10 Tournament (Part 1)

It was the day of the tournament.

Shura walked onto the stage. The battle stage for the tournament was big and wide. It was wide enough for cultivators to battle it out without any concern for constriction.

Outside the stage was an elevated area where the audiences were watching the fight. It was filled with people. There were at least a thousand people watching the tournament, and that was only a conservative estimate.

His opponent was already on the stage by the time Shura got up there. There weren't any introductions by the referee or any excitement from the audiences. They weren't the stars of today's show.

"Begin!" the referee announced.

Shura's opponent moved. And so did he.

The fight was over in an instant. The opponent was thrown off the stage by Shura's punch.

Shura won that match. And he left the stage. He felt very out of place.

Shura came back to the stage seven more times. He left each time with a single punch. It didn't matter whether the opponent was a Spirit Master or a Spirit Grandmaster. They could only take one punch from him before being defeated and sent flying off the stage.

Each time he felt out of place and strange. He didn't know when this feeling had started exactly, but he felt that he was out of place here, that he didn't belong here. It was true. He wasn't an aboriginal of this continent, of course, he didn't belong here. But why did he feel such a strong sense of rejection?

Did this land reject him? Or was he rejecting it himself? If it was him, then it was strange because it wasn't intentional on his part. Did he do it subconsciously? Was it even possible, and if so, then why?

After fighting eight times he made a breakthrough in battle and became a Spirit Grandmaster. Although he did no more than to punch out once eight times, it was still something. He had long been sitting at the third layer of the Spirit Master level, it was not surprising for him to make a final leap and become a Spirit Grandmaster.

He still practiced the Wrathfire Refinement technique. After having destroyed his core and meridians once with it, the wrathfire flowed along easily and became more integrated with his body this time around. He conjectured that if he destroyed and reforged them again and cultivate with wrathfire again, then his progress would be even faster. Such a method was an extreme method.

It was time for the semi-finals. A young and handsome man with long black hair in black silk robe stood on the battle stage.

"I am Dreyas, you must've heard of me. I advise you to forfeit, or you would be crippled," Dreyas said.

"Dreyas, what name is that? I've never heard of you," Shura replied calmly.

This Dreyas was younger than he was, he looked 17 to 18 years old, but he was already a third layer Spirit Grandmaster. No wonder he was so arrogant, so he was one of those talented children.

Shura glared at Dreyas. 'If those resources that were provided to you were given to me, I'd already be a Spirit Lord, no, a Spirit King!' he thought.

"Hmph! Courting death," Dreyas sneered. With a wave of his hand a long silver spear appeared in his hand.

"Begin!" the referee shouted.

Silver light lit up along the shaft of the spear and focused at the tip, producing a bright silver flash of light.

In that blinding brightness, Shura felt slight danger. The audiences cheered loudly. That was the first time he heard the audience cheer that loudly.

Shura felt a pricking pain in his chest. It was like cold sweat, the spear had not even arrived yet he was already feeling the danger.

Wrathfire covered that spot and burst out throughout his body. Shura dodged to the side.

An instant later a figure clad in white light and a sharp spear shot past where he was a moment ago.

"Were you warning me just about this? You don't look impressive at all. What an empty boast," Shura said, shaking his head.

"It's my turn," Shura said again and clenched his fist.

He punched the empty space in front of him in Dreyas's direction. A large red burning hand made of spirit energy and light appeared in front of him and shot toward the silvery figure.

Dreyas turned around and shot his spear forward as well, intending to pierce through the large hand in front of him.

Shura sneered. 'I have no intention of being held down here, my sight is set further and higher, there's no way I'm going to lose here. I'm going to the realm of the fallen supreme being,' Shura thought.

'My starting point and that of the people of the supreme being's world would be the same. If I could make it big there, then it would be because of my own effort. There's no way I'll embarrass that supreme being by being defeated here.'

Shura's sight was set higher than this planet. He would quickly become a Spirit Sovereign and leave this world with Claira. Only then would he truly face against worthy challenges. He would be able to proudly declare that he was great only if he fought against people on the same level as him.

Shura did not even have Spirit Sovereigns, the highest level on this world in his eyes. It was not his limit, it was only the starting point, a minimum level to travel through the wider universe.

The fist collided with the spear and exploded. Dreyas shot out in black smoke and hit the wall of the arena.

Bam!

His body was stuck deep into the wall, spider-cracks sprea throughout the wall.

The audience was quiet. The referee looked at Dreyas in shock.

"I won," Shura declared to the referee.

"The w-winner is… Shura!" the referee shouted.

A middle-aged man with a sharp look among the audience stared at Shura. "Only a Spirit Grandmaster yet he could materialize spirit energy, this is talent. Only it is a pity that he's too old, he cannot compare to a real genius like Silis."

Shura sensed someone's stare on him and he stared back. He frowned. 'A Spirit King? This is getting interesting.'

Shura's practice of the Wrathfire Refinement technique had reached a stable point. His skin was tough as rock and his bones were as tough as steel. His physical body was very strong. Relying on it alone, he could clash with a Spirit Lord in a battle of pure physical strength.

But of course, he could only equal a Spirit Lord on strength alone only, a Spirit Lord's true capabilities were beyond the level of just physical power. He wasn't confident he would be able to jump levels and fight a Spirit Lord with just physical power alone. He needed an offensive technique to bridge the gap, or even maybe an escape technique when things get ugly.

If a Spirit King intended to do harm to him, then he had to be prepared.

He had only focused on one technique as he had wanted to build a solid foundation for his cultivation. But now that he had some accomplishment in the Wrathfire Refinement technique and reached a bottleneck in it, perhaps he should learn and practice another technique. He now had the time to learn and practice something else.

After all, If someone stronger caught him off guard and all he had to defend himself was simply a stronger cultivation foundation and faster cultivation speed, that would simply be laughable.

This was a world of the strong. He'd need learn a powerful offensive ability next. Offense was the best defense. If he was strong enough, what would he fear? A life-saving ability wasn't bad either.

Shura began to meditate while waiting for the next match. A vast expanse of darkness filled with stars appeared in his mind. Orbs of light, both small, and big floated freely in this space.

These orbs were the memory fragments of the supreme being. He had a vague impression of all these knowledge. He knew that they existed, but not in concrete and specific detail. In order to dive into the fragments and obtain tangible information, it would require a great deal of concentration and effort.

This was, after all, the memory of a supreme being who was a Spirit Saint when he was alive. A being stronger than the strongest being on this planet. A cultivator on the level of a Spirit Saint was too powerful and would be forcefully rejected by the world. They would have to ascend to a higher plane. Failure to do so would result in death.

Shura knew that a Spirit Saint wasn't the most powerful. Beyond the level of a Saint was that of an Immortal, and after that was the level of the Gods. Shura yearned for the peak, the level of a god. He wanted to become the most powerful.

This intense desire stemmed from his own weakness. For the first 18 years of his life, he lived the life of a normal person. In the world of cultivation and strength, he was beneath dogs. People who couldn't cultivate were considered cripples and wastes in the eyes of other cultivators.

It was this reason that made him yearn for the absolute peak of strength very much. 'You all look down on me, huh? Then I'll become a powerful being one day!'

Shura finally found a lone speck of light. It was small but shone with a soft and beautiful blue light. It was very vivid. He reached out with his mind and his mind was flooded with information. It was something that he had vaguely known but only now did it become clear to him.

He had obtained a new technique. No, it wasn't right to call it a technique. He had obtained information relating to the construction and usage of spell formations!

By drawing spell formations and feeding it energy, the caster would be able to cast all sorts of spells. It was a wondrous and wide field full of limitless possibilities.