Chapter 298: Grand Marshal Vane

Chapter 298: Chapter 298: Grand Marshal Vane

King Aurelius’s words still hung in the air when the sky cracked open.

A sonic boom ripped across the arena, so violent that the protective barriers flickered and the crowd clutched their ears.

Every head snapped upward as a streak of blood-platinum light tore through the clouds like a falling star.

Damon’s Incubus Celestial Eyes activated instinctively.

He tracked the descent.

The figure was moving faster than any cultivator he had seen outside of Mei.

The trajectory was precise, aimed directly at the center stage where King Aurelius had stood moments ago.

’Saint Spirit Realm. Ninth Level.’

Damon’s jaw tightened.

The impact should have shattered the arena.

Instead, the figure landed with absolute silence.

Zero shockwave.

Zero dust.

Zero vibration.

The stone beneath his boots didn’t even crack.

Damon’s eyes narrowed.

’He dissipated the force before it could happend.’

That wasn’t just control.

That was mastery beyond anything Damon had witnessed in this world.

The figure straightened.

He was massive.

Two and a half meters of muscle encased in blood-platinum armor that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

The armor was scarred with countless battle marks, each one a story of violence survived.

In his right hand, he carried a halberd.

The Halberd of Order.

Its blade was wider than Damon’s torso, and its shaft was inscribed with formation scripts that pulsed with a deep, crimson light.

The man’s face was hidden behind a full helm, but his eyes burned through the visor like twin furnaces.

Then he released his pressure.

The weight of a Saint Spirit Realm Ninth Level cultivator crashed down on the arena like an ocean falling from the sky.

Damon felt his knees threaten to buckle under the immense, suffocating weight of the Grand Marshal’s aura.

The pressure was a physical force, a crushing weight that sought to drive him to the ground.

Around him, disciples dropped like flies, their bodies crumpling as they succumbed to the overwhelming pressure, their faces pale with terror.

The weaker ones collapsed entirely, their faces slamming into the stone.

Others managed to stay on their feet but their bodies trembled violently, sweat pouring down their faces.

Ariel gasped beside him.

Mio and Mia grabbed each other for support.

Selene gritted her teeth, her ice aura flickering against the pressure.

Even Flare’s flames dimmed.

Damon forced his spine straight.

He would not bow.

The pressure intensified.

Damon’s muscles screamed.

His bones creaked.

His cultivation base churned as it fought to resist the overwhelming force pressing down on him.

King Spirit Realm Seventh Level.

He was still two major realms below this man.

But he refused to break.

The burning eyes behind the visor shifted.

They locked onto Damon.

For a long, terrible moment, the pressure focused entirely on him.

Damon felt his vision darken at the edges.

His blood roared in his ears.

His Incubus Dragon Lord Bloodline flared in response, fighting to protect him, but even it struggled against the weight of a Saint Spirit Realm Ninth Level expert.

Then the pressure lifted.

Just like that.

Damon sucked in a breath.

Beside him, Ariel stumbled and he caught her arm, steadying her.

The Grand Marshal turned to face King Aurelius.

He planted the butt of his halberd on the stone with a dull thud that echoed through the silent arena.

"Your Majesty."

His voice was deep. Resonant. It carried no emotion, no warmth, no humanity.

It was the voice of a weapon given form.

King Aurelius nodded.

"Grand Marshal Vane. Thank you for joining us."

Vane turned to face the assembled sects.

His gaze swept across the arena like a scythe.

"I am Grand Marshal Vane," he said.

No introduction was needed.

Every cultivator in the Eastern Continent knew that name.

"The Saint Arbiter."

He took a single step forward.

"I will oversee all thirty-two matches of this tournament personally."

The words landed like stones in still water.

"From the first strike to the final breath, I will be watching."

He raised the Halberd of Order and pointed it at the assembled disciples.

"If any disciple uses a hidden demonic talisman, an unapproved pill, or any external enhancement that violates the tournament’s integrity, I will know."

His voice dropped.

"And I will obliterate them."

He paused.

"Along with their sect."

The arena went cold.

Damon felt the shift in the atmosphere. The arrogance that had filled the disciples moments ago had evaporated. Even the Crimson Eclipse team had gone still.

Alistair Reventon’s face was unreadable.

Kai’s confident smile had vanished.

"These are not suggestions," Vane continued.

"These are the rules of the Solaris Kingdom. You will follow them, or you will be erased."

He lowered his halberd.

"Choose wisely."

King Aurelius stepped forward again, his voice smooth and diplomatic.

"Grand Marshal Vane has served the Solaris Kingdom for three centuries. His judgment is absolute. I trust that no sect here is foolish enough to test it."

He smiled.

It did not reach his eyes.

"The tournament begins at dawn. Prepare your disciples."

The royal family rose and departed through the golden passage.

Vane remained on the stage for a long moment, his burning eyes scanning the crowd one final time.

Then he vanished.

No flash.

No sound.

Just gone.

The pressure in the arena dissipated with him, and the disciples gasped for air like drowning men breaking the surface.

Damon exhaled slowly.

Beside him, Mei appeared from nowhere.

Her expression was uncharacteristically serious.

"That’s Vane," she said quietly.

"The King’s right hand. The Saint Arbiter. He’s killed some Sovereign Spirit Realm cultivators than most people have met one."

Damon turned to her.

"You can take him?"

Mei’s lips curved into a thin, humorless smile. Her deep purple eyes flickered with ancient calculation.

"Maybe," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

She paused, letting the weight settle.

"But it would cost me everything I’ve built."

Damon looked back at the empty stage, the lingering pressure of Vane’s presence still heavy.

"Let’s go," he said.

The group moved.

Behind them, the arena stood silent, waiting for the blood that would be spilled.