Return of the Mythic Bloodline-Chapter 338: Core Disciple Selection Competition

The book was written less like a history record and more like a collection of heroic tales. My battle against Iskandor, Father’s summoning of the Soul Domain, and Uncle Stormir’s clash against the Archdemons all felt like myth when I read it. In truth, none of the events recorded were false or exaggerated. The narrative aligned perfectly with my memories, right until the final Chapter, when the Ultimate War began.

It stated that after the grand feast, the soldiers of the Empire returned to the capital, while the Thunderbanes chose to remain for one more day to properly rest before their departure.

That night, an army of ten million demons launched a sudden ambush on the exhausted and injured Thunderbanes. The clash between the Thunderbanes and the demonic army continued for several hours, unleashing devastation so catastrophic that it completely destroyed the Sentinel Line.

As soon as the imperial army received the news, they rushed to the border. However, they were too late. When they arrived, the Thunderbanes had already been martyred after wiping out ninety percent of the demonic forces.

According to the records, the only survivor from the Hundred Sky Mountains was the Snow Goddess, Nymeria El Snowbane.

"What kind of nonsense is this?" I muttered, my blood boiling with fury as my fingers dug into the book until it crumbled into scraps of paper.

The author of this book, Legend of the Mythic Bloodline, was none other than Rhaegar, the bastard who had stabbed his blade into my chest.

Now that I had realised how these bastards had manipulated history, it was entirely possible that my parents were still alive.

"Rhaegar, the sequel to this filth you have written shall be Return of the Mythic Bloodline, in which I, Taranis El Thunderbane, return from death and shred you to pieces along with the very Empire you are so proud of," I muttered, burning the book to ashes.

---

A raised platform composed of various interconnected tiles stood in the open ground of the sect’s Inner Court. On one side of the platform sat twelve elderly cultivators, both men and women, seated on chairs.

On the opposite side, two more chairs were placed, occupied by Lyra and Thorin, the Core Disciples.

The surrounding area was filled with Inner Court disciples who had gathered solely as spectators.

Standing on the platform itself were twenty Inner Court disciples. Fifteen of them were Thunderbanes, while the remaining five, including myself, were those they referred to as outsiders or lowborn.

From what I had gathered over the past few days, the twelve old masters, these fifteen Inner Court disciples, and the two Core Disciples were the only Thunderbanes left.

There were also women whose sons or husbands had fallen in the war, but they were all non-combatants and now lived peaceful lives in the city below.

Once everyone had gathered, Master Robert rose from his chair and announced in his old, husky voice, "This year, we surprisingly have more participants eligible to become Core Disciples. To avoid prolonging the competition, we have decided to proceed with the Last Disciple Standing trial. At the end of one hour, the only disciple remaining on the platform will qualify for the next stage. If none remain standing, or if more than one remains, then no one will qualify."

Casting a brief glance in my direction, Master Robert continued, "Teaming up to target another participant, the use of weapons, and causing critical injuries are all permitted. However, you must not kill another disciple. If we sense a life in danger, we will intervene immediately. The moment any part of your body, or even the robe you are wearing, touches the ground, you will be disqualified."

The instant he finished speaking, I felt several sharp gazes pierce into the back of my neck.

"This old man," I muttered inwardly. "He deliberately added those rules, knowing that I would be targeted by every Thunderbane eager to reclaim their lost honour."

"Your one hour starts now!"

The moment the words left his mouth, all the participants instantly leapt away from me, gathering on the opposite side of the platform.

"Br-brother Lucifer, you really are something else," Rowan gasped, standing beside me. "How can someone earn this much hatred after spending only a week in the sect?"

"You surely jest, Rowan," I replied. "I do not think I have offended anyone. I spend every day cultivating diligently."

"..."

"H-how can you say that so shamelessly after what you did to us, bastard?" Cedric shouted angrily from among the opposing group, having heard me loud and clear.

Not only him, even Thorin, seated outside the platform, could not help clenching his fists, clearly restraining himself from jumping in.

"What did you just call me, Cedric?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. "You must have forgotten the lesson I gave you last week."

A demonic smirk curled across my face as I stepped toward them, clenching my fists.

"I-I’m not afraid of you! There are eighteen of us and only two of you!"

"Oh? Then why are you covering your cheeks?" I asked.

The poor man was instinctively shielding his face with both hands, his body remembering the trauma of the slaps he had suffered the previous week.

"And by the way, what about all that talk earlier about upholding your honour by fighting me one on one, now that you are ganging up on me?" I asked, folding my arms.

"That only applies to humans, not to a monster like you!" Cedric snapped, drawing his sword. The rest of them immediately followed, pulling out their weapons.

"Let’s give that arrogant bastard the beating of his life!" 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"Show him the might of the Thunderbanes!"

"Slap him! Slap him!"

All eighteen of them were at the second or third level of the Awakened Sage Realm. In the Abandoned Lands, I had nearly lost my life fighting even three cultivators of that level.

Although I had reached the Mid Tier Realm as well, I did not know the true difference in strength between us, as I had not properly fought anyone since entering the Transcendent Realm.

"I suppose I should not hold back too much, or I might truly lose."

As they closed in, a compact sphere of crimson lightning materialised in my hand.

"Lightning Bolt: Version

Galactic Punch."

The instant I launched my fist, the entire platform blazed red with crackling lightning, while a violent storm of compressed air sent dust and debris blasting outward.

However, it was not only debris and dust that were thrown away. All the disciples who had attacked me were hurled helplessly through the storm, even though they had wrapped themselves in Soulforce.

"Oops..." I murmured, facepalming.