Chapter 2 – Proofread by FireFistasce

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Towering Ironbark trees surrounded the battle arena where the yearly disciple competition of the Soaring Clouds sect was held. There was a square field of fifty meters, seats for spectators to sit on every side, and a barrier had been set up to keep straying attacks from harming the curious disciples and elders who had come to watch this year's spectacle.

Hollering cheers were thrown across the field from the sides as the two final participating cultivators, who were the opposite of each other, made their way across.

One of them wore a black robe and carried two smaller sickles in his rugged hands. His hair was combed backwards with argon oil and seemed to lick his head. His eyes were green like a viper's, glistening in the morning sun, and carried a sinister touch.

The other cultivator was almost holy in comparison. He had golden hair that swooped past his shoulders and very delicate facial features. It was like comparing an angel to a devil. He had eyes with golden irises, two rows of dazzling, oyster white teeth and a healthy bronze hue on his skin. His white robe was adorned with a simple sword without any extra decorations, and around his neck hung a white jade pendant without any special decoration on it.

“Rector, have you thought about what I told you earlier?” the holy cultivator asked.

“Shut up, Michael. I've told you dozens of times, I will never become a silly sassy like you.” Rector spat out his words so that everyone could hear.

Michael shook his head. “How come you are so obsessed with that path of yours?”

“Obsessed? Hahaha!” Rector took his fighting stance. There was a distance of thirty meters between the two and once the battle started this gap would be crossed in an instance. “The killing path is the only true path in cultivation. To be unfettered and soar through the gate of heaven like a dragon, a cultivator needs only power. And killing is power. True power!”

“Oh, Rector. I hope you will one day discover how wrong you were.” Michael sighed and said. “Okay, let's make a bet. If you can defeat me today with your killing path, I will give up my freedom and be your slave for as long as I exist. However, If I win, you will do the same.”

“Slave? Never thought such a word would escape your mouth. Fine, I’ll agree to this bet of yours.” Rector laughed. “If you can defeat me, I will become your slave and do whatever you say for the rest of my life! But if you lose, I will make you kill so many people that your hands are drenched in blood that can't be washed off! I will make you regret ever standing in my way!”

Michael broke out in a smile. “I'm glad that I could finally convince you.”

“Convince me? Shut up, bastard.” Rector growled.

The sinister-eyed man pounced forward. He used a high-ranked movement technique that made his figure blur and allowed him to create an illusion. If one didn't coat his or her eyes in aura quickly enough to shatter the illusion, an opponent using this technique could very well be one's Reaper. Of course, even if one did do this, the matter of success relied on skill and utilization of aura. If the opponent's skill in this sort of technique overshadowed one's proficiency in aura coating, then the illusion would never break.

Michael was calm even though the second rank core disciple in the sect was about to attack him. 

“Shatter.” Michael softly said.

The illusion broke apart at his command, like a fragmented dream, and Rector's true figure became visible for him.

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“H-how is your aura coating this strong!?” Rector asked with a slight stutter. This technique was his signature technique that he had learned over the past year and become even more famous for. No one in his cultivation level had broken it this easily before.

“Because my strength is earned from hard work and not stealing,” Michael said softly with a smile. “But I must say, your devil's steps have become even better. If not for my light-attribute, I doubt I'd be able to counter it. Mm, truly worthy of being second.”

The sinister-eyed man shrouded his sickles with a dark, bubbling aura, but as he heard the young man, he almost coughed up blood. Shameless! Utterly shameless! Your mother is second! He spat out a thick glob and cracked his neck. “Bastard,” he cursed as he charged.

The two cultivators clashed several times.

Michael found an opening and delivered a kick to the Rector’s abdomen, causing him to crash into the ground and spit out a mouthful of blood as a groan escaped his lips.

A cloud of sand kicked up from the impact.

Unable to discern, Michael frowned with worry. He never intended to fatally hurt Rector

“Are you alright?” Michael asked and slowly walked forward to where the sand cloud was.

Suddenly, he felt a stir in the air. He leaned his body back on instinct.

A warm touch to his chest, the stinging pain echoing in his drumming ears –– his white robe had been cut apart and a sickle had pierced through his skin, ripping a large gash in his well-defined chest.

A chuckle broke the silence. “You are too careless, you damn show-off.”

Rector's face appeared from within the sand cloud, his hand holding the sickle that dripped with crimson blood.

“To not be on your guard in a fight... you think everyone's as naive as you? Bullshit! The martial world is more ruthless than you think. Let this serve as a lesson, and perhaps an initiative for a change of mindset. Well, I'll get you used to killing others when you serve as my slave. You'll discover it's... quite nerve-easing.”

However, different from his expectations, Michael's face beamed up. “That was a marvelous attack, Rector! You took advantage of my worry and used it to deliver a strike I wouldn't be able to counter! If I hadn't stepped back, I might have been fatally wounded — Incredible!”

“Bastard! Why are you complimenting me! This is just like last time. Don't treat me like a child, I'm the second ranked core disciple for fuck's sake!” Rector cursed and attacked Michael with fury. His strikes were ferocious but Michael's blocks were firm like a boulder.

“What do you mean? I've never treated you as a child.” the young man replied with a smile.

“Not treated me like a child!!!? Last year you explained in detail about my strengths and how I should improve! It took an hour! You talked nonstop for an hour! It even hindered the prize awards! And you know what the most annoying thing is? You fucking gave me the manual that became my signature move? You bastard, how much face do you want me to lose?" Rector fumed with anger as his attacks raged on.

“I helped you improve, didn't I?” Michael said. “Face? What's that?”

Rector snorted in response and attacked Michael who blocked.

Michael felt his feet press through the ground, his arms aching as his opponent pressed down harder. On the other hand, his eyes gleamed as he thought about Rector's progress after his advice last year. If only the poor man didn't continue walking down the killing path...

“I'm sorry, I can’t lose that bet.” he said as his opponents sickles were close to his throat.

“You should have thought about that before you made it!” Rector said angrily.

“I really can’t,” he said and suddenly exploded with vigor. Rectors two eyes bulged out as his sickles were pushed away and Michael’s sword placed itself by his neck before he could react.

“Admit defeat?” Michael asked, his eyes glowing.

Rector dropped his sickles unwillingly, pursuing his mouth. “Bastard...”

“Come again?” the young man said, gesturing for the sword in his hands.

With a deep breath, Rector broke the silence. “Yes, I lost. Satisfied?”

“Yup,” Michael admitted.