SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

Late night…

The moon hung like a cold silver eye over the Immortal Living Pool Academy, casting long shadows over the ancient steps, silent halls, and sacred arenas. But silence did not mean stillness.

A storm brewed in the hearts of the disciples.

The Prime Disciple Selection Competition—an event whispered about for years—was now only a night away.

And with it came not only ambition, but schemes, envy, and hunger.

–

In the vast courtyard of the Flame Spirit Training Grounds, sparks flew as Yi Zhao danced between molten stones. His shirtless form shimmered with sweat, veins glowing with heat, as he practiced the Twin Sun Merge Technique. Two balls of radiant fire rotated around his arms like miniature suns. His eyes were bloodshot from over-exhaustion.

A servant offered him water. He slapped it away.

“Not until I master the third phase. If I must burn, I’ll burn to win!”

–

Deep within a spiritual cavern of icy crystals, Lady Mu Yang sat cross-legged on a floating crystal platform. Her breath was shallow, her expression divine, her robe fluttering as she stabilized her new breakthrough—Late Earth Immortal Wizard stage. She had not moved in days, but her aura grew colder and sharper with every passing hour.

Outside the cavern, her maidservant stood vigil.

“The Young Miss is silent, but the spirit around her feels like a mountain of frost,” the maid whispered. “If she moves tomorrow, many hearts will shatter.”

In a hidden training hall soaked in moonlight, Zi Han performed the Twin Blade Dance, each swing sharp enough to split air. Sword lights crisscrossed around him like constellations in battle. His master stood behind him, nodding in satisfaction.

“Zi Han, don’t go for the top spot—go for the kill. Don’t let the others show mercy.”

Zi Han smiled faintly, sheathing his blades with a single twist.

“They’ll call it a competition. I’ll show them a blood duel.”

–

Elsewhere, in the alchemy chambers of the Earth Dome Pavilion, Wu Shen greedily consumed glowing pills—his skin flickered with earthy runes.

“More! I need more grounding stones!” he yelled at the junior alchemists nearby.

His elder frowned. “You’ve consumed enough to sustain ten cultivators. If you rupture your veins—”

“Let them rupture!” Wu Shen snapped. “If I can crush everyone tomorrow and become Prime Disciple, I’ll buy a new set of veins!”

–

Even Li Bo, long mocked as a weakling, was now the center of his own small crowd. In the open dueling grounds, he broke the arm of a senior disciple with a Bronze Mountain Fist, sending the crowd into whispers.

“That technique… has matured,” someone murmured.

“Don’t ignore Li Bo. He’s a wild card this year.”

Li Bo wiped the blood off his knuckles and grinned.

“Let them underestimate me just one more day.”

–

Inside the private halls of the elders, tension was no less.

Several elders had already marked their champion, secretly passing them rare pills, spiritual items, and talismans.

“I want results,” Elder Ming growled. “We’ve shamed the academy for too long. This year, no more failures.”

“What about Kent?” another elder asked, sipping his tea.

“That boy is nowhere to be seen,” Elder Yun scoffed. “Who knows if he’ll even show up.”

Only Elder Liam remained silent, his gaze distant as if watching a different battlefield altogether.

And above, the academy lanterns lit the dark sky.

Tomorrow, only one would emerge as the Prime Disciple.

But tonight, everyone believed they still had a chance.

–

Immortal Living Pool…

It was silent.

Timeless.

Still.

And within that silence… a single figure stood.

Balanced delicately on the tip of his toe, Kent’s eyes remained shut, his robes gently swaying with the rhythm of the ethereal breeze that circled the underground sanctuary. His body was motionless, but within—an ancient storm brewed.

Countless silver raindrops fell continuously from the unseen sky above the Immortal Living Pool, descending like threads of fate. For nearly a month, he had stood before this celestial rain. He had battled it with spells. Avoided it with speed. Measured it with logic.

But all his mortal understanding had failed.

So now, he surrendered. The enlightenment began granting answers to the secrets of the immortal living pool.

He no longer moved like a man fighting to break through.

He moved as if he was part of the rainfall.

Like a shadow in rain.

–

Inside his spiritual sea, the world had become translucent.

He was every drop, and yet he was none.

One drop glided past his shoulder. Another slipped beside his cheek. One split into two as it descended over his arm, and still, he remained untouched.

He flowed through them.

He passed with them.

Every time a raindrop approached, he did not resist.

He allowed.

He danced.

He merged.

“Rain does not resist the wind… it follows.

A single drop does not ask for a path… it becomes the path,” a voice echoed within him.

Kent’s heart responded—not in words, but in essence.

Suddenly, everything fell into place.

Enlightenment blossomed.

A whirl of wind rushed upward from his feet, swirling like a spiral dragon of light. His body, once rooted like stone, now hovered half an inch above the ground. Still balanced on a single toe, he looked like a celestial stork frozen in motion.

The next moment—he moved.

But this was not movement born of muscle or cultivation technique.

This was a transcendental flow.

