The air was still thick with tension when a well-known figure appeared.
He didn't descend with fanfare.
He didn't need to.
The moment he stepped forward from the royal pavilion, the world seemed to pause. The wind stilled. The clouds above parted. Even the heat from the shattered arena seemed to bow before him.
He walked with the grace of a scholar and the silence of a blade. His robes were deep imperial violet, embroidered with golden threads that shimmered like starlight. A long mantle of spirit silk trailed behind him, untouched by dust or flame. His hair, black as obsidian, was tied in a single flowing ribbon that defied gravity, and his eyes—his eyes were ancient.
He looked no older than twenty.
But every step he took whispered of centuries.
Of wars ended with a word.
Of dynasties that rose and fell beneath his gaze.
Of a man who had once stood at the edge of the world and dared it to move.
His presence wasn't loud. It was absolute.
The cultivators in the stands—thousands of them—bowed instinctively. Even those who didn't know why. Even those who couldn't sense his realm. Their bodies moved before their minds caught up.
Because this was not a man.
This was a force.
This was the Emperor of Ember Pearl City. His highness Phillip Ember Pearl.
A peak Imperial Realm cultivator.
The ruler of the continent's heart.
He stepped into the arena, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable. The Erupt family and Shadow Sect patriarchs turned toward him, their auras still simmering, but they bowed.
"Your Majesty," they said in unison.
Simon Flare didn't bow. He simply inclined his head.
The Emperor's gaze swept across the fractured arena, the shattered formations, the unconscious girl in Jalen's arms, and the broken boy bleeding into the stone.
"Enough," he said, his voice calm—but it carried like thunder. "This is not the time for old grudges or hidden vendettas."
He looked at the two patriarchs.
"You are leaders of a great family and sect. You know the weight of your names. But today is not about you. Today is about the younger generation. Let them shine."
The words weren't a suggestion.
They were law.
Denis clenched his jaw, but said nothing. Marcus gave a shallow nod.
With a flick of his sleeve, the Emperor dismissed them.
"Withdraw."
They obeyed—reluctantly.
The Erupt family elders moved to retrieve Jason's body. He was still breathing, but barely. His dantian and core was shattered, his meridians in ruins. His eyes were open, but vacant.
A vegetable.
Their brightest flame—extinguished.
There were methods to restore him, of course. Forbidden arts, ancient pills, soul-forging rituals. But even with the best resources, it would take at least half a year for him to recover and their is not a guarantee he's be at the same realm then.
He would not return to the tournament.
And the Erupt Family would not forget.
The Emperor turned to Jalen.
He studied him—not with hostility, but with the sharpness of a man who had ruled for centuries and seen every kind of genius rise and fall.
Jalen didn't flinch.
He didn't bow.
He simply stood there, holding Rana, his expression unreadable.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed slightly.
He could see through most things. And Jalen's qi was masked well—too well for someone his age. But not well enough.
Not from him.
Not from an Imperial Realm cultivator.
Breath of the Dust is Impressive.
But not invincible.
For it to work against someone like the emperor, Jalen would need to be Peak Moon Realm at least—or an Imperial realm expert himself.
And Jalen was neither.
The Emperor stepped forward.
"I am the Emperor of Ember Pearl City, Phillip," he said, his voice formal but not unkind. "If you don't mind me asking… what is junior's name?"
Jalen opened his mouth to answer—
But Jana Flare stepped in front of him with a graceful bow.
"Your Majesty," she said sweetly. "It's lovely to see you again. This boy, of course, is my son-in-law. Rana's fiancé."
The arena erupted.
Gasps. Murmurs. Outrage. It was bad enough that the boy had kissed her—but to be publicly acknowledged by her mother? That was signature and seal.
Jalen sighed, helpless.
"You shameless woman," he muttered.
"Now is that any way to speak to your mother-in-law?" Jana replied with a smirk.
The Emperor raised an eyebrow—but said nothing.
He wasn't fooled.
This cunning woman had stepped in deliberately. She was shielding the boy. Blocking the question. And doing it with a smile. A subtle way of saying, Don't ask.
A clever move. Crude, but effective. And now the boy had a shield no one could challenge—without declaring war on the Flare Family.
Even the Emperor would have to tread carefully—not out of fear, but to avoid a needless battle that could cost countless lives.
But he couldn't ignore what he'd seen.
A fifteen-year-old Star Realm cultivator.
That defied every law of cultivation.
To reach the Star Realm, one needed centuries. Six hundred years at the earliest. Eight hundred, more often. Even with divine pills and sacred grounds, the body and soul needed time to evolve.
And yet this boy…
This boy spat on all of it.
He was an anomaly.
A threat.
Or a miracle.
The Emperor didn't press further.
But his gaze lingered.
And the storm he saw on the horizon now had a name.