Today was the most important day for young cultivators—Sect Selection Day. Their talent would be tested, and the results would decide their future within a sect. As the sun rose over Blue Cloud City, hopeful candidates streamed toward the grand arena, where Sect Elders waited to evaluate their potential.

Jian Wu walked calmly toward the arena. After a short walk from the city center, in the distance, the massive arena came into view. It was a symbol of the city’s martial pride, renowned for hosting famous martial tournaments and duels. But today, it hosted the southern region’s most significant event: the annual sect selections. Jian Wu paused briefly, his gaze lingering on the structure as memories from his past flickered in his mind. He pushed them aside and continued forward.

Blue Cloud City was a hub of martial culture, and on Sect Selection Day, it was more alive than ever. The streets buzzed with cultivators rushing to make it on time. The arena gates were packed, with long lines moving at a crawl as candidates jostled for their turn to enter.

Jian Wu joined one of the lines, his expression calm and focused. He waited patiently, inching forward while keeping a close eye on his surroundings. Despite the crowded chaos, he remained composed, his sharp gaze taking in every detail.

As he finally neared the gate, whispers rose behind him, followed by a commotion in the crowd. When he turned back, he saw a group of people pushing their way forward. The group cut through the crowd without waiting in line, and most of the people ahead quickly stepped aside to make way for them. The air was filled with angry murmurs, but no one dared to voice their objections. Leading the group was a familiar figure.

“Luo Tian,” Jian Wu muttered under his breath.

It was none other than Luo Tian, the prodigious son of the city lord of Blue Cloud City. Jian Wu’s eyes narrowed, his gaze cold as memories of his past life surfaced. Luo Tian—arrogant, ruthless, and monstrously talented—had entered the White Lotus Sect the same year Jian Wu had in his previous life. He was a figure synonymous with fear and unchecked power.

Luo Tian’s lackeys, clad in arrogance and a misplaced sense of superiority, shoved their way through the crowd, clearing a path for their master with aggressive disdain.

“Move! Are you courting death?” one of them barked, his tone as sharp as a blade.

“Step aside! Do you have a death wish blocking Young Master Luo Tian?” another sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

The crowd parted reluctantly, the murmur of frustration rising like a low tide, but no one dared to openly object. Luo Tian’s mere presence was enough to silence dissent. As the son of the city lord, his authority was unshakable, and his cruelty was notorious.

Jian Wu stood still, his posture straight and unyielding. His sharp eyes tracked Luo Tian’s approach, studying the young man who embodied both privilege and terror. Luo Tian was no mere spoiled child. At thirteen, he had already built a harem of unwilling girls, abusing his father’s authority to shield his heinous acts. Even within the White Lotus Sect, his monstrous talent and unrestrained cruelty earned him the title “The Devil.” Students whispered his name with fear, and even elders treaded carefully around him.

"I suppose stepping aside and avoiding trouble would be the smartest choice," he muttered under his breath, his voice a low rumble only he could hear. "But if I want to advance in the Martial Dao, I need to be a bit crazy."

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As Luo Tian and his entourage drew nearer, the pressure around them grew suffocating. The weight of Luo Tian’s presence seemed to sap the courage from the crowd, leaving only Jian Wu standing resolute. The lackeys reached him first, their sneering expressions filled with disdain. One of them stepped forward, shoving Jian Wu roughly.

“Get out of the way, idiot. Are you blind?” the lackey spat, his voice filled with arrogance.

But Jian Wu didn’t budge. His feet were rooted firmly to the ground, his eyes fixed on the lackey’s face with an icy stare. The crowd, already tense, held their collective breath. For a moment, the air crackled with the promise of conflict, the tension so thick it was almost tangible.

Jian Wu’s calm, unflinching gaze sent a chill down the lackey’s spine, though the man quickly masked his unease with a sneer. Luo Tian, watching from behind, paused, his interest piqued by the lone figure daring to stand firm in his path.

“I’m not blind,” Jian Wu said evenly, his voice calm but cutting. “I just had the misfortune of seeing your ugly face up close.”

No one expected such a retort. The tension in the air grew thick, and while some people found the reply amusing, none dared to laugh openly in front of Luo Tian.

“Who is this guy? Do you know him?” someone whispered to their friend.

“No, I don’t think he’s anyone important.”

“Then he must either be an idiot or have no idea who he’s provoking.”

The lackey’s face flushed crimson with humiliation and fury. With a snarl, he swung his hand, aiming to slap Jian Wu across the face.

Before the blow could land, Jian Wu’s hand shot up, catching the lackey’s wrist effortlessly. He tightened his grip, his qi surging as a sharp, agonizing pressure traveled through the lackey’s arm. A scream tore from the man’s throat as he dropped to his knees, his face contorted in pain.

The crowd froze, stunned by Jian Wu’s audacity. Whispers of disbelief rippled through the onlookers, though none dared to speak too loudly.

From behind, a low, amused laugh broke the tense silence. Luo Tian stepped forward, his expression a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

“Boy, you’ve got guts,” Luo Tian said, his tone mocking yet dangerous. “You dare to attack my servant in front of me?”

Jian Wu released the lackey’s wrist, letting him collapse to the ground, and turned his cold gaze to Luo Tian.

“You should’ve kept your dog on a leash,” Jian Wu replied evenly. “It barked up the wrong tree.”

The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut with a blade. The crowd watched with bated breath, their collective fear almost palpable. Luo Tian’s infamous reputation had cowed countless cultivators, but here stood a seemingly unknown youth openly defying him.

Luo Tian’s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze scrutinizing Jian Wu. His imposing figure, tall and broad for his age, cast a long shadow. The massive sword strapped to his back added to his already suffocating presence, and his killing intent rolled off him like a wave, forcing weaker cultivators to tremble and break out in cold sweats.

Yet Jian Wu didn’t flinch. Instead, his own aura surged forth, a fierce battle intent rising to meet Luo Tian’s oppressive force head-on. For a fleeting moment, surprise flickered across Luo Tian’s face. He hadn’t expected such defiance—or strength—from someone he deemed insignificant.

The two stood locked in a silent clash of wills, their auras colliding with a force that left the crowd frozen in place.

Then, Luo Tian’s lips curled into a smirk. “I thought today would be boring. But you’ve entertained me. I think I’ll play with you for a while.”

Jian Wu remained silent, his expression cold and resolute. His decision was made. No matter the consequences, he would not back down. This was his stand, his declaration to the world—and to himself—that he was no longer the man who had bowed in submission in his past life.