As the portal behind them shimmered into nothingness, the disciples of the outer nations stepped into a land that felt like another world entirely.
The moment their feet touched the soil, a heavy pressure bore down on them—not from cultivation suppression, but from the land itself. The soil on the other hand seemed charred, but was still brimming with spiritual energy, more than what normally soils have in the other countries.
The sky above was not blue. Not even gray.
It was black.
Black enough to shame coals. Black enough to swallow light.
Thunder cracked relentlessly in the skies, not in flashes but in drawn-out roars—like the howls of forgotten gods. As if the heavens themselves have left a mark of their wrath on this land.
Some disciples instinctively looked up, expecting lightning to descend and smite them for daring to step foot on this land. But none came.
"This... This is still our planet?" one disciple muttered, voice shaking.
Yet it wasn't the skies that terrified them most.
It was the people.
Mortal farmers tending to blackened fields in the distance, each radiating faint spiritual energy. Not enough to be called cultivators—but far, far stronger than the average mortals from other countries.
"If a mortal from Storm Jade Country fought one from an outer country..." someone whispered, "...he'd be torn apart like a chicken to a butcher."
Even Shen Yuan narrowed his eyes. The soil beneath his shoes looked burnt, lifeless. And yet, it throbbed with spiritual energy—richer than the spirit stones back in Twin Soul Sect.
Not only that, but even the normal plants and trees seemed to be throbbing with enough spiritual energy to be called at least a mid-tier treasure in the outer countries.
"So this... is the central country of the planet," Shen Yuan murmured. "No wonder the world bows to them."
At that moment, the World Lord—silent as ever—vanished without a word, his aura disappearing like wind into night.
The envoy, however, lifted a hand and flicked his fingers.
A crisp snap echoed.
In that instant, a man in flowing white robes appeared out of thin air.
He bowed with one hand on his chest, posture elegant and measured.
"This," the envoy announced, "is Yan Hai. Steward of this land, and the presiding elder of your upcoming Phase Two."
Gasps echoed through the group.
But not for the reason one might expect.
"Mid... Mid-stage Elysian Realm?" someone whispered in disbelief.
In their home countries, such a cultivation was a legend. Here, it was... a steward?
Even Shen Yuan exhaled slowly. Now he truly understood what it meant for this land to be the ruling center of the planet.
The white-robed man kept his head bowed for a moment longer before speaking, his voice calm and mellow—like a ripple on still water.
"I am Yan Hai. You may call me Steward Yan."
His tone held no overt threat, yet there was a sharpness beneath the softness—like a sheathed sword daring you to forget it was still a blade.
The crowd remained silent. Even the team leaders kept their heads down, wary.
Until—
"Ah, such pressure," a lazy voice broke the quiet. "Steward Yan, it's a pleasure to meet you, truly. But no need to be so scary, you know? We juniors wouldn't dare to be disrespectful. We know we can't beat you."
All heads turned.
It was Shen Yuan.
Returning the steward's gesture with the same elegance, but wearing that familiar smile—half sincere, half mocking.
His five companions looked like they'd just swallowed bad pills.
"That was the fakest respectful speech I've ever heard", Tang Jiyan thought.
Classic Shen Yuan. All five of them thought in unison.
Steward Yan was silent.
Then—he laughed.
Not a chuckle. A genuine, full-throated laugh.
"Hah! You're the first to speak to me like that, boy. So brazen… yet still respectful. I like your guts."
The disciples looked at Shen Yuan with new eyes. Whispers spread like wildfire. Even those who hadn't paid him any mind before were beginning to reconsider.
His five companions?
They just smirked. They'd seen this before.
The steward composed himself quickly.
"There's no time to dawdle. Come, let me show you to your abodes."
They followed him through twisted stone streets, under towering structures built from obsidian-like materials humming with natural qi.
When they arrived, the disciples were stunned.
Massive black-pillared residences stood in neat rows, each exuding luxury and power. Even the door handles were carved from spiritual beast bones imbued with runes.
"Each of you will have your own quarters," Steward Yan said. "Choose whichever suits you."
No one hesitated. They dashed in every direction, claiming their rooms as if their lives depended on it.
Shen Yuan's companions chose theirs as well, offering nods before disappearing inside to cultivate.
But Shen Yuan turned to the steward.
"Steward Yan, may I have a look at the colosseum where Phase Two will take place?"
Yan Hai raised a brow, then nodded. "To the west. You'll know it when you see it."
As Shen Yuan walked away, Yan Hai turned to the envoy.
"That boy... Shen Yuan. What do you think?"
A brief pause. The envoy's eyes narrowed.
"He's dangerous. Cold. Not interested in anything but his goal. He'll play by the rules—but only if it benefits him. And... he might have secrets even we can't begin to deduct."
The steward followed Shen Yuan's silhouette with his eyes and smirked.
Shen Yuan walked through the blackened lands, hands behind his back, calm and quiet.
The air was thick, yet familiar. The darkness above wasn't oppressive to him—it felt... comforting.
Odd.
But he liked it.
After some time, the towering shape of the colosseum loomed into view.
"Whoa."
It wasn't just big. It was gigantic—a monstrous ring of stone with swirling runes engraved into every inch of its walls. It looked ancient. Eternal.
He leapt up, landing lightly at the edge of the wall, which was over 3000 feets long.
From there, he saw the battlefield—a vast central platform surrounded by seats. Enough to hold over 5,000 spectators. This was no mere arena. This was where legends were born... and destroyed.
He stood at the edge, hands tucked into his sleeves, savoring the view.
Until—
Step.
Another presence landed beside him.
He didn't need to look. He felt the coldness in the air shift.
Turning his head, his eyes darkened.
The Young Prince of Fengyue.
The prince smirked.
No words.
Their eyes locked. Their auras surged—silent, invisible waves crashing into each other.
Shen Yuan's smirk faded. His expression turned calm. Cold.
"If you want to die here… I wouldn't mind giving the crowd a preview."
The silence between them was deafening.
The second phase hadn't begun...
But the real battle already had.