Chapter Sixty-One: Mingyue’s Invitation

Kingdoms shifted, the Queen passed away, and before the news of Princess Lilia of the Roses being thrust onto the throne in a time of crisis could even stir the world, another piece of news eclipsed it.

Launched by the mysterious and mightiest martial artist, the Holy King of the Bright Moon, and promoted by Baichuan, the newly elected chairman of the Morningstar Alliance, came an event named the Unlimited World’s Number One Martial Arts Tournament—a contest of life and death with no rules.

The tournament would begin one year hence, on a designated island, with the entire process recorded and broadcast to the world at unprecedented speed from the nearest nations outward, the very next day.

Undoubtedly, in an era devoid of television programs, this undertaking by the Holy King of the Bright Moon was nothing short of groundbreaking.

To participate meant that, so long as one survived, one would leave at least a faint impression upon the entire world, and to sweeten the outcome, the Morningstar Alliance had prepared lavish prizes for the victors.

The top ten would each receive ten volumes of top-tier secret martial arts techniques, handed down only among the greatest warriors, along with a hundred pounds of gold!

As for the champion, in addition to all this, there would be a seven-colored prism—an object instantly recognizable to anyone who desired it.

“Holy King of the Bright Moon…” Withdrawing his hand from the last antique, Liu Tian narrowed his eyes, regarding the gilded invitation on the table, sent by special courier from the Holy King himself. “Is this the same Holy King you used to speak of with such distaste, Master? What is he plotting this time?”

It had been a full month since Liu Tian and Tiandao had, before a crowd, dispatched two insignificant pests with overwhelming force.

Such a task had become almost trivial for the ever-growing pair. Throughout the entire episode, they had felt not the slightest resistance worthy of note.

Killing two princes was as effortless as tearing paper. Crushing the retaliatory army that followed was no harder than stepping on ants.

By the following day, the two princes, slain by Liu Tian and Tiandao, were officially said to have died of sudden illness.

Only now did Liu Tian and Tiandao truly begin to comprehend the confidence of Bai Cinan.

That confidence—of being invincible beneath the heavens, of sweeping through all opposition and achieving whatever one set out to do.

Even Tiandao, as he once was, had never possessed such certainty. Before his recent breakthrough, he lacked the power to fell every non-martial artist within a kilometer with a mere glance.

Moreover, after Liu Tian had shared with Tiandao his own advancements—the elusive Shadow-Dragon Step, the upgraded Thirteen Protectors’ Golden Bell Technique, and the revised Heavenly Martial Killing Path—they learned from each other, growing ever stronger until Tiandao’s power became unfathomable.

Compared to the trivial matter of crushing a few ants who dared bar their path, it was the task of settling his father’s old crew that demanded more effort from Liu Tian.

Many among them had watched him grow up, and for the sake of old ties, it was best to part on good terms. Thus, Liu Tian bustled about, but ultimately, only with Lilia’s assistance was the matter perfectly resolved.

“Bright Moon is a good man—one who deeply believes in prophecy and in his own destiny,” said Tiandao, sipping scalding tea, steam swirling above the leaves that danced like lively carp in the cup.

Since devouring the great white shark and shattering the final barrier to become King of the Century, Tiandao’s spirit had continually strengthened his body. Even boiling tea could no longer harm him.

“A good man? One who believes in prophecy and claims the title of Holy King? If you say so, Master, I’ll leave it at that,” Liu Tian replied. “So if Bright Moon has launched this event, he must have foreseen something.”

“Ten years ago, Bright Moon sought me out. He told me he’d seen a prophecy—of a great white shark that would devour heaven and earth,” Tiandao recalled, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “He asked me to join him in the hunt for this beast, claiming it would bring disaster and leave the world in ruins. I didn’t want to get involved, but his persistence wore me down, and given his record for accurate predictions, I agreed to help if he found it.”

“I heard he searched for it ever since, always in vain, and then shifted his focus—like the Blue Dream Corporation—to collecting prisms. Whether he ever found the shark, I cannot say.”

“No, perhaps he found it long ago, but only now understands its significance.”

“So, it’s our second senior brother, isn’t it?” Liu Tian guessed halfway through the story, and when Tiandao finished, he immediately asked, “Aside from a global catastrophe, only he, if he’s grown more powerful, could manage such a feat.”

“Though our second brother craves power, he doesn’t seem the type to slaughter humanity—at least, not yet.”

“Blue Dream Corporation,” Tiandao pronounced the words with a hint of chill. “Blue Dream.”

“Unlike other companies, they were founded to fulfill the so-called ‘Blue Dream,’ though outsiders know nothing of its true nature.”

“But I suspect it’s nothing more than the old ambition: world domination, mastery over mankind, the usual stale desires,” Tiandao continued, dismissively. “Once, as a company, it was impossible. But now, if our second brother has reached, or even surpassed, my level, it’s not out of the question.”

“Our second brother was quite gifted, wasn’t he?” Liu Tian mused, idly playing with a red orb-like antique from the Lost Empire.

“His talent was second to none,” Tiandao affirmed. “He learned all the martial arts I taught him—far more easily than you, including the earliest form of the Heavenly Martial Killing Path. By the age of fifteen, he’d already reached the threshold of breaking past the limits of a martial artist. Had he not been emotionally fragile, he would never have lost his arm.”

“I’ve always believed the secret he never told me was linked to Blue Dream. After losing his arm, only Blue Dream had the means to restore him, to let him climb higher. When persuasion failed, I let him go his own way.”

“So he practiced the earliest version of the Heavenly Martial Killing Path from childhood,” Liu Tian remarked. “He must be inherently drawn to power and desire.”

“It’s instinctive,” Tiandao replied.

“Then he surely can’t tolerate a master above him.”

“A true man stands between heaven and earth—how could he suffer long beneath another’s heel?” Tiandao responded.

“Then his rebellion against Blue Dream, and their inevitable suppression of him, is only a matter of time. They must have contingencies in place,” Liu Tian said.

“There’s no doubt.”

Their eyes met, master and disciple, and suddenly as if struck by the same realization, they burst out laughing—

“Well, this is getting interesting.”

“Indeed… most interesting.”