Gathering Storms Beneath the Martial Arena

The Ancient Martial Arts Conference finally arrived.

Morning sunlight spread across Valemont like flowing gold, illuminating the towering buildings and old stone streets of the city. Yet beneath the calm appearance of the bustling metropolis, an invisible tension had already begun tightening around the Old Martial Arts world.

As per tradition, this year it was the Lockheart Family’s turn to host, so the venue was naturally the Lockheart Family Martial Arts Hall.

The Lockheart Family Martial Arts Hall stood on the outskirts of Valemont like an ancient beast rooted firmly within history. Massive crimson pillars supported the entrance hall, while black-and-gold banners fluttered gently beneath the morning wind. Rows of red lanterns hung overhead, swaying softly as disciples moved busily around the venue preparing for the arrival of guests.

The scent of incense mixed with tea leaves lingered faintly in the air.

At first glance, the atmosphere looked festive.

But anyone with sharp instincts could feel the danger hidden beneath the celebration.

As the second-ranked household in Valemont’s Old Martial Arts world, the Lockheart Family’s strength was quite formidable.

They had three Silver Realm Old Martial Arts experts and a full fourteen Iron Realm practitioners.

While their strength wasn’t as great as the Tyson Family, they were still vastly stronger compared to most other households and sects in Valemont.

Today, the entrance of the Lockheart Family Martial Arts Hall was decorated with lanterns and banners celebrating the conference.

Golden cloth banners danced in the wind with words wishing prosperity and martial glory. Servants welcomed arriving guests with respectful bows while disciples stood guard around the entrance wearing matching dark martial uniforms embroidered with the Lockheart insignia.

Various forces from the Valemont Old Martial Arts world arrived one after another.

Luxury black vehicles gradually lined the road outside the hall.

Representatives from powerful households stepped out one after another.

Sect masters.

Martial instructors.

Veteran fighters.

Young geniuses.

Old monsters hiding behind calm expressions.

Everyone had arrived.

Unlike previous years, there were more participants this time.

In the past, a household or sect would usually send three or four people.

But today, many households and sects sent all the Old Martial Arts practitioners they could.

The atmosphere quickly became crowded.

And oppressive.

Many people noticed it immediately.

Small whispers quietly spread through the crowd.

"Why did the Earth Muscle Martial School bring so many people today?"

"The Blackstone Household usually sends only elders..."

"Something feels wrong..."

Several household and sect leaders looked displeased.

These were naturally the unfortunate people already controlled by Evan.

Some had been poisoned.

Others had Bright Life Sucking Leaches secretly planted within their bodies.

Their lives no longer belonged to themselves.

With death hanging over their heads at any moment, who could possibly remain calm?

Some of them avoided eye contact entirely.

Some forced fake smiles.

Others sat silently with cold sweat hidden beneath their robes.

At the entrance, Charvi Lockheart stood personally greeting the arriving forces with a broad smile on his face.

Today, he wore a dark-red martial robe with gold embroidery around the sleeves. Though he appeared calm outwardly, excitement flickered repeatedly within his eyes.

He had waited too long for this day.

For years, the Lockheart Family had remained suppressed beneath the Tyson Family’s shadow.

But today—

Everything would finally change.

"Patriarch Rex."

"Master Wystan."

"Please come in."

"Hahaha, thank you for honoring us with your presence."

Charvi greeted everyone enthusiastically like an old friend.

Yet beneath that smiling face hid dangerous ambition.

Soon, another convoy slowly approached the Martial Arts Hall.

The Tyson Family had arrived.

The moment they stepped out, countless gazes turned toward them almost instinctively.

Yana Tyson walked at the front of the group.

Her long black hair swayed gently beneath the morning wind while her bright orange eyes remained calm and sharp. She wore a fitted black martial coat over a dark combat skirt, the fabric hugging her voluptuous curves perfectly while still maintaining the dignity of a martial household heiress.

Behind her stood numerous Tyson Family experts.

Far more than usual.

Even the younger generation had arrived in full force today.

Seeing this scene, Charvi Lockheart narrowed his eyes slightly in surprise.

In previous years, the Tyson Family would send around ten people to the conference.

But today, it seemed like they had come out in full force.

Except for Wren Tyson, who couldn’t travel easily, everyone from the Tyson Family who could breathe was there!

Even the surrounding spectators began whispering quietly.

"What’s going on?"

"Did the Tyson Family notice something?"

"Why bring this many people?"

Charvi quickly suppressed the unease in his heart and revealed a strange smile instead.

"Yana Tyson," he said slowly, "is your family planning a tag-team battle this year? That’s against the rules."

Several Lockheart disciples nearby laughed softly.

But Yana merely raised an eyebrow coldly.

"I’m just bringing them to observe and learn. Is that not allowed?"

Her voice sounded calm.

But hidden beneath that calmness was clear hostility.

Charvi smiled wider.

"Of course, it’s allowed. Even if you’re just here for the food, the Lockheart Family welcomes you."

As he spoke, he extended his hand politely toward the entrance.

The more people you bring, the better.

After all, it’s your Tyson Family that will be embarrassed today.

Yana naturally noticed the mockery hidden inside his words.

She snorted coldly and led her household members inside without another word.

As she walked forward, her eyes occasionally swept across the surroundings carefully.

Too many unfamiliar faces.

Too many hidden experts.

Even the air itself felt heavy today.

Her hand unconsciously tightened slightly around her phone inside her sleeve.

According to her conversation with Julian D’Aurelius, once the time was right, Julian would come in and attack a guy named Evan.

At that time, the Tyson Family experts would immediately join forces and surround him together.

That was their plan.

Simple.

Direct.

Brutal.

But for some reason, Yana couldn’t calm down.

Something about today felt deeply wrong.

The Lockheart Family Martial Arts Hall had a dedicated arena capable of accommodating hundreds of spectators.

The arena itself sat at the center like an ancient battlefield.

Stone flooring.

Massive pillars.

Weapon racks displayed proudly around the edges.

Rows of elevated seats surrounded the fighting stage while banners representing different households hung overhead.

Even with over a hundred people gathered today, it didn’t feel crowded.

Yet despite the noise of conversations, tea pouring, and martial disciples moving around—

An invisible silence lingered beneath everything.

Everyone present felt it.

Seeing that there were significantly more participants than in previous years, everyone present felt a strange atmosphere.

There was an inexplicable sense of oppression, though no one could pinpoint why.

Even veteran martial artists who had survived countless battles felt uncomfortable.

Some kept glancing toward the exits instinctively.

Some silently circulated their internal energy beneath the table.

Some younger disciples had already stopped talking entirely.

Meanwhile, hidden among the crowd—

Several people secretly exchanged glances with one another.

Their eyes carried strange darkness.

These were naturally Evan’s controlled pawns.

And they were waiting.

Waiting for the moment blood would spill across this arena.

Yana Tyson occasionally checked her phone.

Her brows furrowed slightly each time she looked at the screen.

No messages.

No updates.

Nothing.

Julian had said he would arrive when the timing was right.

But now—

The conference had already begun gathering momentum.

Household leaders were taking seats.

Disciples were entering formation.

Even the referees had arrived.

So where was he?

A faint unease slowly spread inside Yana’s chest.

Her orange eyes swept once more across the crowded Martial Arts Hall.

But there was still no sign of Julian D’Aurelius anywhere.

But where was he?