A day has passed in travel.
The wind that carried Kent and Elder Jill down from the skies was soft, yet carried the weight of destinies not yet written.
Kent stood at the edge of the floating chariot, his robe fluttering gently as the figure of Elder Jill stepped beside him. The two gazed down at the village below, nestled near a thick emerald-green forest. From above, the village looked ordinary—huts clustered in rings, a few spirit smoke chimneys, narrow winding paths—but at its heart was something extraordinary.
A large dueling arena, carved from sacred wood and ancient runes, roared silently with energy. Around it stood hundreds of silent observers, their eyes sharp, breaths held. No noise, no chants. Just pure reverence. For the battle within was one worthy of legends.
Kent’s gaze dropped to the center of the ring. His pupils slightly shrank.
There she was—a figure of utter contradiction and beauty, clothed in soft crimson silks stitched with moonlight silver. Her raven-black hair flowed behind her, adorned with serpent-scale hairpins that shimmered like stars. A long snake-like whip, black as the abyss and veined with glowing emerald lines, swirled in her grip like it was alive.
Her name, whispered by the watching wind, was Rina Lova—the only daughter of the fallen King Teron Lova, now a famed cultivator, whip mistress, and a blazing name on the Golden Heir Tournament list.
“Her movements…” Kent murmured unconsciously.
“Graceful as flowing water, deadly as a divine storm,” Elder Jill finished beside him.
They descended quietly to the village square. The chariot vanished behind them as they walked toward the ring, unnoticed by the awed crowd.
Rina moved like a dancer from the heavens, her every step a floating cloud, her every turn a burst of thunder.
The man fighting her was tall and fierce-looking, garbed in treasure robes and carrying twin axes laced with enchantments, clearly a young master from some wealthy sect. But even he was on the back foot.
Rina’s whip hissed through the air.
One swing, and it became a serpent of fire.
The next, it split into nine bolts of lightning, surrounding her opponent.
Then she spun, placing two fingers over her lips, and blew a kiss—causing the whip to transform into a dozen blooming lotus petals, each petal a deadly slicing wind spell.
“She has refined her spirit, body, and element into one art form. That whip, Serpent Soul Lotus, was bought at the price of a kingdom—three great cities in the East. Her father auctioned them to the Heavenly Immortal Auction House just to gain this Grand Master rank weapon.”
Kent’s eyes stayed fixed on the whip. The clash of spells and crackle of magic seemed to pause whenever she moved.
“And you brought me here… why?” he asked without turning.
Elder Jill’s gaze sharpened. “To show you the sky. You wish to stand in the Golden Heir Tournament? Then you must know the stars you will reach for.”
Kent’s lips parted, but no words came. Rina Lova leapt in a spiraling arc, her whip curling around her like a dragon, then with a flick—BANG!—sent the man flying across the ring. He crashed into the barrier, coughing blood, unconscious.
A respectful silence followed. Then the crowd bowed their heads. Not a single cheer.
It was respect, not celebration.
Rina bowed lightly and left the ring.
As Kent stood silently in thought, Elder Jill placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come. There is more for you to see.”
They walked across the edge of the village, past gardens of green herbs and families who watched with wide, respectful eyes. Soon, they reached a modest two-story house nestled at the edge of the forest.
The house looked nothing like the fallen royalty Kent had imagined. It was plain, but clean. A wooden dragon curled around the upper beam, its eyes glowing softly.
Before Kent could speak, the wooden door opened, and Rina Lova—fresh from battle, but glowing with inner calm—stepped inside.
This time, she wore a flowing pale-blue robe, her whip now coiled at her side like a sleeping pet. Her hair was tied up into a silver vine-knot, and a single sapphire ornament hung from her forehead.
Her eyes met Kent’s—and something shifted. She tilted her head, curious, but said nothing.
She bowed lightly to Elder Jill. “Esteemed Elder, welcome. I did not expect you today.”
“I’m here on business,” Jill said warmly. “And to rest. May we stay the night?”
Rina smiled and turned. “Father!”
From a side room, a man in golden robes entered. His beard was salt and pepper, and his back slightly hunched, but his eyes were clear as spring waters.
“Elder Jill!” Teron Lova beamed. “What a surprise and honor. Our home is always yours. Come in, please, both of you.”
They were led to a sitting room made of smooth redwood and warmed with herb incense. Tea was served by spirit servants shaped like fluttering birds.
As they sat, Rina took a seat nearby but kept watching Kent from the corner of her eye.
Teron chuckled. “I see you’ve caught my daughter’s curiosity.”
Kent smiled politely. “She’s… impressive. Her fighting was unlike anything I’ve seen.”
“She’s made a vow to only marry the one who defeats her. Her enemies double every season, but none have succeeded. Still, she waits.” Teron said glancing at his daughter.
Rina did not comment. Her gaze flickered toward Kent’s side, noticing the spirit pouch, the slight aura beneath his robes, the silent flame in his eyes.
A small smile appeared on her lips—but vanished just as quickly.
“So, Elder Jill,” Teron continued, “what brings you here truly?”
“We are heading to the Nine Cloud Divine Herb Forest,” Jill said. “But I wished for Kent to witness Rina’s fight first. He needs to understand the standard. The sky is wide, Teron. The heavens wider. But the fire in this boy’s fate is… unusual.”
Teron hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, I will arrange things for your rest. Ask me if you need anything.”
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Note: Thank you “@aaaninja” for massage chair.