SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

“Enter!” Elder Zong commanded.

The first wave of disciples surged forward like floodwaters. Battle auras clashed even before they crossed the threshold. A spear strike rang out, answered by a burst of fire, and the air was filled with dust and killing intent.

Kent turned towards his golden-scaled dragon Sparky.

“You’ll rest this round… I will take the one eyed bandit.” Kent said while placing hand on the dragon head.

Sparky roared in acceptance as he also knew that the one eyed bandit is perfect for treasure hunting.

Kent then touched his spirit ring which has a living world in it. A shadow emerged from it — a squat, fur-covered beast with a scarred eye and a single gleaming eye. Its gaze was sharp as a dagger, its nose twitching restlessly.

The spectators whispered.

“The One-Eyed Bandit? Is he mad?”

“Idiot, Bandit is best for finding treasures — it’s a master treasure sniffer. That beast’s nose can find spirit herbs buried under mountains of stone.”

“Hmph. Kent King’s just relying on tricks. He won’t last long against the real killers.”

Kent entered by flying on a sword and the bandit sat on his shoulder.

After entering inside, Kent flew high into the sky and began observing the terrain of the treasure land.

A vast picture appeared before him. Rolling mountains stretched into the distance, each peak crowned with lush spirit trees. Rivers glowed with spiritual light, and even the clouds overhead were tinted with strange hues — crimson, jade-green, and gold. But far away, to the east, the sky burned an eerie yellow, like molten metal pouring from the heavens.

The One-Eyed Bandit trembled with excitement, pawing at Kent’s collar before pointing its nose in the same direction.

“So, the east holds the best things,” Kent murmured.

Standing upon his sword, Kent flew straight towards it. The sword hummed softly, and they shot forward, slicing through clouds. Below, faint roars of beasts and the clashing of weapons echoed — disciples were already fighting for their first treasures.

Kent, however, moved like a phantom. He didn’t dive for the first glittering herb or glowing ore. His eyes scanned the horizon, calculating, planning. His presence was faint, almost swallowed by the spiritual currents in the air.

The One-Eyed Bandit gave a sharp, eager chuff, its single eye burning like a lantern in the night.

The crowd erupted the moment Kent’s figure showed up on the viewing screens. For the first time since the tournament began, the Aurora Glass managed to catch him clearly—not as a blur, not as an empty patch of forest littered with corpses, but in full view.

But instead of displaying any earth-shattering techniques or unleashing heaven-splitting power, Kent was… floating lazily. His robes fluttered gently in the mountain breeze as he stood atop his sword, letting a scruffy little creature—a one-eyed bandit beast—lead the way.

The strange beast was restless, its stubby paw pointing again and again toward glittering patches of grass or glowing stones hidden beneath the soil. Every time it pointed, Kent would descend, quietly pluck a treasure, and tuck it into his storage ring.

No combat. No flashy spells. No violent clashes.

The audience began to murmur, then scoff, and soon their jeers filled the air.

“Hah! Is this the so-called ‘threat’ everyone was so afraid of?”

“He’s just blessed with a lucky pet! Any disciple here could do the same!”

“Pathetic… using an animal to do all the work.”

The gambling houses joined the noise, their owners sneering in relief. They had feared Kent might be hiding his true strength, but seeing him simply follow a beast like some humble merchant gathering herbs brought wicked smiles to their faces.

From a private balcony, the owner of the Black Iron Gambling Syndicate leaned forward and laughed.

“This is it! Look at him—no fight in his eyes. He’s soft. Our people will find him soon enough.”

Inside the treasure land, Kent’s pace never changed.

“Guuu…” the one-eyed bandit squeaked, its single gleaming eye spinning with excitement as it pointed toward a large tree which had hundreds of ripened fruits, with mist-like glow.

Kent followed without hesitation, his face calm, even faintly amused. “Alright. Lead the way.” Kent said as they set foot on the ground.

The little beast’s nose twitched furiously as it darted ahead, weaving between boulders, across streams, and through dense thickets of spirit bamboo.

What the audience didn’t realize—and what Kent intended to keep hidden—was that each path the one-eyed bandit chose avoided disciples entirely. The creature was more than just a treasure hunter; its instincts could smell danger from miles away.

Every time Kent approached a ridge or forested slope, the bandit’s ear would flick, and it would abruptly change direction. The result was a journey filled with treasures but devoid of confrontation.

To the gamblers watching, this looked like cowardice.

To Kent, it was a perfect screen.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the treasure land, the disciples secretly bribed by the gambling association searched the valleys and cliffs, eyes sharp, weapons ready.

“He should be nearby!”

“Spread out! We can’t let that rat slip through our hands!”

But Kent’s trail was like mist in the wind—there one second, gone the next. Every time they thought they’d cornered him, they would find only the remnants of freshly plucked herbs or the gaping hole where an ore vein had been stripped bare.

One particularly frustrated assassin disciple slammed his palm against a cliff face.

“How in the nine hells is he moving so fast without fighting anyone?!”

Back at the stands, the gamblers cursed under their breath. Hours passed, and though Kent’s collection-ring grew heavier and heavier, not a single attempt on his life reached him.

The Aurora Glass continued to shift and shimmer, showing other disciples in brutal battles for treasures—blood spraying, weapons clashing—but whenever it landed on Kent, the scene was almost comedic: the one-eyed bandit pointing its paw with pride while Kent calmly bent-down to harvest yet another rare herb.

Each new scene only fueled the ridicule.

“This isn’t skill—it’s luck!”

“If that beast dies, he’s finished!”

“Mark my words, he won’t make it to the next-round!”

Kent, hearing none of it, glanced at the little creature hopping ahead.