Chapter 102: Chapter 102
Ethan gripped the Moonflood Scythe tightly as he unleashed its attack. The force and speed of his slash had multiplied tenfold, the surging scythe intent so fearsome that even Adyr was shocked at heart.
"Boy, if you dare harm my disciple, I will kill you!" Adyr’s voice was sharp, carrying beyond the entire martial ground.
A steely chill possessed Ethan’s eyes. "Sam’s fate is sealed. And as for you, if you want to kill me, bring it on!"
There was neither remorse nor fear on Ethan’s face—only the cold, steady focus of someone who had already evaluated his own life and opponents fairly.
He ignored Adyr’s threats and unleashed the culminating strike—the final form of the Autumn Leaf Scythe Technique.
A faint slicing sound broke the silence as the scythe’s razor arc cut cleanly through flesh. An explosion of blood sprayed across the stage.
Sam’s gaze fell in disbelief to the wound slashed across his abdomen, so deep it nearly cleaved him in half. His face crumpled in agony—vision swimming, strength failing—then darkness claimed him and he collapsed on the stone.
"Sam!" Adyr roared, voice torn open by loss and rage.
His gaze turned murderous as it locked on Ethan. Lashing out with a palm, a torrent of spiritual power exploded toward Ethan.
Instinctively, Ethan summoned every thread of his own energy, lunging a fist to meet the blow.
Bang!
The stage thundered with impact. Ethan flew backwards, somersaulting through the air before slamming down and skidding across the stone. He staggered upright, wiping blood from his lips.
The crowd sucked in a collective breath. The might of a Tribulation Transcendence expert was overwhelming.
But Ethan’s body, tempered by the Celestial Jade Physique Scripture, had survived worse than this. He coughed, heart pounding, but the damage was not fatal—his body ached, the force sent him blood surging and internal organs trembling, but the result was only minor internal injury.
Had his body been even a fraction weaker, the blow would have ruptured his meridians outright, perhaps swift and certain death.
Adyr, startled to see Ethan still standing, barely hid his shock before rushing to Sam.
There was no time to question Ethan’s resilience—his priority was saving his disciple.
He bent quickly by Sam’s side, tossing out a palmful of precious elixirs and working his healing techniques as waves of spiritual energy surged around his hands, trying desperately to preserve Sam’s life and stabilize his broken spirit.
Ethan’s lips curled in a cold smile as he watched. "A second slower and Adyr would be mourning, not healing," he mused.
If Adyr had hesitated even a heartbeat, Sam would not only have been cut down, but burned on the field.
It made little difference, ultimately. That single, relentless scythe strike had utterly shattered Sam’s dantian and meridians.
Even if Sam awoke, he would never cultivate again—reduced to an ordinary mortal, his cultivation crippled without hope of return.
The entire arena sat frozen, a universe of silence as the enormity of the outcome sank in.
No one dared whisper, let alone speak. They could only stare as the drama unfolded, held in thrall by Ethan’s violence and Sam’s defeat.
Seraphina rose to her feet. She never expected Ethan to vanquish Sam so completely, so decisively.
His strength had edged so close to her own that for the first time, she truly saw him as a threat. She wanted to deny it, but reality eradicated her doubts.
She pointed at Ethan, her voice sharp, "Ethan, to cut down a fellow sect member without restraint—how will you account for your crime!"
Ethan cocked his head, his mocking smile radiating defiance.
"Crime? What crime? Does the Saint want to play judge for the Law Enforcement Hall, too? If so, you’d better have the strength to follow through!"
Seraphina’s anger cracked, her voice growing increasingly cold and direct.
"I thought ten years in the Serene Mirror Lake would have taught you some humility," she began, but Ethan cut her off, "Bla bla bla, enough. Let’s settle this with a contest—saint, do you dare fight me?"
The challenge sent a ripple through the crowd.
"It’s over, Ethan’s gone crazy."
"Provoking Her Highness the Saint to a duel? No one else would dare!"
"Will she fight? Or will she refuse?"
There was real excitement—whether in anger, fear, or awe.
Seraphina’s lips twisted into a contemptuous sneer. "You’re not qualified to make me act."
Ethan’s eyes narrowed, his mocking tone biting. "Is that your excuse, or does fear and shame make the shackles for saints?"
He held his scythe low, the blade humming with spiritual energy as if feeding on his bloodlust after a decade of cultivation.
A low, growing buzz climbed from the scythe—a resonant, eager vibration.
Even to non-experts, it was clear: Ethan was dead set on forcing Seraphina’s hand.
But no matter how he tried, he was caught by circumstance—no ordinary challenger could force the Saint’s engagement; she was shielded by tradition and by the Black Oath Commander.
"As for me, I have no such shackles," Ethan called, squatting in a low offensive stance as the scythe intent danced in rings of ghostly blue.
"If Her Highness the Saint refuses to descend, then I’ll come to you!"
With explosive force he launched from the ground, cannonballing toward the highest viewing platform.
Seraphina’s eyes flashed in alarm; she had not anticipated such speed from a physical cultivator.
A split second before impact, a shadow flickered—Lilith, the Black Oath Commander, appeared, palm raised.
"Ethan, don’t be rash!"
A wash of Tribulation Transcendence pressure descended like a tidal wave, an air wall halting Ethan’s charge. Red light exploded from Ethan as essence and blood formed an impenetrable barrier around him.
Lilith tightened her gaze, deeply surprised. "This light...is it true essence and blood?"
Ethan’s smile was relaxed but unyielding. "I only want to see if the Saint’s strength matches her position. If she can’t best someone like me, who wasted ten years, how can she lead Azure Origin Dao Sect without ridicule?"
Lilith tensed. She had not expected such biting, public challenge. Yet her duty was clear: she would not let Ethan cross without Seraphina’s will.
A laugh, cold and sharp, split the tension.
"If Her Highness the Saint is afraid, then I won’t pressure her—no need for a embarrassed scene in front of the whole sect."
A/N:
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