This should have been Bertrum's moment to laugh, to gloat, but there was something about that gaze that made him feel so small that he didn't even have the mind to do it. In fact, his mind was blank even as everything wrapped up, slowly flowing toward the next matter.

"Theron…" Lyra's words came out in a soft whisper. She seemed to want to comfort Theron, but she had no idea how to.

A failed Tribulation meant the end of one's cultivation path. The Heavens didn't give a second chance. It was a miracle that Theron had even survived.

He would be far more powerful than normal Quasi Gold Mancers, but he would forever be a Quasi Gold Mancer.

It was no wonder he was so much more withdrawn now.

Lyra took a breath and squeezed out a reassuring smile.

"What's most important is that you survived. You're already more powerful than most Cloud Mancers. You can still live like a king," she said softly.

Her words made the sneers on the Nightingale Elders' expressions freeze.

Lyra was right. So what if Theron could never become a Gold Mancer? From the perspective of Nightingale Sect disciples, he was still a god they couldn't touch.

He was probably still the most powerful individual of their entire Sect until now.

And who knew—maybe with his genius, he could figure out other ways to strengthen himself?

Theron only nodded, not responding. No one had any idea that his Tribulation might be the reason he was acting like this, but it wasn't at all for the reasons they were assuming.

His mind was both elsewhere and nowhere all at once. He didn't want to think about anything, but he was forced and cursed to do so.

He went through the motions, barely registering the changes to things moving around him as they moved toward the Trial of Heart.

…

"IMPOSSIBLE."

The booming voice even caught Theron's attention, let alone everyone else's.

At the moment, Theron stood amidst the top ten disciples. Of the number, there were the usual suspects. Unsurprisingly, of them all, there were nine members of the Hall, and the only outsider amongst them was Theron himself, who made up both first place and the tenth member of their count.

The one who spoke was Grand Elder Milone. He seemed to be being quite purposely loud with his nonsense, his Mana carrying his voice far and wide.

"You want a cripple to partake in such a thing? Absolutely not."

"It is not your decision to make," Lyrah replied indifferently.

Her scope of the world was far larger than others. She knew of the differences between Soul and Mana, and she was well aware that even if Theron had failed his Mana Tribulation, there were still good odds he could progress in his Soul.

The Trial of Heart was a test of the soul. If Theron was allowed to participate, then with his genius, he could likely cross the barrier of Gold Mancy with his soul.

Even if his Mana would still be lacking, his Mandates would grow stronger, and his Mana control would skyrocket. As powerful as he was now, he would still grow a decent margin stronger.

While it would be impossible for him to be of any help to her against the Umbra Clan, if he had the strength of a Quasi Dome of Heaven expert, he could definitely still help her with the Hall.

Plus, he was still in control of that sliver of her soul. She wasn't willing to give up on him entirely just yet.

"Daboryah deserves the tenth spot," Grand Elder Milone said coldly. "I will not stand idly by while you not only give such an opportunity to an outsider but also a cripple."

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

Theron didn't really know what was happening. Everything felt like such a blur. He wasn't fully conscious of when they got here, let alone why this argument was happening in such a public spectacle.

Usually, these elders would certainly choose to keep this sort of dispute hidden. It was odd that people who were usually so reserved and controlled would snap like this. It made one wonder.

Theron stood in a line of nine other disciples. They were ranked from first place to last.

This Daboryah should be the eleventh person in the ranking, and Grand Elder Milone was fighting in her stead.

It only took Theron a glance to see that the person most adamant about this in the lineup of disciples near him was Rose, the third place amongst them all behind himself and Orin only.

She should be the second-ranked Core Disciple of the Hall, and it seemed her relationship with Daboryah wasn't bad.

However, something told Theron that Rose wasn't only doing this out of the kindness of her heart. And neither was the Grand Elder.

Politics.

More of this annoyance.

It was so predictable it made him sick to his stomach. Not only did these people play with lives as they pleased, they didn't even deign to use clever enough methods to hide their own stink.

The Grand Elder probably realized that he was quickly losing leverage to control Lyrah, so he wanted to take a more public swing at her reputation.

Lyrah was trying to stick up for Theron—someone who was both a cripple and an outsider. Even if he was her disciple and she wanted him to join the Hall, what good was a cripple to the Hall? And if he didn't join the Hall, then why were they giving such a good thing to an outsider?

At the same time, Theron wouldn't be surprised if Daboryah represented another faction the Grand Elder wanted to rope in.

Predictable.

Predictable.

Predictable.

The world didn't even have the decency to be interesting in its utter nonsense.

Theron's gaze turned to Lyrah just as she looked toward him.

"Let her fight for it," Theron replied indifferently.

There was a cold edge to his tone that cut across the air like a blade.

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