After two relentless hours battling Spirit Beasts, the realm convulsed—space twisted, the sky roared—and every cultivator was hurled into another plane.
But Jalen never touched the ground like the others.
The Origin Shard, embedded deep in his spirit core, seized control the second he materialized there. Then, like a celestial meteor yanked by unseen cosmic threads, his body surged upward, dragging Jael—tucked against his shoulder—in a blazing streak across the sky. The shard moved with urgency, as if destiny itself was calling. They flew over ten miles of fire-forged terrain before plummeting toward a massive tree at the forest's core.
Jalen's forced Flaming Spears slammed into the tree's trunk. This was cause by one part of the third Technique of the spirit flame Art: Dual Phoenix Flame pulse. A shockwave collapsed reality. Formations guarding the tree disintegrated, and the air cracked with celestial tension. A hole opened—revealing a hidden sub realm of molten fury, bathed in radiant flame qi and crawling with powerful fire-type beasts.
But Jalen didn't see beasts.
He saw it.
At the heart of this infernal sanctuary stood a relic unlike any other. Floating above obsidian pillars and spiraling flame-etched runes, one of the supreme grade flaming spirit tool present within mystic ground: Solblade Khopesh: Crown of Embers radiated raw dominance.
Its blade, crescent-shaped, seemed carved from crystallized fire. Phoenix sigils burned across its spine. Even the air bent around it, refusing to touch something so divine. Qi quaked. Reality folded.
Jalen didn't hesitate; he summoned Luminal Edge cutting flame beasts in clean, lethal arcs as he moved toward the treasure. Each swing was precise, elegant—a visual symphony of slaughter. Jael clung to his shoulder, head nestled against his neck, protected by a cocoon of light qi.
Then five minutes into Jalen's clash, all the cultivators who chased after him stumbled into the sub-realm, and the first thing they took note of was the Khopesh.
Named factions and rogues charged at it. Greed blurred reason. Cultivators from rival sects clashed. Spirit beasts lunged. Qi turned savage. It was a very vicious battle.
The Squad and the five mercenaries eventually arrived at the scene, but they didn't waste time like the others; they were just there to get Jalen, and so in no time they caught up to their target, who was floating next to the spirit tool, trying his best to crack the formation but failing to do so.
Lionel, the squad leader, stepped forward in the sky. His blade was simple. His aura was terrifying.
"You have two options, kid," he said. "Come quietly. Or die screaming."
Jalen didn't blink.
Approximately fifteen feet away, Princess Jaya tensed. She moved to intervene, but Walford's grip stopped her. "You can't," he whispered. "This order comes from the emperor. Interfere, and they'll come for you, too."
"But there has to be a way—" she pleaded.
"There isn't," he cut in sharply. "And you're not strong enough. You help that boy now, and every royal in the empire will mark you."
Her fists trembled. Her heart warred with duty.
Back to Jalen—the five elite mercenaries lunged, each wielding unique weapons.
One wielded a flaming halberd. Another used serpent-blade poison strikes. Two wrapped wind into spiraling vortex blades. The fifth conjured fire wings laced with steel feathers.
They didn't just fight—they executed refined styles honed over decades.
The halberd wielder bulldozed forward, strikes broad and brutal—his rhythm lacked nuance, but his force bent air itself.
The poison blade rogue danced erratically, feinting with disjointed tempo—her attacks weren't linear; they were traps wrapped in serpentine grace.
The vortex-blade twins synchronized like mirrored stormfronts. One baited with tight spirals, the other struck through the distraction, forming layered patterns Jalen had to thread like needlework.
The winged mercenary used aerial pressure—not just flight, but dominance from above. Every steel-feather burst came with a spatial ripple, making timing impossible to predict.
Jalen didn't exploit flaws—they gave none. But he read micro-movements, caught the twitch before intent, and turned reaction into rhythm.
Jalen activated Luminous Veil Step, vanishing mid-strike and reappearing above. Luminal Edge surged—light qi braided through its spine in tight, radiant coils.
His blade didn't just gleam. It flowed.
With Luminal Edge, he struck not in force but in rhythm—Threading Loop Resonance coiled light qi through his limbs, spiraling impact through muscle and bone. Each swing detonated with condensed control, not scattered flares.
Mercenary One's halberd swung again—but Jalen moved through illumination, not motion. Luminous Veil Step shimmered across beams from a molten geyser; he reappeared behind his foe before they could blink.
But before he could use a follow-up blow, Lionel struck at him like a lightning bolt. He barely managed to dodge that unscathed before sensing seven binding flaming chains snapped toward him from the second member of the squad.
But they bent. Cracked. Refraction Field Bloom pulsed around him like a second skin—twisting hostile attacks into spirals of collapse, sending shockwaves back toward their caster.
The third squad member, a silent cultivator cloaked in ember mist, conjured glyph spheres from his palms—detonation-based formations that hovered like predatory embers. Each sphere locked onto Jalen's afterimages, forcing him to redirect or risk being cornered.
Jalen didn't stop.
Not now.