The Dawn sky above Flowing Cloud Sect had long since lost its serenity.
What once shimmered with tranquil starlight was now drowned beneath waves of fire, smoke, and clashing spiritual light. The ground trembled beneath every explosion. The wind howled with sword-qi. Screams, commands, and desperate final breaths melted together until they became a single symphony of chaos.
The war had fully descended.
⸻
The front courtyard of the Flowing Cloud Sect resembled a blood-soaked battlefield.Craters scarred the ground, deep cuts sliced through stone walls, and entire pavilions lay in ruins.
Two elders of Flowing Cloud Sect—both at the Middle stage of Foundation Establishment—moved like streaks of cyan lightning, their figures blurring as they unleashed their arts.
"Flowery Swords Art!"
Dozens of translucent sword-petals burst forth, swirling elegantly yet striking with lethal precision.
Beside them, another technique erupted—
"Golden Turtle Defense—Shell Manifestation!"
A massive, golden shell formed behind them, shimmering with layers of Qi reinforcement.
Across from them, the Azure Heaven Sect elders fought with everything they had.
"Azure Sword Style—Second Form: River-Cutting Slash!"
A deep azure hue washed over the dawn light., colliding with the swirling sword-petals. The impact sent gusts of spiritual wind sweeping through the battlefield, knocking disciples off their feet.
One of the Elder of Azure Heaven Sect—a middle-aged man with silver hair tied back—grit his teeth as the impact pushed him backward. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, but his sword remained steady.
"Hold them!" he shouted. "Keep the formation intact at all costs!"
The two Flowing Cloud elders laughed coldly.
"Your Formation is already finished!"
The battle raged, each exchange brutal and explosive.
Azure sword light clashed with flowing-cloud energy.
Divine arts collided, tearing apart flags, stone pillars, and protective wards.
The courtyard floor shattered repeatedly under the pressure.
A disciple screamed as he was sliced open by a stray wave of sword-qi. Another was crushed under falling debris. Bodies accumulated on both sides, but none had the luxury to stop and acknowledge the dead.
The Elders of Azure Heaven Sect fought with admirable tenacity—but the Flowing Cloud pair were veterans of countless battles.
At a critical moment, the elder using the Flowery Swords Art narrowed his eyes.
"Third Bloom—Heavenly Spiral!"
The sword-petals converged into a spiraling ring of death, slicing through everything in its path.
"Elder Zhao!" someone cried.
A final explosion burst forth.
The silver-haired elder took the attack head-on, pushing another elder aside. The spiraling petals drilled through his chest with terrifying ease.
He staggered, then slowly looked down at the gaping wound where his heart had been shredded.
Yet… his sword still moved.
With a final burst of life, he roared:
"Azure Sword Style—Final Form… Cleaving Horizon!"
His strike carried the last embers of his life.
And it was enough.
The spiraling sword-petal user couldn't dodge. The azure blade cleaved him in half from shoulder to hip before the dying elder collapsed onto the ruined ground.
One for one.
The battlefield fell silent for a breath.
Then chaos resumed.
The remaining Azure elder, enraged and bloodied, charged at the last Flowing Cloud elder. Their fight devolved into feral close-combat—sword against bare hands, Qi clashing in violent bursts.
But the Flowing Cloud elder, already wounded from the Cleaving Horizon, couldn't maintain his defense.
A final thrust pierced his throat.
The elder of Azure Heaven Sect collapsed moments after, heavily wounded and barely conscious.
The courtyard eventually quieted, but only because most who once stood were now dead or too injured to move. The ground was painted in blood, broken weapons, and shattered hopes.
⸻
At the center of the sect, the true earth-shaking battle unfolded.
Sect Leader Jian Wuhen's sword shone with starlight, each strike creating arcs that illuminated the devastated surroundings.
Opposite him stood the First Young Master of Flowing Cloud Sect Li shenhai—a tall man with a cruel smile. His hands were wrapped in surging Golden Qi, laced with flames that distorted the air.
A ring of disciples had tried to support Jian Wuhen earlier—but all had been killed in an instant when Li shenhai unleashed his area-of-effect flame techniques.
Now only the two of them remained, locked in a duel that rattled the heavens.
Jian Wuhen exhaled slightly.
"Star Luminous Swordsmanship—First Form: Curvature."
His sword bent like moonlight bending through water. It traced an arc so subtle it seemed impossible to block.
But the First Young Master smirked.
"Golden Turtle Defense!"
A golden shield enveloped his figure. The curved strike slid across it, carving a deep groove but failing to shatter it.
The shield dissipated, but he did not stop.
His palm gathered Qi.
"Star Burst!"
A blast of needle-like star fragments exploded outward. Jian Wuhen raised his sword in a spinning motion, deflecting most of them, but several pierced his arm and shoulder.
He didn't flinch.
He stepped forward.
"Star Luminous Swordsmanship—Second Form: Mountain Splitter!"
A vertical strike descended like a falling star, carrying the momentum to split mountains.
The First Young Master crossed his arms and roared—
"Six Flames Sword Art—Blooming Pyre!"
Six blazing swords manifested behind him, shooting forward like comets. They clashed with the Mountain Splitter, creating a violent shockwave that obliterated nearby structures.
The ground trembled. Pillars snapped. Roof tiles rained down.
Both men were pushed back several meters.
Blood dripped down Jian Wuhen's arm.
Flames burned along the First Young Master's ribs.
They stared at each other across the ruined battlefield.
Jian Wuhen inhaled.
His sword rose again, shimmering brighter than before.
"Third Form: Moon Slash."
A crescent arc of pure starlight carved through the battlefield, illuminating everything in pale silver. For that brief moment, the world seemed silent—frozen in moonlit stillness.
The First Young Master's expression darkened.
