Chapter 248: The Right to Challenge

Below Shaurya’s glowing title, the lower half of the golden parchment rippled, shedding small sparks of heat as crimson qi bled across the silk.

Stroke by stroke, burning characters etched themselves into the left column, carving out the sect’s governing elders in blazing red ink:

1. Elder An Ning

2. Elder Liya

3. Elder Lin Shu

4. Elder Feng Yu

5. Elder Yao Chen

6. Elder Wan

7. Elder Hua

8. Elder Wu

9. Elder Jian Fan

10. Elder Meow Mao

Down near the front perimeter of the main courtyard, Elder Meow Mao stood with his arms folded loosely inside his deep navy sleeves, head tilted all the way back. His eyes blinked slowly as the ninth line sealed his name in glowing gold.

A lazy, amused smirk tugged at the corner of Meow Mao’s mouth. He reached up with one hand, idly scratching his jawline as he let out a short, dry chuckle. "Well, look at that... they actually remembered to throw my name onto the elder board."

Up on the northern platform, Shaurya leaned his forearm against the marble railing, looking straight down at him. A teasing grin spread across his face as his voice carried cleanly over the quiet courtyard. "You run the entire Mission Hall, Meow Mao. You’re the one handing out every contribution token and managing thousands of missions every day. If you don’t make the list, the disciples might start thinking the Mission Hall runs on thin air."

Meow Mao let out a huff through his nose, shaking his head with a quiet smile before tucking his hand back into his sleeve.

Meanwhile, over on the eastern balcony, the calm completely shattered.

Elder Wan’s head snapped toward the parchment, his eyes darting frantically between the fifth and sixth spots. His fingers gripped the edges of his administrative scroll until the paper crinkled. He whipped his head around to stare at Yao Chen, completely baffled.

"Three and a half months..." Elder Wan stammered, pointing an accusing finger at the young monk. "You locked yourself in the Literature Hall for three and a half months, and you come out stronger than me?! What kind of cultivation method did you even practice in there to jump that high?!"

Elder Yao Chen didn’t flinch. He smoothed the front of his clean grey monk robes with slow, deliberate grace. He brought his left palm against his right palm in front of his chest, setting his posture into an image of pure, untouched tranquility. His shaved head gleamed softly under the morning sunlight as he offered Elder Wan a radiant, serene smile.

"Amitabha..." Yao Chen said softly, his voice gentle enough to sound holy. "This humble monk owes it all to Elder Wan’s peerless brilliance. Those high-grade foundation pills you refined for me before my seclusion worked wonders. Truly, without your tireless alchemy, my meridians could never have broken through so swiftly."

Elder Wan froze. His jaw dropped, his eyes bulging as the words hit him like a physical slap to the face.

"What?!" Elder Wan choked out, his voice cracking into pure, unfiltered disbelief. "I spent three months sweating over the alchemy furnace, teaching disciples, and managing sect accounts... and you used my own pills to surpass me?!"

On the high balcony, Shaurya caught the entire exchange, an awkward, amused smile spreading across his face as he scratched his brow. "Well... as the saying goes, Elder Wan. To cut iron, you have to use iron."

Elder Wan looked up at Shaurya in sheer betrayal, while Yao Chen maintained his peaceful, holy expression, slightly bowing his head as if accepting a divine blessing.

Beside them, the other elders reacted in their own distinct ways.

Elder Liya rested her chin on her palm, glancing over at Elder An Ning with a teasing smirk. "Still clinging to the top spot among us, Elder An Ning? Don’t get too comfortable up there."

Elder An Ning didn’t look at her, keeping his arms crossed inside his dark robes, though a subtle, confident smirk formed at the corner of his lips.

Further along the rail, Elder Feng Yu shot a sharp, competitive side-eye at Lin Shu, who merely offered a graceful, serene nod in return, while Elder Wu and Elder Jian Fan stood like twin statues, completely unfazed by the noise as they silently analyzed the ranks.

The banter along the balcony cut short as the center of the celestial parchment ignited with a violent surge of azure and vermilion flame.

The middle column cracked open like splitting timber, raw beast-qi rippling across the courtyard as four names seared into the fabric in burning, jagged calligraphy:

[GUARDIAN BEASTS]

1. Lorgann

2. Dragzard

3. Blazejet

4. Arcanine

Down in the outer ranks, hundreds of new disciples stared at the sky, nudging each other with raised eyebrows and puzzled whispers.

"Guardian Beasts?" a newly recruited outer disciple murmured, looking around the empty plaza. "We have four divine beasts protecting the mountain? Where are they kept?"

"They stay in the deep pavilions behind the Main Hall," an older disciple replied under his breath, eyes fixed on the burning script. "They’ve been in deep seclusion refining their bloodlines for months. Most of us haven’t even caught a glimpse of their scales since the grand recruitment."

"Forget where they sleep—look at the right side!" another disciple blurted out, gripping his companion’s sleeve and pointing upward. "The third column is clearing out! It’s putting the elders and the beasts on the exact same board. "We’re about to see who stands right behind the Sect Master!"

The murmur across the thousands of disciples died down in an instant. No less than Seven Thousands pairs of eyes locked onto the blank right side of the parchment, chests rising and falling in silent, tense anticipation.

The golden light above the central plaza condensed into a swirling vortex of raw spiritual aura. Golden ink struck the parchment like lightning, branding each line into the silk with heavy, resonant pulses of power:

1. Lorgann

2. Elder An Ning

3. Elder Liya

4. Elder Lin Shu

5. Dragzard

6. Elder Yao Chen

7. Elder Wan

8. Blazejet

9. Elder Hua

10. Elder Wu

11. Arcanine

12. Elder Jian Fan

13. Elder Meow Mao

The entire courtyard froze in dead, suffocating silence.

