Sovereign of Stolen Fate

The makeshift arena, a simple raised wooden platform surrounded wooden fencing, stood ready for the upcoming battles. It represented both hope and danger, a place where fortunes shifted and reputations were forged.

Jin Ye lingered quietly at the edge of the bustling crowd, eyes calmly scanning his surroundings. He noted the villagers' expressions—some eager, others tense—as whispers flowed freely among them. Their conversations occasionally drifted toward him.

A younger villager said "I still don't buy it. Jin Ye was nothing more than a joke a few weeks ago. One lucky win and now people think he's some expert?" 

Another older Craftsman "Luck? Maybe but tell me how many people have you seen go from weak to strong overnight? There's something different about him. I don't know what, but i'd wager today will show us."

Another Villager "It's not just about strength, The mayor won't let another humiliation happen. If Jin Ye doesn't watch himself, this tournament could turn ugly and quickly."

Jin Ye paid them no mind, he knew the words of these villagers meant nothing. He was more focused on the disciple of the Azure Sky Sect, wondering what he had in store for him.

Seated near the platform, Mayor Wei Tian at the 8th stage of Qi Refinement presided over the event with an air of authoritative expectation, his gaze stern and unwavering. Beside him stood Elder Ming, a powerful cultivator in his own right. At the seventh stage of Qi Refinement, Elder Ming was renowned for his fairness and skill, an ideal judge to oversee this tournament.

Elder Ming stepped forward, his commanding voice resonating clearly through the square, silencing all murmurs. "Today's tournament is to demonstrate your skills and discipline. Remember, these matches are meant to be friendly exchanges. Severe injuries or deaths will not be tolerated. However, we understand blades and fists have no eyes—I will intervene only if necessary."

His final words hung heavily in the air, a gentle yet firm warning that everyone present understood clearly.

Across from Jin Ye, Wei Rong waited arrogantly, a faint smirk on his lips. His confidence was bolstered significantly, evident even to casual observers. He met Jin Ye's gaze briefly, his eyes gleaming with disdainful arrogance. Wei Rong stepped onto the platform with a flourish, clearly intending to assert his dominance immediately.

"First challenger, Zhao Fen," Elder Ming called clearly. A young cultivator at the third stage of Qi Refinement stepped onto the platform, visibly nervous yet determined. He steadied himself, meeting Wei Rong's gaze with cautious resolve.

"Begin!" Elder Ming commanded sharply.

Without hesitation, Wei Rong surged forward, his Qi flaring violently. As he moved, his footwork became a blur, vanishing and reappearing in front of Zhao Fen in an instant—Phantom Serpent Step.

Before Zhao Fen could fully react, Wei Rong's right fist ignited with a crimson glow, his Qi condensing into a spiraling force around his knuckles. The air twisted as he executed his technique—Crimson Fang Strike—a vicious, blow designed to pierce through defenses like a beast sinking its fangs into prey.

Zhao Fen barely had time to cross his arms defensively, but the moment Wei Rong's punch landed, a deafening crack echoed across the platform. His Qi barrier fractured instantly, the sheer impact traveling through his arms, sending a shockwave through his body. His eyes widened in horror before his feet left the ground—his body flung like a ragdoll across the arena.

The crowd gasped as Zhao Fen crashed onto the wooden stage with a sickening thud, completely unconscious. The force of the impact left a deep dent in the arena floor, splinters scattering beneath his limp form.

Wei Rong lowered his smoking fist, a satisfied smirk creeping across his face, his newfound strength undeniable.

"This is the difference between us Jin Ye, just wait." he sneered, turning away from Zhao Fen's fallen body as the murmurs of the stunned crowd filled the air.

Elder Ming quickly checked Zhao Fen, declaring calmly yet gravely, "Wei Rong wins."

Wei Rong stepped down confidently, proudly reveling in the fearful admiration of the crowd. As he passed Jin Ye, he paused briefly, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Luck won't save you this time."

Jin Ye just let out a low chuckle "I'm shaking in my boots."

