Chapter 247: The Strongest in the Sect

Elder Yao Chen crossed the final threshold near the main plaza, his gait loose and peaceful, hands tucked comfortably into his wide grey sleeves. But as his cloth sandals hit the edge of the courtyard, his step froze mid-air.

The quiet, deserted stone plaza he remembered was completely gone.

Instead, hundreds of unfamiliar young men and women in crisp, standardized uniforms moved across the courtyard in synchronized, disciplined teams. Groups of disciples carried massive ironwood pillars on their shoulders, while others worked efficiently with array drivers to dismantle heavy timber frames. Every single wrist bore a thick, metallic ring that clinked softly as they moved.

Yao Chen’s peaceful monk smile twitched. He blinked once. Then twice. He raised a hand, rubbing his smooth, shaved head in utter, silent bewilderment. His eyes drifted across the sheer volume of new faces filling the plaza, far exceeding the small, familiar headcount of the sect he had left behind.

His gaze swept further toward the western edge of the courtyard, locking onto two outer disciples carefully carrying a massive, painted wooden sign toward the storage pavilions.

Carved into the dark timber in bold, gilded calligraphy were the words: SANATAN FLAME SECT: INTRA-SECT TOURNAMENT — GRAND FINALS.

Yao Chen’s eyes widened to the size of tea saucers. His mouth parted, his breath catching in his throat as the words burned into his vision.

A tournament?! Since when did we hold an Intra-Sect Tournament?!

Without a single word to the disciples passing by, Yao Chen gathered the hemlines of his grey robes, whirled around, and broke into a fast, uncharacteristic hurry up the grand marble stairs of the Main Hall.

Outside in the bustling plaza, disciples continued sweeping away residual dust and stacking ironwood planks under the morning sun. The air was filled with the rhythmic hum of work and quiet chatter.

Suddenly—

"WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT—?!!"

A thunderous, shrill scream ripped straight through the heavy oak doors of the Main Hall, echoing off the surrounding mountain cliffs like a startled crane.

Every single disciple in the courtyard froze dead in their tracks. A worker dropped his broom; two disciples carrying an iron beam stumbled in surprise; and dozens of heads snapped toward the main doors in absolute, bewildered confusion.

"What was that?" an outer disciple whispered, blinking in shock.

"Is... is the Main Hall collapsing?" another asked, looking around nervously.

Inside the quiet, spacious interior of the Main Hall, incense smoke drifted lazily through the air.

Shaurya sat casually on one side of a low, polished mahogany table, resting his chin on his palm while holding a hand of wooden playing cards. Opposite him sat Elder Wan, squinting thoughtfully through his thin spectacles at his own hand, a small pile of brass tokens resting between them.

A few feet away stood Elder Yao Chen, frozen like a stone statue. His monk robes were slightly disheveled, his jaw unhinged, and his arm raised, pointing a trembling finger at the two men sitting peacefully at the table.

Shaurya didn’t even look up from his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a wooden card straight across the table. The card zipped through the air like a flying dagger, whirring right past Yao Chen’s ear before landing with a crisp CLACK on the table behind him.

"Calm your meridians, Yao Chen," Shaurya said smoothly, his golden pupils shifting up with a faint, razor-sharp grin. "Sit down and play a hand. Screaming won’t undo the last few months."

Yao Chen slowly lowered his shaking hand, his eyes darting between Shaurya’s relaxed smile and Elder Wan, who was calmly organizing his cards as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"You..." Yao Chen’s voice cracked, clutching his chest before he took a heavy, deep breath. He smoothed down his grey sleeves with stiff, mechanical movements, shuffled over to the low table, and practically collapsed onto a cushion. "I go into the Literature Hall for a simple cultivation session... and I step out into a full-scale grand tournament and an ocean of new faces?!"

Elder Wan chuckled softly, tossing a brass token into the center of the mahogany board. "You were in there for months, Yao Chen. The world moves fast when you’re staring at a wall."

"Months?!" Yao Chen stared at Elder Wan, his eyebrow giving a sharp, uncontrollable twitch. "Elder Wan, there are enough disciples out there to march on a kingdom! Who are all these kids? Where did they even come from?!"

Shaurya casually threw down three matching wooden tiles onto the table, the varnish ringing with a crisp CLACK. "Recruitment went well. Deal him in, Elder Wan."

