The Saintess with Crimson Eyes.
The stone beneath Haaron's feet was still cracked from the pressure he had released, but the echoes had already traveled far beyond the tournament ring.
Yan Zhu lay in a heap at the edge of the platform—conscious, trembling, silenced.
No wounds, no visible damage.
But his core was fractured. Not broken, not destroyed—but split along lines of insecurity that Haaron's resonance had pierced.
And in a place like this—where strength was everything—humiliation was a death sentence.
No one dared speak, no one approached Haaron,
Until she did.
She stepped onto the platform without announcement. Without permission.
She didn't wear her sect's colors, She didn't need to.
Everyone knew her the moment she appeared.
Saintess Mei Xue.
The Crimson Eyes of the Northern Frontier. A rogue talent who once seduced and killed a sect patriarch in a single night, walked out of his burning temple wearing his heirloom ring, and vanished before they could stop her.
She wasn't bound to any one place—but every major sect feared her name.
And now… she stood across from Haaron.
Barefoot,Smiling.
Her robes were red. Deep, flowing, sheer in places where form mattered more than modesty. Her eyes, true to her legend, were crimson with a gleam of something… hungry.
She didn't speak at first.
She just walked in a slow circle around Haaron, the same way a predator might walk around something too dangerous to pounce on too quickly.
"I've heard stories," she said finally. "Of your flames. Of your women."
She stopped.
"And I thought I was the only one who could make others submit just by standing still."
Haaron met her gaze without blinking. "You're not the only one anymore."
She smiled wider.
"Then let's dance, Sutra King."
The stone beneath Haaron's feet was still cracked from the pressure he had released, but the echoes had already traveled far beyond the tournament ring.
Yan Zhu lay in a heap at the edge of the platform—conscious, trembling, silenced.
No wounds, No visible damage.
But his core was fractured. Not broken, not destroyed—but split along lines of insecurity that Haaron's resonance had pierced.
And in a place like this—where strength was everything—humiliation was a death sentence.
No one dared speak.
No one approached Haaron.
Until she did.
She stepped onto the platform without announcement. Without permission.
She didn't wear her sect's colors.
She didn't need to.
Everyone knew her the moment she appeared.
Saintess Mei Xue.
The Crimson Eyes of the Northern Frontier. A rogue talent who once seduced and killed a sect patriarch in a single night, walked out of his burning temple wearing his heirloom ring, and vanished before they could stop her.
She wasn't bound to any one place—but every major sect feared her name.
And now… she stood across from Haaron.
Barefoot.
Smiling.
Her robes were red. Deep, flowing, sheer in places where form mattered more than modesty. Her eyes, true to her legend, were crimson with a gleam of something… hungry.
She didn't speak at first.
She just walked in a slow circle around Haaron, the same way a predator might walk around something too dangerous to pounce on too quickly.
"I've heard stories," she said finally. "Of your flames. Of your women."
She stopped.
"And I thought I was the only one who could make others submit just by standing still."
Haaron met her gaze without blinking. "You're not the only one anymore."
She smiled wider.
"Then let's dance, Sutra King."
The wind around the platform stilled. Not a single sect elder moved. Even Crimson Sky Hall's enforcers kept their distance. No one wanted to interrupt what they now realized was not a challenge—
—but a collision of forces.
Haaron and Mei Xue stood five feet apart. Both radiant. Both untouchable.
Her eyes glowed like embers. His like violet flame.
He didn't summon his qi.
She didn't draw a blade. Yet the air between them rippled,Resonance,but not Sutra-based. Not yet.
This was something older.
A test of who breaks first—without a single strike.
"You've already built a sect out of submission," Mei Xue said. "Turned girls into goddesses and made yourself the axis they orbit."
She stepped closer. "But can you make a woman like me yield?"
"I don't make anyone yield," Haaron replied, voice like tempered steel. "They choose to kneel."
"Then what if I never do?" she asked.
Haaron smiled.
"Then I'll keep you standing. Until your knees decide otherwise."
Her breath caught.
And for the first time in years, Saintess Mei Xue felt her pulse stutter—not from fear, but from the promise behind those words.
Her aura swirled with crimson spirit threads.
His Sutra flared in return.
They clashed in silence, and the world leaned in to watch.
A soft moan echoed from the crowd—one of the female disciples from Blue Pine Refuge dropped her fan, blushing uncontrollably.
Others stared, breathless.
Even disciples from righteous sects were biting their lips, spiritually reacting to the tension Haaron and Mei Xue radiated.
They weren't just flirting.
They were rewriting the rules of spiritual dominance.
Mei Xue leaned in close, voice barely audible to anyone but him.
"I don't submit easily."
"You're not meant to," Haaron replied.
"Then what do you want?"
He didn't hesitate.
"To make you want to."
That made her shiver.
Not from cold.
But from the pressure building inside her spirit.
She turned her back with a sharp smile.
"I'll see you in the next round."
And as she walked away, the wind behind her trembled.
Yue Shilan watched it all from a nearby balcony, jaw tight.
Lian Rou narrowed her eyes, tails curling.
And Amari… silently felt the mirror of herself flicker.
Because they all knew.
Mei Xue was not just interested.
She was already half in the Sutra's orbit, and she hadn't even been touched yet.