บททั้งหมดของ Cultivation with a System in the Modern World: บทที่ 191 - บทที่ 200

As Kyle Drakon stepped into the light, an almost ethereal presence seemed to radiate from him. For someone so young, he was nothing short of stunning—majestic in a way that defied mere good looks. His face, strikingly symmetrical with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, carried an air of effortless majesty. His nose was straight and refined, giving him a noble appearance, while his lips, neither too thin nor too full, were naturally set in a calm, unreadable expression. His skin was smooth, almost flawless, as if sculpted by the finest artisan, carrying a faint glow under the arena’s illumination.His jet-black hair, slightly messy yet undeniably stylish, fell in layered waves around his forehead and temples, enhancing the intensity of his features. Each step he took exuded confidence, his strides measured, unhurried—he moved like a sovereign who did not need to prove himself, yet commanded attention wherever he went.But it was his eyes that truly held everyone captive.A deep crims

As the tournament progressed, the excitement in the air reached its peak. The crowd roared in anticipation as each match brought forth new surprises, showcasing the sheer talent and determination of the academy's young warriors. Danial sat with Crystal, both observing the ongoing battles with quiet interest.Crystal turned to him and asked, "You already won two matches. This guarantees your spot in the Final Stage tomorrow. Who do you think your final opponent will be?"Danial shrugged, his expression calm. "I don't know," he replied simply.Just as he finished speaking, movement from the side caught his attention. Pavan had returned from the infirmary, his head and shoulders wrapped in fresh bandages. His steps were steady, but the slight wince as he moved revealed that his injuries hadn’t fully healed.Danial immediately got up and walked over to him, his brows furrowed in concern. "Why are you out of the infirmary? Your body needs rest."Pavan groaned, waving his hand dismissively.

Danial sat in the audience, watching the ongoing matches with mild interest. At first, he paid attention, analyzing the techniques used by different fighters, but after a while, he grew bored. The matches were too predictable, lacking the intensity of the battles he had been in. He tapped his fingers on the armrest, wondering when his final match would come.Crystal, who had been sitting beside him, noticed his bored expression. She smirked and leaned closer. “Danial, let’s go walk around the academy.”Danial glanced at her and considered it for a moment. Sitting here and watching these mundane fights wasn’t going to help him. He nodded. “Alright, might as well.”As they stood up and left the arena, they remained unaware of the shadow lurking in the distance, silently watching their every move.The academy grounds had transformed into a lively hub. Stalls lined the pathways, selling everything from cultivation manuals to exotic snacks. There were booths set up for visitors and student

Egbert stood up while clenching his blade, his entire body trembling. His eyes, wide with disbelief, locked onto Danial as his voice cracked with confusion."How can this be? How could this ever be possible?" he muttered, his face twisted in shock. He staggered back, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "How could your basic technique be so powerful? How could your technique overpower my divine Crimson Reaper Arts? That is not possible. You must have cheated!"Egbert could not accept reality. His technique was not just some ordinary martial skill; it was crafted by Norman Ray, a war deity of immense power and wisdom. The Crimson Reaper Arts were revered as one of the strongest sword techniques, refined through generations, yet Danial’s seemingly simple Sword Drawing Technique had shattered it, breaking through his proudest ability as if it were nothing. It defied all logic. It was unacceptable.Egbert's voice echoed through the now-silent hall, but no one came

Zain did not waste time and immediately rushed towards Pavan with a slashing whip.She leapt forward like a predator, her movements swift and ferocious, the whip in her hand arcing through the air with a venomous hiss. The sound alone was enough to make several spectators flinch.Pavan stepped back and avoided the whip attack and saw the mark on the ground—a testament to the power and durability of the whip.The stone tiles of the arena cracked under the force, the lash leaving behind a long, blackened scar. Dust floated into the air as Pavan widened his eyes."If that whip hits me," he thought grimly, "it will cut me open like butter."Zain followed the attack, twisting her body and lashing out again.She spun like a dancer, her every step precise. The whip cracked once more, slicing through the air like lightning. It came toward Pavan again—fast and merciless.Pavan raised his sword and blocked the whip attack; however, a black mark appeared on the sword, showing the power that the