I am Villain Cultivator
Chapter 41: The Arrogance of the Storm Dragon

Chapter 41: Chapter 41: The Arrogance of the Storm Dragon

The storm above the Kilvish Clan Arena had not faded since the battle began. Black clouds churned in the sky, a crackling dome of electricity enclosing the battlefield like the wrath of a tempest caged in stone.

Kevin Haze stood tall, wind howling around him. Lightning coiled up his arms and danced along his collarbones like sentient serpents. His hair whipped wildly, streaks of electric blue glowing with intensity. Across from him, Samrat Kilvish lowered his stance, blood dripping from his brow, but his eyes unflinching, dark, steady, and cold.

The air between them was warped, compressed by Samrat’s gravity Qi. The platform cracked under invisible pressure as the force around Kevin thickened, the very space bending and pulling inward.

"Dark Emperor Sword: Third Form," Samrat muttered, raising his blade high. "Crushing Dominion."

The atmosphere shifted.

Kevin’s foot sank slightly into the stone tiles beneath him. He grimaced. His movement slowed, like wading through invisible mud. Lightning sparks sputtered off his body, dulled and drawn downward as if chained.

Samrat strode forward like a force of nature, blade raised.

"You can summon lightning, Kevin," he said, "but you’ll never outrun the weight of the world."

Kevin’s form blurred, trying to dodge, but even his Storm Step faltered under the gravity pull. Samrat’s blade came crashing down.

Kevin blocked just in time, but the impact launched him back, a crater forming where his feet had been. He skidded, rolling once before slamming into the arena barrier.

The crowd gasped.

In the guest pavilion, Divya’s hand froze over. Even Ashen narrowed his eyes, Samrat showed greater strength than he imagined. ’I must keep this in mind, this is the real world, not the world in a novel. Samrat has given the best guidance since childhood, and he is not someone who takes lightly, but Kevin does not even show his Blessing realm.

Kevin wiped blood from his lip, panting, the gravity still pressing on him like a cage. "Tch. You’re slowing my tempo..."

Samrat stepped forward again, voice calm but edged with steel. "Your lightning is fast, but it can’t strike freely when every motion costs you twice the energy."

Kevin didn’t reply.

He closed his eyes.

And then, he exhaled.

The sky roared.

A pulse of Qi surged from his core, rippling through the air—the swirling storm clouds above pulsed in response.

Kevin opened his eyes, and they now glowed with pure electric blue. His aura expanded, wind gusting outward, blowing back the gravity field with sheer elemental force.

"Thunderstorm Art: Domain of Tempest Winds."

A cyclone descended.

The howling wind wasn’t just a storm; it was infused with Qi, slicing through the battlefield. The pressure eased as the wind currents pushed against Samrat’s gravity, disrupting its structure. Kevin’s feet left the ground, hovering as he embraced the eye of the storm.

Samrat’s brow furrowed. His domain cracked.

Kevin vanished.

Then reappeared—right above Samrat.

"Thunderstorm Art: Sky Ripper Fang!"

A spear of lightning condensed in Kevin’s hand, glowing blindingly white with hints of violet. He hurled it downward.

Samrat raised his blade, summoning another gravitational wave. "Gravity Well: Collapse!"

The two forces collided.

But this time, the storm won.

A flurry of electrified strikes hammered Samrat’s defenses, each punch, each kick disrupting his Qi flow. The gravity blade in Samrat’s hand flickered, its edge dulling.

One final thunder-clad fist slammed into Samrat’s chest.

CRACK!

The sound of breaking ribs echoed as Samrat was launched backward, skidding across the arena floor. Blood trickled from his lips, his sword clattering beside him.

Kevin landed with a flash, steam rising from his body, his robes torn and singed.

Samrat tried to stand, but his legs buckled. His sword dropped to the ground with a dull clang.

The arena went silent.

Then, Elder Varun’s voice rang out.

"Victory... goes to Kevin Haze of the Storm Clan!"

A thunderous cheer exploded through the arena.

Kevin exhaled, his aura fading. He glanced back at Samrat, who sat on his knees, breathing heavily.

"You almost had me," Kevin said, walking past him. "Your gravity messed up my rhythm... but you forgot something."

Samrat looked up with bloodshot eyes.

Kevin offered a faint smirk.

"You can weigh down the lightning... but you can’t stop the storm."

Blood dripped steadily from Samrat’s shoulder as he staggered to one knee, humiliated, bruised, and scorched. The arena, once a place of roaring support, had fallen into stunned silence. Whispers flickered through the stands like sparks in dry grass.

Samrat’s chest heaved. His pride, built on years of cultivation, lineage, and the weight of expectations of his father, felt heavier than ever. He clenched his jaw, eyes burning with rage and shame. The pain of his wound was nothing compared to the sting of defeat.

"This isn’t over!" he shouted hoarsely, glaring at Kevin through gritted teeth. "You haven’t beaten me yet!"

Boom.

Before the words fully left his mouth, Kevin Haze vanished.

A streak of wind and lightning cut through the air.

In the blink of an eye, Kevin appeared before Samrat like a phantom of wrath, his arm moving faster than most could follow. A spear of condensed lightning surged from his palm and pierced Samrat’s injured shoulder with a violent crackle.

"Get lost."

With a flick of his leg, Kevin sent Samrat flying. The proud son of the Kilvish Clan crashed outside the barrier of the arena, rolling across the stone courtyard in a heap.

Gasps echoed across the arena.

Kevin stood tall in the center of the battlefield, silver-blue lightning sparking from his shoulders, his robe torn, but his expression untouched, calm, yet contemptuous.

He turned slowly, eyes sweeping over the stunned crowd.

Then, he remembered Elder Adaeze’s words from just days ago:

"The Kilvish Clan has produced four finalists worthy of matching you, Kevin. This generation may rival even the greats."

Kevin scoffed.

"One down," he said aloud, his voice infused with Qi, making it echo like a clap of thunder across the stands. "Now, three of you remain."

He raised a hand, pointing toward the crowd.

"If you’re afraid, you can come together," he declared, eyes gleaming with stormlight. "All three of you. At once."

The arena erupted into chaos. Disciples stood. Elders whispered in disbelief. Anger boiled in the veins of the Kilvish Clan’s younger generation. Their faces darkened with outrage. No one dared insult their clan so openly. The Kilvish were titans of the Azure Continent, their pride unshakable. Yet here stood the Young Storm Dragon, mocking their strongest heirs.

To openly insult the pride of the Kilvish Clan on their sacred grounds was unforgivable.

And yet... no one stepped forward.

Kevin’s gaze settled on two familiar figures in the crowd: Ashen and Divya.

Kevin’s smirk deepened as he stared directly at Ashen.

"Well? Are you coming or not?"

Ashen expression remained unreadable, but his mind raced.

’If I fight here, I’ll have to reveal the Absolute Shadow talent—the Founder’s legacy. Once the clan knows I’ve inherited it, I’ll become a target.’

He exhaled slowly, then raised his hand.

"I surrender."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but no one protested. Ashen was only a Warrior Rank 3 cultivator. Against a Foundation Realm monster like Kevin, the outcome was inevitable.

Kevin wasn’t surprised. He had expected this outcome.

His gaze shifted to Divya, his voice dripping with condescension.

"Then what about you?" His tone was sharper now, laced with the arrogance of a noble looking down on a peasant. "Do you dare?"

The air grew heavy. All eyes turned to Divya.