Chapter 718 – "The Man Without a Realm"
The crystal sphere slowed its spin one last time for the round.
"And for our final duel of the day," the announcer's voice boomed, "Alex of the Heavenly Sect… versus… a disciple of the True Void Sect!"
From the Heavenly Sect's section, Alex rose without hurry, the plain black mask still concealing his face. He stepped forward, each footfall unhurried yet carrying him to the arena's center as though the crowd's noise didn't exist.
The moment he crossed the barrier line, murmurs began to ripple through the audience. Spectators leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"Wait… I can't sense his cultivation level."
"Is he… just an ordinary person?"
"Impossible. Not in a tournament like this."
For most, the answer seemed obvious: the man must have no cultivation at all, perhaps a token participant to fill the Heavenly Sect's numbers. But in the elevated seating reserved for the great sect masters and elders, the reactions were sharper, more calculating.
Old eyes followed his every step. They knew better.
The Celestial Dragon Sect Master's gaze narrowed slightly. Concealed. Perfectly concealed. Even my divine sense can't pierce it.
The Frost Moon Palace Sect Master's fingers tightened faintly on her chair's armrest. No fluctuations… no leaks… but the pressure in the air shifted when he entered.
Even the Blood Moon Sect Master, notorious for his disdain toward subtlety, frowned in thought. That's no weakling.
And among them, one pair of eyes burned hotter than all the rest.
Elder Mei Suhua of the Emerald Jade Sect leaned forward in her seat, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on the masked figure below. Her tongue slid across her lips slowly, the faintest smirk curling the corner of her mouth.
"I finally found it," she murmured to herself, low enough that only those beside her might hear. Her voice dripped with satisfaction, like a huntress sighting the prey she'd tracked for years.
Her sect master glanced at her sidelong. "Found… what?"
She didn't answer — her eyes never left Alex.
The announcer's hand came down. "Begin!"
The True Void Sect disciple moved instantly, a blur of motion as void-tinged qi gathered along the edge of his curved blade. Space rippled faintly around him, the distortion warping light itself — a technique meant to bypass defenses and strike directly at the core.
Alex did not move.
The first slash tore through the air with a hiss, the blade's edge passing so close to Alex's neck that the crowd collectively drew a breath. But instead of the sound of steel biting flesh, there was only a dull thunk — as though the strike had hit something far denser than bone.
The ripple of distorted space collapsed uselessly against him.
The True Void disciple's eyes widened. Without hesitation, he shifted his footwork, chaining three more strikes in rapid succession. Each came from a different angle — shoulder, ribs, thigh — each backed by killing intent that would have felled a lesser Eternal Throne cultivator instantly.
Alex did not raise a hand.
He did not even tilt his head.
The sword blows landed against his body like rain on iron. Sparks flared where the blade met his robes, yet not even the fabric tore. The masked figure remained utterly still, the only movement the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Gasps rippled through the arena.
"What… what is he made of?"
"Even True Void techniques can't bypass his defense?"
"That's not possible!"
In the stands, Elder Mei Suhua's eyes glimmered with something between hunger and excitement. "So… it is you," she whispered, gripping the armrest so tightly her knuckles whitened.
Down in the arena, the True Void disciple's attacks became almost frantic. He poured more qi into his blade, the air distorting wildly, thin cracks of light flickering in the barrier walls as the void energy pushed its limits. He spun into a final overhead slash meant to cleave Alex in two.
The blade struck.
The arena shook.
And Alex… still had not moved.
The force of the disciple's own attack rebounded, throwing him back several steps. His boots scraped across the stone floor, teeth gritted against the shock running through his arms. His weapon trembled, hairline fractures spiderwebbing along the edge from the impact.
Alex finally tilted his head slightly, as though studying an insect that had crawled too close. His voice, calm and unhurried, carried clearly through the stunned silence.
"Are you finished?"
The crowd erupted in a mixture of awe, disbelief, and rising excitement. For the first time in the match, the True Void disciple hesitated — because in that moment, he realized he hadn't even scratched the man before him.
And Alex still hadn't taken a single step.
The True Void disciple steadied his breathing, trying to think of a way through the unmoving wall before him. His eyes darted, seeking an opening, but the man in the mask might as well have been a statue carved from the arena floor itself.
Alex, behind the mask, was already elsewhere — in his mind.
