The announcement of Kael's victory sent waves of jubilation through the Sacred Council. For so long, Einar had loomed like an insurmountable peak over their younger generation—now, that mountain had finally been toppled. How could they not be ecstatic?
Among the crowd, Ethan cheered wildly, shaking his head in awe. "Kael actually defeated Einar… Unbelievable. That guy's growth is downright terrifying…"
Dylan clapped Ethan's shoulder, his lips twitching. "Don't compare yourself to that monster, or you'll end up jumping into a river!"
Ethan nodded solemnly, both sighing in shared amazement. Truthfully, they had every reason to be confident in their own talents—Ethan and Dylan were among the continent's elite. But compared to prodigies like Gawain and Loray from the Crystal Tower, their cultivation time was shorter, leaving a significant gap in strength.
As for Kael? That guy defied all logic.
Einar had lost.
And not just lost—he had been crushed. The Holy Temple's camp remained deathly silent, their earlier soaring momentum extinguished in an instant. This was an outcome no one had foreseen.
With the Grand Speaker declaring Kael the victor, the Sacred Council emerged as the clear winner. Zorath the Silent couldn't hide his glee—as Kael's sponsor, this triumph reflected gloriously on him.
"That brat Kael really pulled through! Damn it, he actually took down that red-haired punk Einar!" Zorath babbled excitedly, laughing like a madman.
Yet no one paid attention to his rambling now. The Holy Pontiff cleared his throat softly, his gaze lingering on Kael. "Truly, heroes emerge from the young. We concede this battle. For the second duel, the Holy Temple will field Merlin, First Legion Commander of the Magic Corps. Who will the Sacred Council send?"
The Holy Temple and the Sacred Council had agreed to three duels—Kael and Einar's clash was merely the first among the younger generation. Einar's earlier victories over three Sacred Council members, achieved through underhanded tactics, were excluded from this official tally.
The Sacred Council had won the first duel, but two more awaited.
"For the second duel," the Grand Speaker declared calmly, "the Sacred Council nominates 'Blazing Hand,' First Knight of the Divine Martial Order."
The Pontiff gave a slight nod. "Very well. Then it is settled—the second duel begins tomorrow." With a wave of his hand, he commanded, "White Feather Knights, return to camp!"
The Holy Temple's forces retreated like a receding tide, their once-imposing demeanor now replaced by disarray. The injured Einar was supported by attendants as they withdrew—what had begun as a triumphant march now ended in humiliating defeat.
No one could have predicted this outcome.
"Damn it all! Those Holy Temple bastards—they're sending out that old fox Merlin for the next duel!" Zorath the Silent cursed loudly, making Kael's eyes narrow. Clearly, the Holy Temple's second combatant was no pushover either.
Thanks to Kael's victory, the Holy Temple had already been forced onto the back foot in their three-duel agreement. Losing another match would completely dash their hopes of securing leadership in the upcoming human alliance.
Zorath the Silent roared with laughter, clapping Kael on the shoulder. "Kael, my boy, you've done magnificently! You've brought immense glory to the Sacred Council!"
It wasn't just Zorath—every member of the Sacred Council nodded in agreement, even Bjorn of the Magic Shrine, who had previously doubted Kael's abilities.
Kael's strength was undeniable.
"Kael, you've performed exceptionally well," the Grand Speaker praised with an approving nod.
Kael bowed slightly, performing a mage's salute. "You honor me too much, Grand Speaker. I merely fulfilled my duty as a member of the Sacred Council."
The Grand Speaker's expression softened. "No, you've done far more than that. Without you, our Sacred Council might have become the laughingstock of the three continents today! Among the younger generation, you alone stand as Einar's equal!"
This was high praise indeed. The Sacred Council's upper echelons exchanged glances, their gazes toward Kael shifting subtly. After this battle, it was clear—Kael had earned the Grand Speaker's favor, and his future was boundless...
Then came the words that set Kael's heart ablaze:
"Kael, I hereby appoint you as Vice-Lord of the Shadow Hall, sharing authority over it with Zorath the Silent. You are also granted the hereditary title of Marquis! Furthermore, the Sacred Council will fully support your efforts to develop the Laifei Plains!"
Vice-Lord of the Shadow Hall. A hereditary marquis. Full backing for the Laifei Plains.
Even Kael's unshakable composure wavered. A single battle had elevated his standing within the Sacred Council to unprecedented heights, bringing him tangible rewards beyond measure.
This was no empty gesture—the position of Vice-Lord of the Shadow Hall marked Kael as a true high-ranking member of the Sacred Council. Though he wouldn't wield sole authority, one couldn't forget: Kael was only twenty years old, and he had joined the Sacred Council less than a year ago.