He slowly opened his eyes and slightly flexed his body.

Kent’s figure vanished from the lakeside and reappeared amidst the rain.

Not a single drop touched him.

Not one trembled from its path.

And yet, he slid between them with the grace of a whisper, like a spirit in water.

He had become the very essence of rain.

As he advanced, his presence became fainter, less physical, more ethereal—like mist. Like vapor.

He drifted across the sky-blue surface of the sacred pool, crossing the impossible distance between the shore and the central lotus.

Every step he took was a miracle of stillness within motion.

The rain welcomed him.

At the center, the grand lotus bloomed with divine glory. One thousand and eight golden petals shimmered like the crown of an immortal throne.

Seated upon it, the Water Goddess, sculpted from liquid light and divine will, watched in eternal stillness. She appeared serene, closed-eyed, her body made of shimmering water, skin glowing with the hues of moon and starlight.

But the moment Kent’s foot softly touched the central lotus leaf—her eyes opened.

Two crystalline orbs stared at him. No words were spoken, but an ancient will surged.

The Goddess raised her hand and touched his forehead.

A tide of knowledge flowed into Kent’s mind like a heavenly river. In that moment, he understood.

“You have not learned to walk through rain,” the Goddess’s voice echoed softly in his soul.

“You have become rain itself. You are worthy of the first secret—the Art of the Immortal Raider.”

The rain above the pool ceased.

Not a single drop fell.

Time stopped for one breath.

And Kent stood at the center of it all—not as a student, not as a disciple.

But as a raindrop that had become divine.

–

Next Day Morning…

The grand Fighting Arena of the Immortal Living Pool Academy buzzed with energy. Situated deep within a valley embraced by sacred mountains, the arena could host tens of thousands—and today, it was filled to the brim.

Waves of disciples, dressed in robes of various colors representing their sect affiliations and peaks, filled the tiered stands. The younger ones clutched talismans, shouting names and waving flags. The older ones observed with narrowed eyes, their hearts burning with ambition. After all, the Prime Disciple Selection Tournament was not just a battle—it was a coronation.

One by one, thirteen elders took their places on the raised stone platform to the east. They wore robes embroidered with the sigils of their lineage and mastery—blazing swords, frozen lotuses, twin suns, and more. Each stood behind the disciple they had personally chosen and trained for this moment.

All, except one.

Elder Liam’s platform was empty.

A faint murmur passed through the crowd.

“Why hasn’t Elder Liam brought his disciple?”

“Wasn’t he the one who proposed this whole competition?”

“I heard he selected someone… what was the name? Kent King?”

The name stirred mild interest among the senior disciples but little awe. Unlike the well-known stars—Zi Han, Mu Yang, Yi Zhao—Kent was still an enigma to most.

High above the fighting arena, floating on a cloud platform, the Headmaster of the Immortal Living Pool Academy sat cross-legged, surrounded by a translucent shield. He observed everything quietly, letting the elders conduct the tournament.

Elder Yi, a hawk-eyed woman in crimson robes, turned toward Liam’s empty platform.

“Senior Liam… where is your chosen disciple?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Surely you haven’t backed out?”

A few elders chuckled lightly, but Elder Liam remained composed.

“He will come,” Liam said calmly, hands behind his back.

“The competition won’t wait for shadows,” barked Elder Zhou, voice booming across the arena. “We’ve waited long enough. If your disciple lacks courage, let us begin.”

Elder Mu of the Ice Feather Peak nodded solemnly.

“Agreed. Time waits for no one. The rest have prepared for weeks. We cannot delay further.”

With that, the decision was made.

The Headmaster raised his palm, and a gong thundered across the arena like the roar of a divine beast.

BOOM!

A wave of spiritual energy exploded into the air, and the entire arena went silent.

A golden disc rose from the center of the stage, expanding to form the main dueling platform. Engraved with formation lines and glowing with runes, it hovered in the air, awaiting battle.

A black-robed elder stepped forward and announced:

“Today, we begin the tournament to determine the Prime Disciple of the Immortal Living Pool Academy—the one who shall bear our pride in the upcoming Golden Heir Tournament.”

“Thirteen disciples will compete. The last one standing shall be crowned.”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Mu Yang, calm and composed in sky-blue robes, opened her eyes from meditation and stepped forward.

Yi Zhao, his robe flaring with twin sun patterns, stretched his arms with smirking confidence.

Zi Han twirled his twin blades behind his back, wind swirling around him like a dance partner.

Wu Shen, face calm but body crackling with earth energy, nodded to his master.

Even Li Bo, the underdog, jumped lightly and slammed his fists together, sending minor tremors across the stone floor.

Every participant had prepared for this moment with blood, sweat, and ambition.

And yet—the 13th platform remained empty.

Elder Liam stood alone.

And the name Kent King remained a silent whisper in the minds of those watching.

The first match was called.

Mu Yang walked up the stage, her figure like a frozen orchid blooming in ice.

“Let the battle… begin!”

The competition had started.

–

Thank you 😉