The magic formula unfolded in perfect clarity, lines of runic geometry spiraling into a lattice, each symbol locking into place with the ease of long practice. No hand seals, no spoken incantations. Just thought.
This should be enough, he decided silently. Only the Law of Ice. If I add the Law of Mana, it might kill him outright.
A whisper of intent, and the air changed.
The biting cold came first — a sudden, piercing frost that dropped the arena's temperature in an instant. Frost bloomed across the polished stone, racing outward from Alex's feet in crystalline tendrils. The True Void disciple froze mid-step, his breath catching as ice mist poured from his lips.
The chill deepened, layering itself in waves that gnawed through qi defenses like winter through thin cloth. In less than a heartbeat, the frost had climbed his boots, his legs, his waist — jagged and unyielding.
The crowd gasped as a visible shimmer of cold pushed against the barrier walls. Even outside, people rubbed their arms, shivering despite the summer sun overhead.
Up in the sect master's pavilion, several great elders shifted uncomfortably.
"…Did the temperature just drop?" the Celestial Dragon Sect Master murmured.
"It's leaking through the barrier," the Frost Moon Palace Sect Master said, eyes narrowing. That's not ordinary ice qi…
On the far left, Elder Mei Suhua exhaled a long, slow breath, her lips curving in satisfaction. She could feel it too — a density to the cold, a precision beyond any mortal ice technique. But she, like all the rest, had no name for what she was sensing.
No one here knew about the Law.
Back on the arena floor, the frost surged to the True Void disciple's shoulders, locking him in place like an insect in amber. His sword hand trembled before freezing solid, the blade encased in perfect, glassy ice. Only his eyes moved now, wide with disbelief and the first edge of panic.
The crowd had fallen into a hush, all eyes locked on the masked man who had done this without lifting a finger.
Alex's voice was quiet, almost conversational. "This is mercy."
The ice stopped just shy of his opponent's throat, the cold so intense the air around it fractured into drifting snowflakes. The duel was over. And still… no one knew how.
For a long moment, the arena was silent except for the faint crackle of frost. The True Void disciple stood locked in the frozen sculpture Alex had made of him, his breath a thin mist trapped between clenched teeth.
The announcer, recovering from the shock, finally raised his voice — though even amplified by the arena arrays, it carried a note of disbelief.
"V–Victory… Alex of the Heavenly Sect!"
The declaration seemed to break whatever trance had fallen over the crowd. A wave of gasps, murmurs, and shouts rolled through the stands, everyone speaking at once.
"How did he—?"
"He never even moved!"
"What kind of ice technique freezes a man like that in seconds?"
Up in the high seats, several sect masters leaned toward one another, quietly trading observations, though none could explain what they had seen. Even the Frost Moon Palace Sect Master, famed for her mastery of cold arts, felt the prickle of unease at the memory of that biting chill.
In the Emerald Jade Sect's section, Elder Mei Suhua's smirk widened, her eyes never leaving the masked figure. Yes… there's no mistake now.
Alex stood exactly where he had at the start, lowering his gaze briefly to his immobilized opponent. A flicker of will, and the frost receded in neat, crystalline layers, freeing the man without a single cut or bruise.
Then, without acknowledging the roar of the audience, Alex turned and walked back toward the Heavenly Sect's seats, each step measured, unhurried, as though nothing remarkable had happened at all.
Among the countless voices and stares following Alex's slow return to the Heavenly Sect's section, one pair of eyes lingered longer than most.
Lan Xueya.
She stood with her fellow Frost Moon Palace disciples, her expression schooled into its usual calm, but inside, the ice in her chest felt… fractured. She had always looked down on men — not out of spite alone, but from a lifetime in a sect that preached male inferiority, from years of duels where no man could match her mastery of ice.
But the scene she had just witnessed refused to fit that belief.
She had faced Yu Mei moments ago and been utterly outclassed, yet at least she could see the swordplay, feel the weight of the strikes. With this man… she had seen nothing. No movement, no stance, no technique — just a sudden, crushing cold that froze an elite disciple of the True Void Sect as easily as breathing.
Her hand tightened on the edge of her sleeve, nails digging into the fabric. That… wasn't swordsmanship. That wasn't even the same ice I've trained my whole life to master.
For the first time, Lan Xueya realized she wasn't just curious about the Heavenly Sect's masked fighter. She was unsettled — because deep down, she suspected that if she had been the one standing in the True Void disciple's place, the result would have been no different.