Santino stared in blank confusion. Flaxseed and the newly conscious Corin shared the same stunned expression. The notion that Ararat, lord of Swordmaster City at the top level of the Earthly Immortal Realm, would call Jared, a cultivator in the ninth level of the Wandering immortal Realm. as his master was absurd.
Regaining a shred of arrogance, Santino bared his teeth. “Do not think I fear you, Ararat! This is the Holy Light Sect. Even a swordmaster will obey or bleed here, and you…”
He never finished his words. Ararat moved. Nobody caught the moment the sword left his scabbard. One instant, the courtyard simmered with tension. Next, a silver streaked across the air so fast it seemed to shear daylight itself.
In the afterglow of that fleeting arc, Santino froze, face twisted in mid-snarl, every vein on his temple bulging like frayed rope. He did not fall. He stopped where stood.
A hair-thin crimson line blossomed across his throat. Then, in utter silence, man and armor shattered into countless motes of gold and white, glittering like dying stars before the wind carried them away.
The leader of the Holy Light Sect had just been erased in the span of a heartbeat. The plaza descended into silence. Disciples of the Holy Light Sect went pale as bones. Some collapsed to their knees, yet not one found the courage to run.
Ararat sheathed his sword and halted before Jared. He offered a respectful bow and said, “Mr. Chance, forgive the disturbance…”
Jared, only now prying himself free from stunned disbelief, said, “You… You’re the leader of Swordmaster City?”
Ararat smiled and nodded. “That is correct. The city is under my guardianship.” Jared’s brows climbed, curiosity overtaking shock. “Then who is the man currently in charge?”
“He’s my servant. Since my absence, guarded the Swordmaster City,” Ararat replied, voice low and steady.
“Mr. Chance, since you saved me from the Celestial Stairway, I returned to level five to cultivate. I never leave the Swordmaster City and show myself… Until I heard your name that I knew you are in level five. I never expect your cultivation to progress so fast…”
“I need to take responsibility for putting you in danger.” Ararat felt guilty since had promised to serve Jared for three hundred years.
Jared laid a hand on Ararat’s arm. “I’m alive, aren’t I? Don’t blame yourself. Besides, Kishor is somewhere up here as well.”
“I am aware,” Ararat replied, eyes narrowing with quiet amusement. “He is keeping company with his childhood sweetheart.”
Behind them, Flaxseed and Corin listened, jaws slack, as though reality had taken a sharp turn they could not map.
Corin in particular. He accepted Jared as a Sword Sect disciple. However, the swordmaster was Jared’s lackey. The revelation left teetering on the edge of disbelief.
“Mr. Goizeder…” Corin stepped forward and bowed with solemn grace, the way an apprentice greets a mentor.
Sword Sect survived on the goodwill of Swordmaster City. In level five, Ararat‘s sword technique was legendary, fitting for the leader of Swordmaster City. Ararat returned the courtesy, brow furrowing. “Forgive me, but your name?”
Jared gestured to introduce them. “This is Corin Morden, leader of the Sword Sect, my Master.”
Recognition flashed. Ararat inclined his head more deeply. “An honor, Mr. Morden…”
Corin waved both hands as ifthe titles burned. “Jared, please spare me the honorifics. Compared with Mr. Goizeder’s sword technique, anything I once taught you is child’s play.”
Corin rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassment splashing across his usually placid face.
“If Mr. Chance wishes to learn my sword technique, I will hold nothing back,” Ararat said, his voice gentle yet carrying the weight of iron vows.
“Later…” Jared answered, calm but resolute. “First, we clean up the mess right in front of us.”
Ararat nodded once. His gaze swept the shaking Holy Light Sect disciples, then sharpened into winter steel. “They are a nuisance. They shouldn’t exist.”
Jared said nothing. The calm in his eyes granted silent permission.
