At that moment, with the ancient weapon Chiyou's Divine Sword in his grasp, Wei Zhuang—once the very image of cold arrogance—had been transformed. His aura turned sinister, bloodlust boiling off him in waves. The sword's ancient malice coiled around him like a living curse, filling the hall with suffocating killing intent.
When Aedric strode into the chamber, Wei Zhuang's eyes narrowed in displeasure. His voice was sharp and cold.
"You? Where is my senior brother, Gai Nie?"
"Oh, him?" Aedric smiled casually. "Busy flirting with the High Priestess right now."
He added with a shrug, "You know, your senior brother isn't young anymore and still single. This is the first decent woman he's met in decades. Once an old flame catches, well… it burns out of control."
Under normal circumstances, Wei Zhuang would've dismissed such nonsense with disdain. But under the corrupting influence of the sword's demonic aura, his temper had become volatile, his mind clouded by emotion. The moment he heard those words, fury and jealousy erupted inside him like wildfire.
Impossible! My senior brother… belongs to me!
How could that High Priestess steal him away?
Rage twisted his expression. "Shut your mouth!" he roared, eyes flaring red with wrath.
"Oh?" Aedric blinked, feigning realization. "So that's it. You have feelings for—"
"Silence!" Wei Zhuang's roar cut him off. He lunged forward, swinging Chiyou's sword in a vicious overhead slash that split the air itself.
Yep, Aedric thought as he raised his own sword to block, definitely hit a nerve.
The two blades collided with a deafening boom, the shockwave blasting through the chamber. Both men were forced back several paces, each gauging the other's strength with newfound respect.
Aedric glanced down at his own True Martial Sword, finding it unscathed. Relief flickered in his eyes.
Good thing I reforged it with Valyrian steel and the Night King's dragon crystal. Otherwise, that strike alone might've shattered it.
After all, Chiyou's blade wasn't just any weapon—it was a relic once wielded by the Demon God himself. No "low-tier" sword from a martial world could hope to withstand its might.
With his confidence restored, Aedric shed all hesitation. His sword whirled through the air, forming countless shimmering Taiji sword circles, each radiating frost and balance. They expanded outward, surrounding Wei Zhuang like a storm of spinning yin and yang.
Wei Zhuang's fighting style was pure ferocity—his Zongheng Sword Technique, the "Horizontal Path," emphasized overwhelming force and direct power. Combined with the demonic energy of Chiyou's blade, his attacks became wild and devastating, a tempest of murderous intent that even Aedric felt pressing hard upon him.
Yet, Taiji was the embodiment of balance and deflection. Every mighty blow from Wei Zhuang was swallowed into Aedric's swirling sword pattern—force meeting softness, rage meeting calm, until all momentum dissolved into nothingness.
"What sword style is that?" Wei Zhuang growled, frowning. "There's… something Daoist about it."
Even in his fury, his warrior's intuition could read the essence of the technique.
Aedric chuckled. "Taiji Sword Style."
As he spoke, he made a small twisting motion with his blade—so subtle yet so perfectly placed that the sticky pull of Taiji energy nearly sent Wei Zhuang off-balance. The swordsman barely steadied himself, scowling.
"Are you of the Heavenly Sect or the Human Sect?" Wei Zhuang demanded.
"Wudang disciple," Aedric replied calmly, all while diverting strike after strike with ease.
"Never heard of it." Wei Zhuang snarled, leaping high into the air. He gathered every ounce of strength into his blade and came crashing down like a falling mountain.
"Then learn of it—by dying!"
"Then allow me to educate you," Aedric murmured, smiling faintly.
With a single, precise motion, his sword intercepted Chiyou's in mid-descent—exactly at the balance point of its force. A twist, a pull, a redirection—
and Wei Zhuang's massive strike veered harmlessly to the side.
"Damn you!"
No matter how violently Wei Zhuang attacked, Taiji's flow absorbed it all—soft overcoming hard, stillness conquering motion.
Frustration mounting, he drew a deep breath and let the demonic power surge through his veins. The air around him crackled. He was gathering strength for his strongest technique—
The Horizontal Slash of Eight Directions.
"Ah, crap," Aedric muttered as the very air thickened with killing intent. Even before the blade fell, the pressure alone made it hard to breathe.
He instantly expanded his sword defense—layer upon layer of shimmering Taiji circles overlapping like rippling water, culminating in the style's ultimate defense:
As Sealed, As Bound.
"Boom!"
The impact hit like a meteor.
It felt to Aedric as if a train had slammed into his chest. His sword circles shattered one after another, and he was flung backward, sliding over ten meters before he managed to plant his feet and steady himself.
"Whew…" He flexed his wrist, feeling a dull ache from the shock. Still smiling, he shook his head in admiration.
"To think someone could actually break my Taiji defense head-on. Wei Zhuang, you're truly something."
"Damn you…" Wei Zhuang panted heavily. That had been an all-out strike, empowered by Chiyou's demonic might—stronger even than his usual peak form.
And yet, though he'd crushed the Taiji barrier, he hadn't even scratched his opponent.
That sword style… its defense is monstrous.
He glared, demanding through clenched teeth, "Who created this Taiji Sword Style?!"
Aedric's mind flashed back to an old, gentle face—the wise, smiling elder who had once guided him patiently. Pride welled up in his chest.
"Founder of the Wudang Sect—Grandmaster Zhang Sanfeng."
"Never heard of him," Wei Zhuang said through gritted teeth, "but I'll remember the name."
He straightened, sword poised once more. "Your defense is impressive, but defense alone can't win."
"You're right, Master Wei Zhuang," Aedric said with a faint chuckle.
Then, to Wei Zhuang's utter confusion, he reached behind his back—and drew another sword.
The second blade was massive, black as night, and pulsing with fiery energy.
Wei Zhuang blinked. "What—where were you even keeping that thing?!"
Aedric twirled both blades—his right hand holding the icy-blue True Martial Sword, his left gripping the blazing Blackfyre Sword. Frost and flame flared simultaneously, twin forces of yin and yang spiraling around him in perfect harmony.
"Forgot to mention," Aedric said lightly, his eyes gleaming. "I'm a dual-sword user."
Raising both swords, he centered his breathing, channeling his inner energy to its peak. Ice and fire twisted together, a cyclone of opposing elements swirling around his body.
Wei Zhuang tensed instinctively as Aedric smiled.
"Now then," he said softly, "allow me to show you what true balance looks like—attack and defense as one, the ultimate sword style…"
He lifted both blades, power humming between them.
"Behold, Wei Zhuang of Flowing Sands—the Supreme Might of Taiji!"
~~--------------------------
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