This was proof of the Council's absolute faith in him.
Moreover, being granted the hereditary title of Marquis and receiving full support to develop the Laifei Territory virtually guaranteed that the region would flourish into one of the continent's most prosperous cities in the future.
Several other council members exchanged meaningful glances—it seemed Kael's standing in the Grand Speaker's eyes required reevaluation...
"My gratitude, Your Excellency the Grand Speaker," Kael bowed in acknowledgment.
The Grand Speaker gave a slight nod before shifting his gaze to a figure among the crowd. "Blazing Hand, tomorrow I task you with facing Merlin. Are you confident?"
Blazing Hand!
Kael studied the man curiously. Such an unusual designation clearly wasn't a given name but rather a codename or epithet—much like "Zorath the Silent."
The man in question was a middle-aged warrior with a broad frame and unremarkable features, yet he exuded terrifying pressure. His aura was immeasurably steady—Kael couldn't discern his exact strength level but was certain he had to be at least twelfth-tier or higher.
After all, this was the man the Grand Speaker had just identified as First Knight of the Sacred Council's Divine Martial Order—one of the twelve council members himself: Blazing Hand!
Crossing his fists in salute, Blazing Hand responded with chilling determination: "I'll fight until my last breath—this battle ends only when life does!"
The Grand Speaker smiled faintly. "Your dedication is noted, but such extremity isn't necessary. Simply do your best."
...
The next day.
Same time. Same location.
Both the Holy Temple and Sacred Council's forces assembled once more, joined by representatives from other major factions. After witnessing Kael's display of power the previous day, many previously neutral powers had begun shifting their allegiance toward the Sacred Council.
For this second duel, the Holy Temple fielded Merlin, Legion Commander of their Magic Corps—a pivotal figure within their hierarchy.
Merlin appeared as an aged archmage, his face deeply lined with wrinkles that spoke of centuries of arcane study. Clad in azure robes, his narrow eyes and cold countenance radiated unsettling energy.
The two combatants took their positions at the center. At simultaneous commands from the Pontiff and Grand Speaker—
The battle erupted instantly.
"Zorath the Silent, does our 'Blazing Hand' stand a chance?" Kael asked.
Zorath the Silent stroked his chin. "Hard to say. I've never seen Blazing Hand's full strength, but he's certainly stronger than me—one of the Sacred Council's top fighters. Still, that old fox Merlin is cunning as hell…"
Kael's gaze sharpened as the battlefield suddenly transformed. Merlin raised his staff, and a blinding light erupted from it. The mist over Thousand Moon Lake churned violently, and the lake's waters seemed to be drawn upward, coalescing midair into a massive formation!
"Damn it! Merlin's using his magic to lift the lake's water and weave an illusionary array! Blazing Hand's in trouble now!" Zorath the Silent grimaced, pounding his chest in frustration.
Kael's eyes widened. Zorath was right—Merlin's skill was terrifying. To manipulate the waters of Thousand Moon Lake on such a scale and construct an illusionary array mid-battle was nothing short of monstrous.
Of course, Thousand Moon Lake spanned tens of thousands of meters—Merlin hadn't drained it entirely, only a fraction.
Yet even this was staggering.
"Is this the power of a legendary archmage? The ability to reshape landscapes with a mere gesture?" Kael thought, pulse quickening.
Trapped within the illusion, Blazing Hand wandered like a man lost in an endless maze, unable to find an exit. The Sacred Council's observers grew increasingly grim as minutes ticked by.
Three hours passed before Blazing Hand finally broke free—only to be immediately bombarded by Merlin's spells. Overwhelmed, he faltered.
The Sacred Council had lost.
It wasn't that Blazing Hand was weaker—their raw power was comparable. But Merlin's centuries of experience gave him the edge. As a mage, his mastery of mental warfare allowed him to exploit the environment, trapping Blazing Hand in the illusion while conserving his own strength. Unable to dispel the array, Blazing Hand exhausted himself, sealing Merlin's victory.
The score was now tied—one to one.
The decisive third duel would determine everything.
Kael's stomach tightened. His fate was now inextricably tied to the Sacred Council's. Glory or ruin—they stood together. If the Council failed here, no amount of personal prestige would save him.
"This round goes to the Holy Temple," the Pontiff declared coolly, satisfaction lacing his voice. The balance had shifted once more.
Then his gaze locked onto the Grand Speaker like a dagger.
"For the third duel… I shall take the field myself. Who among you dares face me?"
Kael's breath hitched. The Pontiff versus the Grand Speaker? This… was about to become historic.
"As you wish, Pontiff. I accept your challenge!" The Grand Speaker's laughter rang out, brimming with unwavering confidence.