He tore open his palm, summoning a dark Black flame that radiated pure destruction.
"Flame Annihilation Art!"
He slammed his palm toward the ground, creating an expanding dome of exploding flame.
Moonlight and flame collided.
The explosion blazed across the dawn sky, bright enough to mimic a sudden, premature sunrise.
The impact ripped apart the sect walls, turned the earth molten, and annihilated dozens of distant fighters who were caught in the edge of the shockwave. Roughly half the remaining troops of both sides were vaporized or thrown across the battlefield with fatal injuries.
Jian Wuhen was thrown violently to the side, crashing through a stone pillar. His sword arm hung at an unnatural angle, barely attached.
The First Young Master staggered, coughing blood. His chest was caved in, and flames flickered uncontrollably across his body.
Yet neither fell.
They stepped forward.
One last time.
Jian Wuhen whispered, voice faint but unwavering:
"Fourth Form… Annihilation."
His sword—broken at the tip—glowed with all remaining starlight. It was a strike with no technique, no flourish.
Only intent.
Pure destruction.
The First Young Master responded with madness in his eyes.
"Six Flames Sword Art—Final Blaze!"
The six fiery swords merged into a single beam of annihilating flame.
Star and flame collided.
But this time—
Jian Wuhen's sword won.
It pierced through the fiery beam, through the First Young Master's chest, and exited through his back.
The man froze.
His eyes widened.
Then he collapsed, lifeless.
Jian Wuhen fell to one knee, breathing heavily. His entire right arm was charred, the bones visible beneath the burned flesh.
But he remained alive.
Barely.
Around him, the remnants of both armies lay scattered—dead, moaning, or simply too exhausted to stand.
The front gate had turned into a graveyard.
⸻
Far from the central battlefield, the armoury grounds burned quietly.
When Aelric had passed earlier, there had been fifty elite defenders stationed here.
Now—
Only corpses remained.
Dozens of Azure Heaven elite units lay motionless, many with arms severed or torsos crushed. Blood soaked the earth, forming dark pools beneath their bodies.
Among them stood Liang Shen.
Or rather—what remained of him.
His body was drenched in blood, most of it not his own. One of his arms was gone from the elbow downward. His robes were tattered, barely hanging onto his frame. He swayed like a wilted leaf in the wind.
Opposite him lay the crushed corpse of the Flowing Cloud elder he had fought.
Liang Shen exhaled shakily.
"So this is how I die… ahh, I should've at least confessed to her."
Despite the joke, his knees nearly buckled.
He turned toward the armoury door, clutching a talisman with trembling fingers. His breathing grew shallow—each breath wheezing through cracked ribs.
But his eyes held no fear.
Only determination.
He forced a smile.
"All… for the Azure Heaven Sect."
He ignited the talisman.
Flames engulfed it instantly.
Liang Shen stumbled forward, pushed the burning talisman into the armoury—
And in the final three seconds of his life, he looked toward the sect, as if hoping someone might remember him.
The explosion that followed was earth-shattering.
A pillar of fire erupted into the sky, consuming the entire armoury. Weapons detonated, sending metal fragments raining for hundreds of meters. The shockwave blew apart nearby structures and sent dust clouds rolling across the battlefield.
Liang Shen disappeared within the inferno.
A silent end.
But an honourable one.
⸻
Meanwhile, Aelric stepped through the fading smoke toward the section where the Flowing Cloud elder awaited him. The elder's Qi surged violently, distorting the air around him. He towered with killing intent, eyes burning with hatred.
"Who are you?" the elder spat. "If you won't answer… then die!"
He rushed forward, Qi swirling around his fists.
Aelric lifted his gaze—invoking the pressure-point technique through eye contact.
…Nothing.
For the first time, it failed.
He felt it immediately.
The elder's internal organs were wrapped in a dense protective layer of Qi, blocking Aelric's blood-based interference.
The elder sneered, "What trick are you trying to pull? Die!"
Aelric wasn't surprised.
He simply observed.
The elder slammed his palm forward—
"Flowing Cloud Palm!"
A wave of force warped the air.
Aelric slid aside, movement silent, eyes calm.
Another strike followed.
"Flowing Qi Swords!"
Dozens of thin blades of Qi shot forward.
Aelric weaved through them effortlessly, his steps subtle yet perfectly timed. His expression remained Calm—watchful, curious, almost like a scholar studying a new phenomenon.
The elder grew frantic.
"How—how are you dodging everything?!"
Aelric didn't answer.
His eyes quietly tracked the elder's breathing, stance, and rhythm.
Then—
A mistake.
A momentary lapse in the elder's guard as he cursed in frustration.
Aelric's fingers curled.
Blood gathered instantly in his palm, swirling into a shape of sword.
A Sharp.
Silent.
Deadly.
He stepped—
Traceless Divine Steps.
A single movement.
Faster than sound.
Before the elder could even react, the blood-formed sword pierced his chest. The impact sent a fountain of blood bursting behind him.
The elder staggered, eyes wide, limbs trembling.
Aelric looked at him with quiet crimson eyes—cold, detached.
"A… monster… what attracted him to our sect?" the elder whispered, collapsing.
Aelric stepped over the corpse without pause.
⸻
As he approached the sect hall, the flames cast long shadows across the ruined courtyard. Charred corpses lay everywhere. Blood dripped from broken pillars. The once-proud sect hall now stood cracked, half its roof blown away.
Footsteps sounded.
A figure emerged.
A man wearing a mask—one identical to the Rakshasa mask Aelric had seen in the traitor's memories.
The masked man paused.
Aelric stopped.
Their eyes locked.
The world fell silent for that single moment.
Aelric's shadows stirred faintly behind him.
The masked man tilted his head.
The two stood facing each other amidst ruin, blood, and fire.