Hope exhaled slowly, pushing aside his doubts. ‘Never mind. In the end, it’s all about strength. Once I’m strong enough, I’ll uncover the truth about my body… and my bloodline. For now…’


    His gaze sharpened, his presence shifting like a blade unsheathed. The air around him grew colder, thick with an intangible weight. Sensing the change, the panther—no longer the small creature it once was—lifted its massive head, its piercing eyes locking onto Hope. It stepped closer, pressing its enormous head against him in a silent gesture of concern.


    Hope let out a breath and forced himself to relax, not wanting to worry his companion. He reached out, running a hand over the panther’s sleek fur before meeting its eyes.


    "Do you want a name?"


    The beast tilted its head, as if surprised by the sudden question. A moment passed before it nodded, a flicker of curiosity in its gaze.


    Hope studied the panther carefully. It had grown into a formidable creature, now a rank 3 beast bordering on rank 4. Before, he had mistaken it for an ordinary Shadow Panther. But now, with his newly awakened death intent, he could sense it clearly—this beast wasn’t just aligned with shadows. It carried the essence of Death itself. And its affinity for it… was anything but weak.


    A rare smile tugged at the corner of Hope’s lips. ‘Good. At least now, I can rest easy knowing you’ll have the strength to protect yourself.’


    Seeing the panther’s expectant gaze, Hope spoke again, his voice calm yet resolute.


    "I will kill that Flame Wyvern first. Then… I’ll name you. How about that?"


    The panther stiffened, its massive form tensing. It hadn’t forgotten. Five years ago, it had watched as Hope came back while having lost his arm in battle against that very creature. And now, it feared something worse might happen. Its gray eyes darkened with unease, trying to convey its emotions through a silent plea.


    Hope saw this and felt touched. He and the little one had been together for so long—the panther had practically spent its entire life by his side. He reached out, running his fingers through its sleek fur as he spoke softly, "Don’t worry. I’ll heal my arm first before I face that wyvern. And if I can’t kill it… I’ll run, just like I did five years ago."


    A faint smile crossed his lips, and he paused, realizing it. ‘Ever since I started contemplating Life, my happiness has been returning… even as my cultivation advances. Strange.’


    But his anger had never faded. If anything, it had grown deeper, always simmering beneath the surface, ever-present like a flame that refused to be extinguished. ‘My rage lingers because it is tied to Destruction… but why does Life bring me peace while Death fuels my fury?’ He pondered the contradiction but found no clear answer.


    The little one nudged him again, its rough tongue lapping at his arm in an affectionate gesture. It knew nothing would stop Hope from seeking the Flame Wyvern. So, instead of resisting, it accepted his choice, choosing to cherish this moment.


    "Yes, yes… let’s go back" Hope said, exhaling softly.


    Together, they returned to the cave that had been their home since arriving at Flamedragon Mountain.


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    As soon as they entered, Hope sat down, closing his eyes and focusing inward. Using his life intent, he guided its essence to his severed arm. A warm, radiant energy surged through his body, accelerating the regeneration process. Muscles, bones, and flesh slowly began to knit themselves back together. ‘At this rate… about a week. I’ll use this time to deepen my understanding of Life.’


    Behind him, the panther lounged lazily, its massive frame stretching across the cave floor. Its steady breathing was the only sound in the dim space.


    Meanwhile, miles away, in the halls of Phoenix Cry Pavilion, a different kind of silence reigned.


    The Sect Master’s hall was filled with an oppressive stillness as the gathered elders and core disciples sat in tense anticipation. No one spoke, yet countless unspoken messages passed between them through careful glances and subtle gestures.


    They waited.


    On the throne the Sect Master sat motionless, fingers steepled before him. Then, at last, he spoke.


    The Sect Master swept his gaze across the assembled Elders, Grand Elders, and Legacy disciples before speaking in a firm, unwavering tone.


    "The competition for the throne will take place exactly six months from today. After extensive discussions with the Ember Phoenix Sect, we have reached an accord. This time, we will be the hosts, and I expect everything to proceed flawlessly—without a single misstep. Now, are there any pressing matters to report?"


    An Elder immediately stepped forward, his expression grim.


    "The situation outside the capital is worsening. Our alliance with the Ember Phoenix Sect is strained—their disciples have been relentlessly targeting ours. Extortion, broken bones, public humiliation… It’s becoming unbearable. How should we proceed?"


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall. Some nodded in agreement, anger evident in their eyes, while others remained cautious, unwilling to escalate tensions further.


    The Grand Elders, however, were livid. To be treated this way by an equal? Unacceptable. Meanwhile, the Legacy disciples clenched their fists so tightly their knuckles turned white, vowing in silence to exact vengeance on every Ember Phoenix Sect disciple they encountered outside the city.


    The Sect Master exhaled quietly, though his expression remained unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice firm.


    "For now, we endure. But during the competition… we strike back."


    A pause. Then, his gaze sharpened as he called out a single name.


    "Ren."


    A man, now in his mid-twenties, stepped forward.


    The air around him shifted instantly, thick with the presence of an expert. His mere presence commanded attention. The Elders exchanged bitter smiles, knowing that even they couldn’t match his brilliance. The Grand Elders, however, regarded him with expressions of appreciation and approval.


    Ren—the rising star of the sect. His ascent over the past few years had been nothing short of meteoric. He had reached the Will Refinement stage, and not merely its early stages. No, he stood at the late stage—placing him on equal footing with the Elders and even some of the weaker Grand Elders.


    Ren bowed slightly, his tone respectful yet unwavering. "What are your orders, Sect Master?"


    The Sect Master met his gaze and nodded approvingly before his voice rang out, sharp and absolute.


    "During the competition, kill every Ember Phoenix Sect disciple you can. Show no mercy."


    A cold glint flickered in his eyes, a reflection of the ruthless intent behind his words.


    The room, once heavy with frustration, shifted in an instant. The Elders and Grand Elders, who had been simmering with resentment over the bullying their sect had endured, now wore satisfied grins. They nodded in approval, their anticipation for the upcoming competition intensifying. They craved blood.


    Ren''s expression remained solemn as he gave a single, resolute reply.


    "It shall be done, Sect Master."


    The Sect Master nodded once more before concluding, "That is all for today. We will reconvene before the competition begins. You are dismissed."


    With that, he took a step forward—and vanished.


    One by one, the others followed, each executing their own movement technique with practiced ease. Within moments, the grand hall lay empty, the echoes of their departure lingering in the air.


    <hr>


    A week passed in the blink of an eye.


    Hope slowly opened his eyes, his gaze falling on his left arm—fully restored, seamlessly reattached as if it had never been lost.


    A faint smile tugged at his lips as he murmured, "Welcome back."


    But he wasn’t just welcoming the return of his arm.


    He was welcoming back his confidence.