Chapter 106: Seventy Lotuses

"Sylvan, you are absolutely shameless!"

Liana’s voice exploded through the arena.

The cheerful smile she had worn just moments ago disappeared without a trace.

She stepped forward, positioning herself slightly in front of Seris, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at Sylvan.

"She just finished a spar with me, and now you immediately try to pressure her into fighting you? You’re six entire realms above her! What kind of honorable exchange is that?"

Sylvan maintained his composed, confident smile, seemingly unbothered by the accusation. "I said it was a friendly exchange, Liana. I would naturally suppress my cultivation to match hers. I simply wish to compare our Epic-Grade martial arts. There’s nothing dishonorable about—"

"Grandpa!" Liana spun on her heel, appealing directly to Solas, "Please say something! This is clearly bullying!"

Solas’s piercing eyes shifting between Sylvan and Seris.

After a brief pause, his authoritative voice rolled across the arena.

"Sylvan. Stand down. Lady Seris is our honored guest tonight. Pressuring her into a duel she did not seek is beneath the dignity of the Silvercrest Clan."

Sylvan’s confident smile faltered, but only for a fraction of a second.

He quickly regained his composure and offered a respectful, perfectly measured bow toward the Old Patriarch.

"Of course, Old Patriarch. I meant no offense." Sylvan turned toward Seris, his tone shifting to one of polished courtesy. "Lady Seris, I sincerely apologize if my enthusiasm came across as pressure. I won’t press the matter if you’d rather not. It was merely an earnest desire to learn from your impressive art."

His words were smooth, calculated, and on the surface, entirely gracious.

But the subtle, competitive glint in his eyes hadn’t dimmed in the slightest.

Liana exhaled, visibly relieved. She turned to Seris, gently taking her hand with an apologetic expression.

"I’m so sorry about him, Seris. Sylvan can be incredibly thick-headed sometimes. Please don’t feel any obligation. Just say no, and we can go enjoy the rest of the evening in peace."

But Seris didn’t immediately reply.

Her eyes instinctively drifted past Liana’s shoulder, landing on Rhain.

Rhain met her gaze.

His expression hadn’t changed in the slightest throughout the entire exchange.

"Sylvan is six realms above you. Don’t hold back."

Rhain stated with a flat tone.

Those words carried a clear message for Seris.

He was telling her to agree.

She turned back to Sylvan. "I accept."

Liana’s expression froze. "Seris, wait — you don’t have to—"

"I’ll be fine, Liana," Seris interrupted gently, offering her friend a reassuring smile.

Liana stared at her for a long moment, then slowly stepped aside, her beautiful face clouded with deep concern.

But the moment Liana descended from the platform and returned to the viewing area, she turned sharply toward Rhain, her silver eyes flashing with displeasure.

"Why did you tell her to accept?" Liana demanded, keeping her voice low but intense. "Sylvan is at the ninth level of the Essence Condensation Realm. His foundation is leagues beyond mine, and I already pushed Seris to her limits. She could get seriously hurt!"

Rhain glanced at her, his expression entirely unbothered.

"She will defeat him," he said simply.

"Impossible," a deep, authoritative voice interjected.

It was Solas.

"Young man, I understand you care for your friend, but what you are saying defies all reason. Sylvan is the greatest prodigy our Silvercrest Clan has produced in a century. He has comprehended our clan’s sole Epic-Grade martial art to ten percent within three years. If the two of them were at the exact same cultivation level... yes, I believe Seris might have defeated him. But right now? There is absolutely no chance."

Liana bit her lip, reluctantly nodding in agreement. "Grandpa is right. As much as I loathe Sylvan’s rotten character, his talent and strength is undeniable. You are putting her in extreme danger!"

A short laugh slipped out from Rhain.

"You only think so because you haven’t seen her true strength yet," Rhain casually remarked.

Liana raised an eyebrow. "Her true strength?"

"Just watch," Rhain replied, his gaze shifting to the platform.

Solas and Liana exchanged a skeptical glance. Neither of them believed it. And it wasn’t just them — the young Silvercrest cultivators packing the viewing stands shared the same unanimous judgment.

The veiled fairy was breathtakingly beautiful, and talented.

But against the prodigy of their Silvercrest Clan, it was simply too cruel a matchup.

On the circular platform, Sylvan settled into a wide, aggressive stance.