Elder Wan slid a stack of wooden cards across the table toward Yao Chen.

Yao Chen looked at the cards, then at the two men, and finally let out a long, defeated sigh. He reached out, picked up his hand, and fanned the tiles out with a practiced flick of his wrist. "So let me get this straight... I miss the entire expansion, I miss a sect-wide tournament, and nobody thought to knock on my door?"

"We didn’t want to disturb your meridians," Shaurya replied smoothly, picking up a tile from the pile and tossing a brass token into the pot. "Besides, you hate administrative paperwork anyway."

"I do hate paperwork," Yao Chen admitted, squinting at his hand before aggressively slamming a high-value tile onto the board. "Take that! But still, you could have left a note! Do you have any idea how ridiculous I looked sprinting up the stairs thinking the mountain got taken over?"

Elder Wan chuckled, laying down two cards. "We heard the scream, Yao Chen. Pretty sure the outer plaza heard it too."

"I was startled!" Yao Chen defended himself, tossing two tokens into the middle with a huff. He leaned back on his cushion, the cool air of the hall finally settling his nerves as a small, easygoing smile crept back onto his face. He picked up his cold tea cup, taking a long gulp. "Alright, fine. So the tournament’s over. What now? Do I go back to my books, or are you two planning another surprise?"

Shaurya took a slow sip of his cold brew, a calm, razor-sharp grin spreading across his lips as he laid his final hand face-up on the table.

"The tournament was just the warm-up," Shaurya said, his golden eyes flashing with quiet anticipation. "Today, we lay down the true hierarchy of this peak."

Outside in the main courtyard, the atmosphere was electrifying.

Thousands of disciples gathered around the central plaza, their voices merging into a roaring ocean of chants and chatter. Today was the day. The Intra-Sect Tournament had concluded, but the true hierarchy of the Sanatan Flame Sect—spanning Outer Disciples, Inner Disciples, Core Disciples, and even the Elders—was about to be unveiled based on absolute, comprehensive power.

"SANATAN! FLAME! SANATAN! FLAME!"

The roar echoed off the mountain cliffs as six thousand four hundred disciples stomped their boots against the flagstones in a rhythmic, thunderous beat.

Off to the eastern balcony, Wang Tian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark coat fluttering in the breeze. His posture exuded pure, unadulterated arrogance, a cold smirk resting on his lips as he looked down at the courtyard. Beside him, Luo Chen leaned against a stone pillar, his eyes narrowed, emitting an equally sharp, quiet dominance. Neither spoke, but their very presence radiated the crushing pressure of the sect’s apex fighters.

Near the central stairs, the rest of the leadership gathered. Lin Shu stood alongside Elder Liya, both of them watching the roaring crowd with bright, expectant eyes.

"Look at them," Lin Shu murmured, a small smile gracing her lips. "They’ve been waiting for this all morning."

"It’s about time," Elder Liya replied, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Everyone wants to know where they truly stand when the dust settles."

Standing further back, Elder Wu and Elder Jian Fan remained stoic as iron mountains, their arms folded inside their wide sleeves, their expressions calm and unreadable. Nearby, Elder Feng Yu and Elder An Ning stood side by side, exchanging sharp, competitive glares—their longstanding rivalry simmering even as they waited for the official scroll to drop.

The heavy, iron-reinforced double doors of the Main Hall groaned as they swung wide open.

Shaurya stepped out onto the high northern balcony, his dark coat sweeping around his boots in the crisp morning gale. Flanking him on either side, Elder Wan adjusted his thin spectacles while Elder Yao Chen, his grey monk robes now neatly straightened, smoothed his shaved head with a wry smile. With quiet, practiced steps, both elders descended the side staircase toward the eastern balcony, taking their places alongside Elder Wu, Elder Jian Fan, Elder Liya, Elder Feng Yu, and Elder An Ning.

Across the vast white-stone plaza, the ocean of thousands of disciples went dead silent in less than a second. Shuffling boots instantly stopped. Chatting voices vanished into the wind. Around Seven Thousands disciples snapped into iron-like formation, bringing their left palms squarely over their right fists as they bowed in absolute, synchronized reverence toward the elevated balcony.

Shaurya rested one hand on the cool marble balustrade, his golden pupils sweeping across the endless rows of disciplined faces below.