Then, the Single-Mingle Gang on the Core balcony completely erupted.

"LORGANN! THAT’S OUR BOY!" Xiao Rui roared, grabbing Lee Bie by the collar and shaking him violently as he stomped his boots against the marble floor.

"First place! He took the top spot right beneath the Sect Master!" Sheng Lu bellowed, his chest swelling as he threw both fists into the air with a wide, manic grin.

Beside them, Zong Bu clapped his heavy hands together, letting out a booming laugh that shook the railing, while Chen Fang right into the center of their huddle, pumping his fist and cheering at the top of his lungs along with the rest of the gang. The group clapped each other on the back, completely ignoring the stunned silence of the elders around them.

On the eastern balcony, Elder An Ning’s arms slowly uncrossed. His fingers twitched against his dark sleeves, his sharp, predatory eyes locked dead onto the top line. The cold, unreadable composure he wore year-round shattered, his eyebrows drawing tight as his chest rose with a sudden, sharp intake of air. He stared at Lorgann’s name, a fierce, competitive fire burning in the depths of his pupils.

Up on the northern platform, Shaurya’s jaw tightened slightly, his golden pupils widening in genuine surprise. He glanced back toward the deep inner chambers of the Main Hall where the beast had been secluded for months.

"That lazy lizard..." Shaurya muttered under his breath, a sharp, incredulous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "He spent all those weeks curled up inside, and he actually broke through this much? When did his dragon core refine to that level?"

The surprise lasted only a few breaths before Shaurya smoothed his expression. He stepped forward until the tips of his boots touched the absolute edge of the marble balustrade, looking out over the roaring courtyard.

He raised his right hand into the morning sky.

SNAP.

The sharp sound cut cleanly through the shouting.

In an instant, the three colossal golden scrolls fractured into millions of shimmering embers. The golden motes rained down over the courtyard like falling stars, sinking harmlessly into the white stone floorboards and dissolving into the wind. The morning sky cleared, the crisp mountain gale sweeping over the ranks once more.

Shaurya rested his hands on the cool balustrade, his voice carrying effortlessly across the peak without a breath of qi amplification.

"The names written in the sky today are not permanent," Shaurya declared, his golden gaze pinning every rank in place. "They are targets painted on your backs. Every single standing on that board is active, fluid, and vulnerable to hunger."

The disciples stood stiff, their breaths held tight.

"From this day forward, the rules of advancement are absolute," Shaurya continued. "Within your own rank, you may issue a formal challenge to anyone standing above you. Outer against Outer. Inner against Inner. If you win on the official stage, you take their rank. If you lose, you train until your hands bleed and try again."

He shifted his gaze toward the front perimeter, locking onto Jian Chen, Mo Zihan, and the rest of the newly elevated top ten Outer Disciples.

"For those who wish to cross the boundary: the Top Five Outer Disciples hold the right to challenge any Inner Disciple for their seat. And if any one of you—regardless of rank—believes you have the strength, the technique, and the unyielding spine to stand at the apex..."

Shaurya’s eyes swept toward Wang Tian, Luo Chen, and the rest of the Core Disciples standing on the eastern balcony.

"...Anyone on this mountain may issue a challenge to a Core Disciple."

A collective, electric shudder ripped through the courtyard. Ye Chen’s jaw locked into a sharp, predatory grin, his hand tightening around his scabbard as his eyes flicked toward the Core Disciples above. Beside him, Lin Xiaobao smiled quietly, adjusting his bandaged arm with renewed focus.

Shaurya turned, his dark, gold-trimmed coat billowing around his boots as he walked toward the inner chamber doors.

"You have your ranks," Shaurya’s voice echoed across the quiet plaza, sharp and final. "Now prove to me that you deserve the air you breathe on this peak. Disperse, and cultivate."

More than Six thousands voices erupted into a deafening, earth-shaking roar of burning resolve, shaking the very foundations of the peak.

Shaurya paused at the heavy entrance doors, glancing back over his shoulder. Watching thousands of disciples instantly break formation to rush toward the training grounds and gravity chambers, their eyes blazing with raw drive, a wide, genuine grin spread across his face.

DING!

A semi-transparent, golden system screen flickered into existence right before his eyes:

[Your disciples are pumped up and working with terrifying fervor. Truly an admirable sight.]

Shaurya gave a subtle, satisfied nod.

The system text shifted immediately:

[Perhaps the lazy Host could take notes and learn a thing or two from their work ethic.]

A thick blue vein popped up on Shaurya’s forehead. His eye twitched as he glared at the floating text, his teeth gritting in an annoyed whisper. "Shut your damn mouth before I find a way to dismantle your interface."

Thousands of miles away from the Sanatan Flame Sect.

The sky hung heavy with suffocating, dark grey ash.

Where a grand sect compound once stood, only a hellscape of shattered stone and collapsed pavilions remained. Massive craters, dozens of meters deep, pocked the scorched earth like open wounds. Thick black smoke billowed into the sky from the raging fires consuming the splintered timber, and a dense, choking layer of dust drifted over the blood-soaked rubble.

Dozens of crushed corpses lay scattered across the broken courtyards, their robes shredded and their weapons snapped in half.

High above the burning devastation, suspended effortlessly in mid-air, a lone figure floated against the smoke.

Liu Tong hovered quietly, his dark robes and long hair drenched in fresh, dripping blood. The crimson fluid ran down his pale jaw, dripping off his chin and falling toward the ruins below.

He looked down at the complete annihilation beneath his boots, his chest rising with slow, rhythmic breaths. Slowly, the corners of his blood-stained lips pulled back, stretching into a wide, jagged grin that showed his crimson-coated teeth.

To Be Continued...