"Next challenger!" Elder Ming called decisively.

Without hesitation, Jin Ye calmly stepped onto the platform. The villagers' murmurs intensified.

"Is Jin Ye serious? Wei Rong almost killed Zhao Fen!" one worried villager whispered anxiously.

"He might regret this decision," another agreed, shaking his head in concern. Yet others watched Jin Ye thoughtfully, curious to see if his recent victory was more than mere luck.

Opposite Jin Ye, Li Heng took his position on the platform. At the third stage of Qi Refinement, Li Heng was confident in his abilities but knew he was no match against Wei Rong after witnessing Wei Rong's brutal strength. He assessed Jin Ye carefully, determination evident in his stance.

"Begin!" Elder Ming's voice sharply cut through the tension-filled silence.

Li Heng lunged forward, his Qi flaring brilliantly, rippling across his palm as he executed Rending Tiger Strike, a technique known for its tearing force. The air around his hand vibrated violently, forming clawed energy projections that swiped through the air, aiming directly for Jin Ye's chest.

But Jin Ye was already moving.

With practiced ease, he stepped aside, his Moonlit Phantom Steps activating in a fluid motion. His form flickered slightly, his footwork erasing his presence for the briefest instant—like a shadow dancing in the moonlight. Li Heng's strike cut through empty air, meeting only a ghostly afterimage of Jin Ye, who had already appeared at his blind spot.

Li Heng's face contorted frustration clear to see, his attacks becoming more aggressive. He pivoted sharply, unleashing a rapid Tiger's Fang Barrage, a flurry of Qi-infused palm strikes, each carrying the strength to shatter stone. Yet, Jin Ye moved like a ghost at night, slipping through every opening, each step effortlessly guiding him away from Li Heng's barrage.

Below, the growing whispers turned from doubt to awe.

"Look at Jin Ye's movements," a young woman murmured softly, eyes wide with disbelief. "He's so precise… is this truly the same Jin Ye?"

Jin Ye remained calm, patient, analyzing Li Heng's every move. He could see the imperfections—the momentary hesitations, the minor lapses in defense left open after each failed strike.

And then, in an instant, Jin Ye struck.

Qi surged through his fingertips as he executed Scorching Palm, his hand glowing with a faint red-hot aura. He redirected Li Heng's final attack mid-motion, deflecting it just enough to throw his opponent off balance. With a single, decisive palm thrust to the shoulder, heat pulsed through the impact zone, sending a burning shock through Li Heng's meridians.

Li Heng stumbled back, eyes widening in shock as a residual burn mark formed on his shoulder, pain flashing across his face. His breath came in ragged pants, his arms trembling slightly.

Jin Ye straightened, his expression unreadable but firm.

"Surrender," he advised, his voice steady—not a request, but a command.

Li Heng hesitated, his body still tingling from the force of the blow. He could already feel his Qi flow disrupted, the heat lingering from the technique making further battle a reckless gamble.

Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he nodded reluctantly.

"I surrender."

The villagers erupted into animated conversation, excitement blending with astonishment.

"Incredible! Jin Ye defeated Li Heng so easily! Perhaps he truly is skilled after all," a middle-aged man exclaimed, admiration clear in his voice.

As Jin Ye stepped from the platform, he maintained his outward calm, but inwardly, excitement surged through him. At the moment of Li Heng's defeat, he clearly felt the strange, mysterious power within him stirring, warmer and more vivid than ever. This sensation confirmed his suspicion: each decisive victory brought him subtle but tangible increases in strength, absorbing something vital from his defeated opponents.

Wei Rong stood nearby, observing Jin Ye's victory with barely concealed contempt, yet a shadow of unease briefly flickered in his eyes. His earlier confidence slightly waned, replaced momentarily by doubt.

The villagers eagerly anticipated the inevitable confrontation between Jin Ye and Wei Rong, each now recognized as powerful in his own right. A clear tension lingered, building steadily as everyone sensed that the true test was fast approaching. Soon, they would witness whose strength was genuine, and whose was merely an illusion.