"You bled on the jade platform," Shaurya’s voice cut through the mountain air, low, effortless, and ringing in the ears of every single disciple without a breath of qi amplification. "You traded scars, tested your limits, and proved what months of shared sweat can build. But a single tournament bracket only reflects who won a fight on a given afternoon. Today, we lay down where everyone truly stands."

A deafening, earth-shaking roar erupted from six thousand throats, fists thrusting into the sky before snapping back into dead silence at a single lift of Shaurya’s brow.

Lin Shu stepped up to the balcony rail beside him, her dark hair fluttering across her cheek as her curious eyes scanned the massive crowd below. "How are you going to show thousands of names without turning the courtyard into a chaotic mess?"

Shaurya didn’t answer in prose. The corner of his mouth curved into a calm, confident smile as he raised his right hand into the open sky.

SNAP!

A sharp, crystal-clear finger-snap echoed off the surrounding granite cliffs.

The morning sky directly above the central plaza fractured like thin glass. Concentric rings of brilliant golden light detonated three hundred feet in the air, swirling into a blinding vortex of raw spiritual aura. Out of the golden tear, two colossal, ancient parchment scrolls materialized—their silk borders woven with dark crimson thread and their heavy jade rollers carved with ancient flame runes.

Slowly, imperiously, the two massive scrolls unrolled down through the clouds, hovering three hundred feet above the courtyard flags. Intricate, burning golden runes drifted off the parchment like shimmering embers, casting a warm, imperial radiance over every upturned face.

Gasp after gasp rippled through the ranks as six thousand pairs of eyes reflected the blinding light of the floating artifacts.

"Eyes up," Shaurya instructed, his voice smooth and absolute. "The left scroll belongs to the Outer Disciples. The right scroll belongs to the Inner and Core Disciples. Look at your name, see the gap above you, and use it to drive your next step."

Shaurya extended both palms toward the open sky. The twin scrolls flared with a blinding, sun-like radiance that swallowed the morning light. A physical wave of warm, gentle spiritual energy expanded from the floating parchment, washing over every disciple and elder across the peak—clearing their minds and lifting the lingering fatigue of the tournament—before dissolving softly into the atmosphere.

The first scroll—the Outer Disciple Scroll—expanded across the left side of the sky. Glowing ink began to write itself across the parchment in real-time, listing thousands of names in precise, power-adjusted order.

Among the thousands of names, ten figures appeared at the absolute top of the Outer ranks:

Jian Chen

Mo Zihan

Lu Sheng

Zhao Ling

Han Chen

Guang Yao

Song Yue

Fu Tian

Yan Hui

Sheng Xi

Thunderous applause and cheers broke out among the Outer Disciples as their peers recognized the names burning in gold above the peak.

"Silence," Shaurya’s voice cut through the noise gently. "Now... the second scroll."

The right scroll—the Inner & Core Disciple Scroll—flared with a deeper, crimson-gold light. It split cleanly down the center, dividing the parchment into two distinct columns: Inner Disciples on the left, Core Disciples on the right.

Golden letters materialized rapidly across the Inner Disciple column.

Due to overall combat power, cultivation depth, and true martial foundation beyond the tournament results, the Top 10 Inner Disciples settled into their official positions:

Ye Chen

Zhang Wei

Liu Feng

Chen Long

Lin Xiaobao

Su Qing

Meng Huo

Ba Tu

Ran Ji

Song Kai

Ye Chen stood in the front row, his jaw dropping as he saw his name locked solidly at #1 Inner Disciple. A huge, goofy grin spread across his face as he thrust his fist into the air. "HA! SEE THAT, XIAOBAO?! POWER RANKINGS DON’T LIE! NUMBER ONE!"

Lin Xiaobao, standing at #5 with his arm bound in white bandages, simply shook his head with a quiet, amused smirk.

Then, the right side of the scroll ignited into brilliant crimson flames. The crowd held its breath as the official Core Disciple Hierarchy materialized line by line:

Wang Tian

Luo Chen

Xiao Rui

Lu Fang

Muo Qian

Su Quan

Jun Hua

Sheng Lu

Chen Fang

Xu Ran

Lee Bie

Xiao Lian

Zong Bu

Shen Hang

Silence fell over the courtyard as the fourteen Core Disciples read their names.

On the eastern balcony, Wang Tian threw his head back and burst into a boisterous, arrogant laugh that rang across the entire plaza.

