Moments later, Aurelius regained his formal poise. “Mr. Chance, you possess true talent. The entire Celestia must witness it so their hearts will follow.”
After that, Aurelius instructed Yuliana, “Yuliana, escort Mr. Chance to the martial arts arena. Have Commander Drake of Imperial Guard arrange a friendly bout, let Mr. Chance taste our steel.”
Yuliana nodded. “This way, Mr. Chance… Celestia’s imperial Guard ranks among level six’s finest, and the martial arts arena gathers our most elite cultivators.”
Jared followed, had wanted a clearer measure of Celestia’s strength. True partnership required parity. If every cultivator resembled Westley, all show and no substance-the alliance would crumble.
They left the palace and walked west, toward the martial arts arena in Celestia City.
Along the way, celestial cultivators noted Yuliana‘s deference and remembered how Jared had severed Westley’s arm at the academy. Where once they sneered, reverence then colored their gazes.
***
The martial arts arena exceeded Jared’s imaginings.
Paved with midnight mithril, its floor shimmered with array runes circuits. Dozens of pillars with divine markings ringed the border, each crowned by a floating crystal orb meant to record every victory and defeat.
Hundreds of Imperial Guards trained within, silver armor clashing under a web of golden spiritual energy. Their battle cries thundered so loudly the sky itself seemed to vibrate.
“See the man drilling those cultivators at the center? That is Commander Rylan Drake, head of Imperial Guard,” Yuliana said under breath, as though even the air might carry words back to him. “His veins carry both Draconian and celestial blood. He stands at the razor edge of Earthly Immortal Realm Level Eight. He has unparalleled mastery of his spear. That prowess ranks tenth on Celestia’s martial roll.”
“Draconian?” Jared lifted his gaze.
Rylan Drake rose a full head above the tallest guardsman, eight feet of coiled muscle. Teal hair, bound tight at the nape, rippled like living flame each time the man turned.
A silver spear, longer than a war-horse, glittered in his grasp. Every casual sweep parted the void, popping pockets of air with a shriek that raised the hairs on Jared’s neck.
Rylan felt their eyes. He pivoted, gaze landing on Jared, a crease formed between his brows. To him, Jared was nothing, an Earthly Immortal Realm Level One, clad in plain robes, his spiritual energy muted to a whisper. Hardly worth notice, let alone Yuliana’s personal escort.
“Lady Fiala, who is this?” Rylan reversed the spear with a flourish, metal ringing like struck crystal. He strode toward them, boots echoing over packed clay, arrogance radiating from every step.
In his mind, anyone allowed near Yuliana should at least equal his own cultivation, Earthly Immortal Realm Level Eight. A low cultivation level had no place in the martial arts arena.
“Commander Drake, this is Jared Chance, a guest personally invited by King Aurelius.” Yuliana’s tone was level yet edged with authority that brooked no argument. “King Aurelius has ordered you to arrange a bout so Mr. Chance may witness the strength of Imperial Guard.”
Rylan let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “You must be joking, Lady Fiala… Me, spar with an Earthly Immortal Realm Level One? Celestia would die of laughter. I refuse to smear Celestia’s Imperial Guard’s honor that way.”
Around them, practice faltered. Imperial Guards turned, saw Jared’s low cultivation level, and snickered. Their chatter skittered across the yard like dry leaves.
“Commander Drake is right, one strike and the whelp is down!”
“Probably slipped through some back door just to stand here!”
“I could crush ten of with one hand.”
Jared’s face remained a calm slate.
Words weigh nothing here. Only power seals mouths…
