Sanny's senses ignited with an unfamiliar, searing sensation, intensifying with each passing moment like a wildfire consuming her very essence. As the judge's words reverberated through the arena.

In a whirlwind of motion, Luna launched her assault with precision and ferocity. Her strike aimed true aiming to hurt Sanny badly.. Yet, with a grace born of necessity, Sanny avoided them swiftly.

Undeterred by Sanny's evasion, Alice, fueled by a relentless determination, gathered the full force of her power, her intent clear: to crush her opponent . With a single, decisive blow, she unleashed a storm of energy, each ripple more potent than the last, threatening to rend flesh from bone.

In the heart of the storm, Sanny fought for survival, her instincts screaming for action. With a desperate maneuver, she dodged the brunt of the assault, but not without cost. Her arm was wounded, the crimson flow mingling with the ink of her tattoo.

Then, as if in response to the agony coursing through her veins, a surge of red magic erupted from the wound, suffusing her aura with an otherworldly glow. In that moment, Sanny felt a profound shift within herself, a change of soul that defied comprehension.

Sanny surged forward with a determination bordering on the divine. In a heartbeat, she stood behind Luna, a force of nature unleashed a torrent of energy, a tempest of red magic surging forth from her very being. Luna, caught off guard by the sudden reversal of fortune, found herself swept up in the storm, her defenses shattered like fragile glass.

The force of Sanny's onslaught sent Luna hurtling through the air, her form twisting and contorting as if caught in the grasp of an unseen hand. Luna crashed to the ground, her body thrown to the arena floor, a broken puppet.

The arena remained cloaked in silence, the weight of what had transpired settling heavily upon the spectators. Each individual grappled with the magnitude of Sanny's transformation, their minds struggling to comprehend the depths of power she had displayed.

As the murmurs grew louder and the tension in the arena thickened, the prince stepped forward, his expression grave yet resolute.

"Princess Sanny " he declared, his voice cutting through the din of speculation. " you've crossed a line."

Sanny, still grappling with the aftermath of her inexplicable display of power, could only offer a bewildered gaze in response.

"It's my fault," the prince continued, addressing the assembled crowd. "I taught her that move, a technique accessible to anyone with the right instruction. If anyone is to be held accountable, it's me."

His admission hung in the air. But even as the prince sought to diffuse the tension, the air crackled with uncertainty.

"What just happened?" one onlooker murmured, their tone tinged with disbelief.

"Which level of cultivation is this?" another questioned, their voice laden with uncertainty. "Is it celestial power or some kind of sorcery?"

"Was it forbidden magic?" someone called out from the crowd, their voice trembling with apprehension.

The very notion that a mere mortal could overpower the princess's tribe, renowned for their high immortal cultivation even before she had debuted cultivation, seemed unfathomable. How could someone, in just a month's time, ascend to such heights of power?

Sanny's silence only fueled the speculation, her very presence now tinged with an aura of mystery and danger that seemed to permeate the arena.

As the king and queen made their entrance, the entire assembly fell into a hushed reverence, their eyes drawn to the imposing figures at the center of the hall. The air seemed to crackle with tension as the monarchs surveyed the gathered crowd, their expressions grave and solemn.

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"Silence!" boomed the king's voice, cutting through the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the room. "This matter shall be settled in the Hall of Eternity. Guards, escort everyone there at once.

Upon reaching the Hall of Eternity, the assembly took their places, their faces a mixture of anticipation and dread. The atmosphere was charged with an energy that seemed to hum with the promise of resolution, yet also with the threat of irrevocable consequence.

As the doctor delivered the sobering news of Sanny's blindness, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a wave of shock and disbelief washing over them. The king's expression darkened, his eyes betraying the anguish he felt at the fate that had befallen the tribe's princess.

"Sanny," he began, his voice heavy with sorrow, "I cannot turn a blind eye to the demands of our people. You are the princess of our tribe, and with that title comes responsibility."

The executives wasted no time in voicing their demands for justice, their voices rising in a cacophony of accusation and indignation. The prince, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down upon him, knew that he must act swiftly and decisively to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.

As the trial commenced, he rose to his feet, his voice steady despite the turmoil that churned within him. "I propose," he declared, his words ringing out with authority, "that Sanny be confined to her realm as a form of punishment, while I take it upon myself to petition for leniency on her behalf."

The king, bound by the immutable laws of the celestial realm, listened carefully to his son's proposal before delivering his verdict with a heavy heart. "Sanny," he said, his voice resonating with the weight of centuries of tradition, "the celestial laws are unchangeable. As punishment for your actions, you must endure three thunderbolts to your body."

"Your Highness," he implored, his voice tinged with urgency, "Sanny is but a mortal. She hasn't even reached the rank of immortal. She won't withstand the thunderbolts. Father, please, let me take her punishment upon myself. It was my carelessness that led to this."

The queen, her expression a mix of concern and disbelief, interjected, "No, Rang'er, what are you saying? I can't allow you to do this."

But the prince, undeterred, continued, his gaze unwavering. "Your Highness, please. I've never asked for your help before. I've been taught to bear the weight of the crown, but this is the only time I'm asking you."

A moment of tense silence followed as the queen considered his words, her resolve faltering under the weight of his plead.

"Your Highness," she began, her voice softer now, "I think the crown prince is right. Sanny is nothing more than a mere mortal. We cannot allow her to sacrifice herself for an event such as this."

The king, his expression inscrutable, weighed the words of his son and queen carefully before finally delivering his verdict.

"Be aware of what you are saying," he cautioned, his voice heavy with the weight of their decision. "If this is your wish, then three holy thunderbolts shall be ascended upon you to bear. Take him away to start now."

As they entered the punishing hall, a sudden yellow barrier enveloped the prince, signifying the commencement of his sentence. None could breach this circle until the punishment was meted out. The first thunderous blow struck with such force that the prince spat blood, his once formidable power visibly waning.

Sany's heart raced as she watched helplessly, her emotions in turmoil. She knew she had to act, but the guards held her back, their grips unyielding.

The second thunderblow was even fiercer than the first, leaving the prince battered and wounded. It was evident he could not endure another strike.

"The laws of heaven have been invoked," the queen interjected, her voice tinged with concern. "The crown prince is the bedrock of our strength. We cannot afford to squander it."

"Please, Father," Alice implored, her distress evident. "It's clear the prince can endure no more."

But the king remained steadfast. "The laws of heaven are immutable. Three blows must be delivered."

As the final thunderbolt descended, a mysterious energy flooded the hall, and a dark sword materialized, shielding the prince from the impending strike. Sany's eyes darkened, unnoticed except by the shocked prince. The thunderbolt clashed against the sword, dispersing the yellow barrier.

Sany's strength waned, her eyes returning to normal as she coughed up dark blood.

The executives looked on in disbelief. "This cannot be! Is that the blood of the Mythic cultivators? But she is but a mortal! What sorcery is this?"

The Mythic cultivators, once rulers of the heavenly realm, had been wiped out in a series of catastrophic events. Their power was legendary, and their bloodline feared.