Chapter 18: The Gathering Storm

The air inside the Heavenly Sword Sect was thick with tension. The Grand Ranking Tournament was only a few days away, and every disciple—whether outer or inner—was pushing themselves beyond their limits.

For Jiang Cheng, however, his training was already complete. His body had endured the lightning baptism of Thunder Valley, his meridians were tempered, and his qi flowed smoother than ever.

Now, he had only one thing left to do—observe his competition.

---

The Tournament Grounds

Jiang Cheng arrived at the sect's main arena, where dozens of disciples had gathered. Many were engaged in practice duels, their weapons clashing and qi techniques flaring.

From the elevated stone platform, Jiang Cheng scanned the crowd.

His gaze quickly settled on a familiar figure—Mo Tian.

Dressed in black robes embroidered with crimson thread, Mo Tian stood with his arms crossed, watching two disciples duel before him. His expression was unreadable, but Jiang Cheng noticed something disturbing.

Their attacks… are slowing down?

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. The two disciples fighting beneath Mo Tian were sweating profusely, their movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated. It was as if their strength was being drained.

Mo Tian smirked.

With a simple wave of his hand, both disciples collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

Jiang Cheng clenched his fists.

So it's true. He has a forbidden technique… one that steals vitality.

Mo Tian turned his head slightly, as if sensing Jiang Cheng's gaze. Their eyes met. For a brief moment, the air between them became heavy, charged with an invisible tension.

Then, Mo Tian chuckled and looked away, as if Jiang Cheng wasn't worth his time.

Jiang Cheng exhaled slowly.

"Enjoy your arrogance while you can," he muttered.

---

New Allies and Old Rivalries

As Jiang Cheng turned away, a familiar voice called out to him.

"You saw it too, didn't you?"

He turned to see Zhao Lan, Wu Fei, and Lu Chen approaching.

Zhao Lan's cold eyes flickered toward Mo Tian before returning to Jiang Cheng. "Whatever technique he's using… it's dangerous. If we face him unprepared, we'll lose."

Wu Fei nodded, tightening his grip on his spear. "I heard rumors that his techniques come from a forbidden sect. But the elders haven't intervened, which means there's no proof."

Lu Chen scoffed. "Even without forbidden techniques, he's already at the peak of the Core Formation Realm. We'd be fools to take him lightly."

Jiang Cheng listened carefully. His new allies weren't wrong—Mo Tian was strong, perhaps even stronger than expected.

But he wasn't invincible.

"I don't care what techniques he has," Jiang Cheng said, his voice calm but firm. "If he stands in my way, I'll defeat him."

The others exchanged glances. Then, to Jiang Cheng's surprise, Lu Chen smirked.

"Heh. You're bold, I'll give you that," Lu Chen said. "But don't get ahead of yourself. If we're all entering this tournament, we'll be facing each other too."

Jiang Cheng chuckled. "I look forward to it."

With that, the group dispersed, each disciple returning to their own preparations.

But Jiang Cheng knew one thing for certain—the tournament wouldn't just be a battle for ranking. It would be a battlefield of hidden agendas and deadly ambitions.

---

A Mysterious Warning

That night, as Jiang Cheng walked back to his courtyard, a sudden chill ran down his spine.

His instincts screamed at him—danger!

He stopped, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. The wind blew softly, rustling the leaves.

And then…

A shadow moved.

From the darkness, an old man in tattered robes emerged, his face hidden beneath a hood. His presence was weak, like that of a dying man—yet Jiang Cheng knew better than to underestimate him.

The old man stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

"The winds of fate shift, young one," he murmured. "A storm is coming… and blood will stain the heavens."

Jiang Cheng's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

The old man chuckled. "A mere wanderer, nothing more." He took a step forward. "But heed my warning, child… Do not trust those who hide in the light, and do not underestimate those who dwell in the dark."

Jiang Cheng remained silent.

The old man sighed. "When the moon turns red, your greatest trial shall begin."

And just like that, the old man vanished—as if he had never been there.

Jiang Cheng exhaled, gripping his sword tightly.

What does he mean…?

One thing was clear. The tournament was only the beginning.

And the true storm was yet to come.

---