By midnight, the news of Kent King joining Combat Peak under Master Lao spread like wildfire throughout the Royal Academy.
Whispers echoed in training halls, dormitories, and even the alchemy and mage peaks.
“A mere alchemist stepping into combat?” Some sneered in disbelief.”Master Lao personally accepted him? Impossible!”
Others were utterly shocked.Many started digging into Kent’s origins, eager to learn more about this rising figure.
By dawn, the entire academy buzzed with one question: Who exactly is Kent King?
–
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a cold glow over the Combat Peak. Deep within the Hua Family’s quarters, a group of disciples sat in a dimly lit hall, their expressions dark with anger and frustration.
“That bastard Kent—he actually joined the Combat Peak under Master Lao!” one of them spat, slamming his fist on the wooden table.
“Not just that,” another disciple, Hua Ren, sneered. “Master Lao personally took Kent as his disciple!”
Hua Jing, still nursing his wounded pride from his defeat at the slave village, glared at them all. “That damn bastard humiliated us in public, and now he’s climbing higher. If we don’t crush him now, he’ll step over all of us!”
“But he’s under Master Lao’s protection now,” one disciple hesitated. “If we openly challenge him and lose, we’ll look even worse!”
Hua Jing smirked. “We don’t have to fight him directly. We’ll use the rules against him.”
The others leaned in, intrigued.
“We have numbers. We’ll harass him every day, every moment, during training. He’ll be forced to fight back eventually. And when he does—” Hua Jing’s grin widened, “—he’ll get expelled for breaking the peak’s discipline rules.”
A wicked laugh echoed through the hall as they finalized their plan.
–-
The morning sun blazed over the Combat Peak training grounds, casting long shadows of the towering disciples who stood in neat formations, their expressions sharp and filled with hostility. Kent stood alone at the edge of the field, his presence an anomaly among the seasoned combat disciples. Their eyes, brimming with disdain, bore into him like sharpened daggers.
“Look at him,” one of the disciples sneered. “A pison pauper playing warrior. Does he think swinging a sword is the same as stirring a cauldron?”
Laughter rippled through the ranks, but Kent remained silent, his expression calm. He had expected this. Among combat disciples, strength was everything, and his reputation as an alchemist had already marked him as an outsider.
“Maybe he should go back to brewing poisons,” another voice mocked. “At least then he wouldn’t embarrass himself.”
Kent ignored the jeers. Instead, he focused on the morning drills, following the routine of strikes, footwork, and body movements. But it soon became evident that he was lagging behind. His footwork lacked the fluidity of his peers, and his strikes didn’t carry the same devastating force. The gap between them was painfully clear, and the disciples fed off his struggles, hurling more insults.
Yet, rather than growing frustrated, Kent did something unexpected—he laughed. A genuine, deep laugh that echoed across the training ground, making everyone pause.
“What’s so funny?” a senior disciple barked.
“The clowns on this peak!” Kent replied in a sarcastic tone.
A hush fell over the crowd. His words enraged teh Hua family disciples.
At that moment, a deep chuckle broke through the silence. Peak Master Lao, standing at the forefront, observed Kent with an amused glint in his eyes. “Interesting mindset,” he remarked. “Since you’re so eager to show off, step forward.”
Kent obeyed, standing before Lao, who unsheathed his long, dark sword. “Watch closely,” Lao instructed. “This is the first style of the Night King Sword Art.”
In a single motion, Lao executed a flawless arc, his sword carving through the air with a silent, deadly grace. The movement was both elegant and devastating, filled with precision and overwhelming power. The air around him seemed to tremble with the sheer weight of his technique.
“Now, repeat it.” Lao sheathed his sword and gestured for Kent to try.
The disciples smirked, expecting Kent to fumble through the technique. But what happened next left them stunned.
Kent took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing in focus. Then, without hesitation, he moved—his blade tracing the exact arc Lao had demonstrated. Every muscle, every angle, every shift of weight—it was identical to the Peak Master’s execution. The sheer accuracy sent a ripple of disbelief through the watching disciples.
Lao’s brows lifted slightly, his amusement deepening. “Again.”
Kent repeated the motion, and once more, it was flawless.
Silence swallowed the training ground. No one spoke, no one laughed. The disciples who had ridiculed him minutes ago now stared at him in shock. Even the senior members of the peak had to admit—what they had just witnessed was unheard of.
Lao let out a deep chuckle. “You have an interesting talent, Kent. Not many can mimic sword techniques with such precision after seeing them only once.”
Without another word, he reached into his robes and pulled out a worn, dark-covered manual. He tossed it toward Kent, who caught it instinctively.
“The second and third styles of the Night King Sword Art,” Lao announced. “Memorize them.”
The disciples gasped. Receiving such a manual was a privilege few earned. For someone like Kent—an outsider—to be handed it so casually was a statement in itself.
Kent looked at the manual, then back at Lao. With a small bow, he said, “I will not disappoint you, Master.”
“I will not disappoint you, master. But the sword is not my primary weapon. I would be glad to receive any good manual related to my primary weapon.” Kent said with a serious look.
Master Lao was utterly surprised after hearing this. But he didn’t show it on face. “I’m going to white mountain. Meet me after seven days. I will satisfy your wish.”
After a grueling morning of combat training at Combat Peak, Kent wiped the sweat off his brow and prepared to head back to Poison Peak. However, as he soared over the city, a thought struck him. He had never properly explored the famed markets of Kulu Capital. With a smirk, he changed direction and landed at the bustling marketplace.