible manifestations of power, their scales shimmering like a thousand suns, their eyes burning with celestial fire.
The crowd gasped, their faces filled with awe and terror. They had never seen anything like this before, these nine heavenly dragons, each one radiating a power that dwarfed even the mightiest cultivators. The earth trembled beneath their feet, the very air vibrating with the dragons' presence.
The dragons roared, their voices like the thunder of a thousand storms, their breath a torrent of pure energy. The sound alone was enough to make the weaker cultivators faint, their minds overwhelmed by the sheer majesty and power of the celestial beings.
Li Xuan, empowered by Chi You, felt a primal fear grip his heart. He stared at the nine heavenly dragons, their forms blotting out the sky, their power dwarfing even the fallen god he had called upon. He tried to run, to escape the onslaught, but his body was frozen in terror.
The nine heavenly dragons descended upon Li Xuan, their attacks a symphony of destruction. They tore through his defenses, their claws ripping through his demonic armor, their breath burning his flesh. Li Xuan screamed in agony, his cries echoing through the ravaged arena.
The elders arrived, their faces pale with horror. They tried to intervene, to stop the carnage, but they were too late. The dragons moved with a speed and power that defied their attempts to interfere.
The dragons' attacks continued, each one more devastating than the last. Li Xuan's body was torn apart, his limbs ripped off, his flesh burned and shredded. His screams gradually faded, replaced by the sickening sounds of destruction.
Finally, it was over. The nine heavenly dragons dissipated, their forms fading back into the clouds, leaving behind a scene of utter devastation.
Li Xuan lay on the ground, his body a mangled ruin, a grotesque testament to the power of Sanjeev's technique. His limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, his flesh was charred and torn, his face was unrecognizable. He was dead, his life extinguished, his soul shattered.
Miao Li, who had watched the entire scene unfold, stood frozen in horror. She stared at her brother's mutilated corpse, her mind unable to comprehend the brutality she had witnessed. The shock, the revulsion, the sheer horror of it all overwhelmed her. She began to vomit, her body heaving uncontrollably.
Arav, his face grim, approached Miao Li. He looked at her with a cold, detached expression, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He reached out, his hand moving with a speed that she couldn't perceive, and struck her across the face.
The force of the blow sent Miao Li flying backward, crashing into the wall of the arena. She lay there, dazed and bleeding, her face swollen and bruised. Arav moved again, his hand a blur, delivering another series of slaps, each one carrying the force of a thunderbolt.
With the final slap, Arav took out all the techniques that Li Xuan had stolen from Xiner. He then turned and walked away, his expression unchanged. Sanjeev, his anger finally spent, followed him, leaving Miao Li to wallow in her pain and humiliation.
They returned to Sanjeev's room, where Xiner lay recovering. Sanjeev gently sat beside her, his hand stroking her hair.
"It's over," he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet sadness. "He can't hurt you anymore."
Xiner looked at him, her eyes filled with gratitude and relief. She reached out and took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his.
Meanwhile, news of Li Xuan's death spread quickly. The plate representing his life in the royal palace shattered, a clear sign of his demise.
The Emperor of the Li country, upon hearing the news, was consumed by a rage that dwarfed even Sanjeev's. His second son, his heir, had been killed, and in such a brutal, horrific manner. He roared his fury, his voice shaking the very foundations of the palace.
"Find out what happened!" he bellowed, his face contorted with rage. "Find out who dared to kill my son! I will have their heads! I will destroy them all!"
He gave orders to his most trusted advisors, his most powerful warriors, to investigate the matter, to track down the perpetrators, and to bring them to justice. He vowed to avenge his son's death, to unleash the full might of his empire upon those who had wronged him.
The stage was set for a conflict that would shake the very foundations of the world, a clash between a vengeful emperor and a young man driven by love and fury, a battle that would determine the fate of nations.