True to his word, he began suppressing his cultivation, drawing his aura downward from the ninth level.

His essence contracted, layer by layer, like a tide receding from the shore.

"As promised, Lady Seris, I will match your—"

"Don’t bother."

Seris’s quiet, crystalline voice cut through his sentence.

Sylvan blinked, his suppression halting mid-way. "Pardon?"

"Don’t suppress your cultivation," Seris repeated, her pale purple eyes meeting his directly, "You will need it to save yourself."

Sylvan stared at her.

Then chuckled as if he had heard a joke, "As you wish—"

His full ninth-level Essence Condensation aura erupted like a wave toward Seris.

Facing that crushing aura, Seris stood perfectly still.

She slowly raised her Frost-Bite sword, the Rare-Grade blade gleaming under the moonlight.

And then — she closed her eyes.

Hundred Flowers Sword Art!

Swish—!

Behind her delicate figure, the air itself began to freeze.

One by one, icy-blue sword lotuses bloomed into existence.

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty.

The crowd watched, completely paralyzed.

Forty. Fifty. Sixty.

And finally... Seventy!

Seventy perfect, icy-blue sword lotuses hung suspended in the frozen air behind Seris.

But this time, something was profoundly different.

Each delicate, freezing petal possessed a radiant, transcendent silver lining.

Everyone looked at the scene before them with a stupified gaze.

"Seventy percent mastery of an Epic-Grade martial art?" The old patriarch’s voice trembled with disbelief. "In a girl her age?"

Liana pressed both hands against her mouth, her eyes shaking.

She finally understood the meaning of Rhain’s words.

So Seris didn’t even use her true strength against her.

Even Rhain was left dumbfounded.

"Huh?’

’When in the world did this chipmunk reach seventy percent?’

In their private courtyard, she had proudly displayed fifty lotuses.

She had actually hidden her true progress from him!

"W-What..." Sylvan stammered, a genuine fright flashing in his eyes.

But he gritted his teeth refusing to allow himself to show fear before this many people.

A dazzling silver aura erupted around him, and in his hands, his Rare-Grade silver long-sword began to vibrate intensely.

Silvercrest Clan’s Epic-Grade Martial Art — Luminous Moonfall Descent!

He had spent three years comprehending this technique to ten percent.

It was the single greatest achievement of his young life.

Ten percent of an Epic-Grade art at the ninth level of the Essence Condensation Realm was enough to crush any opponent beneath the Spirit Manifestation Realm.

A colossal phantom of a silver crescent moon materialized above Sylvan’s head, bathing the frozen platform in blinding, argent light.

With a guttural roar, Sylvan leaped into the air and brought the descending moon crashing down toward Seris with all the force his body could muster.

"FACE THIS!"

Seris eyes opened, and looked at the incoming attack targeted on her.

Her expression didn’t change.

She lowered her Frost-Bite sword in a single, graceful motion, and seventy icy-blue lotuses surged forward simultaneously.

Seventy streaks of silver-lined, icy-blue light screamed across the platform in perfect formation, merging into a single, unstoppable, torrential blizzard of death.

BOOM!

The colossal silver crescent shattered on impact.

Sylvan’s ultimate, full-powered attack didn’t even last a second.

The swarm of seventy Epic-Grade lotuses crushed through his silver sword light as if it were made of fragile glass.

"No—!"

The lotuses bypassed his shattered defenses and slammed directly into his body.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Multiple dark, freezing bruises bloomed rapidly across his chest and arms.

He crashed heavily onto the stone tiles, skidding for dozens of feet before finally coming to a halt.

His legs buckled. The young prodigy of the Silvercrest Clan collapsed to his knees.

Sylvan was trembling uncontrollably.

He was considered among the strongest of the young generation of Mirravele City, yet he was defeated today by a random girl.

By a girl six minor realms below him.

He was so ashamed that he didn’t even dare to raise his head.

Three years of arrogant pride had been dismantled in a single breath.

"I... I yield..." Sylvan murmured in a low voice.

Around the arena, a collective shudder rippled through the Silvercrest youths.

Their invincible idol hadn’t just been beaten; he had been casually swept aside like a nuisance.

Those young men who had dared to look at her with wrong eyes before felt a chill running down their spine, as they looked at the seemingly frail girl.

What a monstrous little fairy