"BAHAHAHAHA!" Wang Tian slammed his hand against his knee, looking over at Luo Chen and Lu Fang with a mocking smirk. "Look at that! Look at the top of the board! First place! As if there was ever any doubt! You boys had better train for another hundred years if you want to smell my coat!"

Luo Chen’s eyes twitched violently. His hand gripped his sword hilt so hard the leather groaned. "Shut your arrogant mouth, Wang Tian! A minor margin in core density doesn’t mean you can beat my blade in a real duel!"

"You loud-mouthed bastard!" Lu Fang barked from #4, pointing an angry finger at Wang Tian. "Bragging like a peacock! I’ll take that #1 spot from you before the month ends!"

Wang Tian just laughed louder, crossing his arms and grinning smugly at their rage while the crowd below chuckled at the familiar Core Disciple bickering.

On the eastern balcony, the Elders watched the chaotic flurry of shouting Core Disciples with amused expressions. Elder Yao Chen, his shaved head glistening under the morning sun, adjusted his wide grey sleeves and looked up toward the floating scrolls. He blinked a few times, leaning over toward Elder Wan.

"Wait a second..." Yao Chen scratched his smooth head, a puzzled look spreading across his face. "The Outer Disciples have their scroll. The Inner and Core Disciples have theirs. Where are we on that board? Did the Sect Master forget about the old guard?"

On the high northern platform, Shaurya caught the remark. A sharp, playful grin spread across his face, his golden pupils flashing with unmistakable, arrogant mischief under the sunlight.

"Forget you?" Shaurya’s voice floated down smoothly over the balcony railing. "Never. You spent years holding this mountain together—you deserve your own stage."

Shaurya reached into the inner lining of his dark coat. With a flick of his wrist, he produced a third scroll—smaller than the others, woven entirely from shimmering, thread-of-gold silk and capped with twin ivory rollers that radiated a dense, suffocating spiritual pressure.

He didn’t launch it with force. He simply tossed it casually into the open air above the central plaza, as if throwing a toy.

BOOM!

The moment the golden cylinder reached the apex of its arc, it detonated into a blinding pillar of liquid gold light that shot straight into the clouds. The air pressure above the plaza imploded, driving a heavy wind across the mountain that flattened the banners and rustled every robe in the courtyard.

The golden light expanded, stretching wide until a massive, imperial parchment towered directly above the Main Hall, dwarfing the previous two scrolls in sheer, overwhelming radiance.

The crowd went dead silent. Thousands of disciples, Outer, Inner, Core Disciples, and the entire Elder council stood completely frozen, their upturned faces painted in glowing gold as they watched the top header write itself line by line in burning, dragon-like calligraphy.

First came the title, burning with ridiculous, blinding arrogance:

[THE STRONGEST IN THE SECT. THE MAJESTIC. THE ALL-MIGHTY. THE HANDSOME ONE.]

A collective tremor passed through the ranks. Disciples blinked in utter disbelief. Elder Yao Chen’s jaw slowly unhinged, while Elder Wu let out a quiet, raspy cough into his fist.

Then, right below the absurd title, the golden ink flared with the heat of a mini sun, carving out a single name in massive, undeniable letters at the absolute #1 spot:

SHAURYA THE GREAT

Shaurya stood at the edge of the marble balustrade, resting his left hand casually on his hip. He tossed his head back, letting out a smooth, delighted laugh that echoed off every surrounding cliff face, completely unbothered by his own shameless self-praise.

He slowly lowered his chin, his dark, gold-trimmed coat sweeping dramatically around his boots in the mountain breeze. With total, practiced swagger, Shaurya turned sideways to the crowd, resting two fingers against his temple and giving the thousands number audience a sharp, razor-thin smirk that practically radiated untouchable arrogance.

"What?" Shaurya chuckled, his golden eyes gleaming down at the dumbfounded crowd. "You expect the man who built this peak sect to be humble?"

Below his name, the golden light on the massive scroll rippled once more. The lower half of the parchment began to unroll down toward the plaza flags, dividing cleanly into three distinct, glowing columns: The Elders, The Guardian Beasts, and The Combined Absolute Power Ranking.

A low, expectant murmur rippled through the crowd as the golden ink flickered, preparing to carve out the true hierarchy of the sect’s highest powers.

To Be Continued.....