“Understood,” Jayson said, nodding. Nevertheless, his shoulders remained arrogantly loose. In the matches that followed, Jayson plowed through two more Earthly Immortal Realm Level Four opponents. His Sky Havoc Sword Art split the air like a lightning cleaver, earning a seat among the final eight.
Across the brackets, Hendrix of the Seven-Star Sword Sect dazzled the crowd as well. His Seven Shooting Stars Sword Art blossomed into seven overlapping blades that turned overhead like the constellation itself, snaring every rival in a net of starlight and steel.
The quarter-final drew Jared against a disciple from the Glacial Sect, an Earthly Immortal Realm Level Five fighter whose Glacial Sword Art could freeze an opponent’s spiritual energy with a single breath.
At the opening gong, the disciple swept his sword and unfurled a curtain of frost mist that swallowed the platform whole. Inside that shivering cloud, needle-thin icicles rained down on Jared in relentless sheets, each shard alive with killing chill.
To the watchers below, Jared’s form slipped In and out of view like a man strolling through a garden.
Wherever the Dragonslayer Sword flashed, ice spears splintered, and the frost mist recoiled as though ashamed to touch him, leaving a widening circle of clear air around the cairn figure at its heart.
“T-This… This is that the legendary sword domain?” the opponent blurted, voice cracking like old wood.
Sword domain was said to belong solely to cultivators who had crossed into the Earthly Immortal stage, masters able to bathe reality itself in their sword intent and sculpt a battlefield as personal as breath.
Jared, however, still wore the mantle of a mere Wandering Immortal Realm Level Eight. By every rational measure, comprehending the sword domain should have been impossible.
A ragged cry split the swirling mist. When the icy veil dissolved, the Glacial Sect disciple stumbled backward, clutching a blood-slick chest. Crimson salted the snow at his boots, and the sword prized lay sheared into two pathetic lengths.
Jared stood motionless at the center of the arena. His blade gleamed, unmarred, as though it had tasted no violence at all.
“I… I concede,” his opponent rasped, shame clouding his eyes. He pivoted and half-fell from the platform, defeat dripping from every step.
A hush engulfed the arena, a silence so complete it thundered louder than any cheer.
A Wandering Immortal Realm Level Eight cultivator, comprehending sword domain, had defeated an Earthly Immortal Realm Level Five, every mind found it absurd.
“He hasn’t merely defied nature,” someone whispered. “He’s changed it course.”
At the foot of the dais. Corin trembled so hard the hems of his robe shivered.
He sensed that Jared’s display was not a true sword domain but a wall of sword intent compressed to a razor edge, less vast, yet exponentially deadlier than anything equal peers could muster.
For all his studies, even Corln felt humbled. The silver-haired steward of Swordmaster City lurched to his feet, palms slamming together in rapturous applause.
“Magnificent! Jared, magnificent!” roared, laughter booming across the rafters. “To witness such genius before I return to dust! What outrageous fortune!”
On the VIP terrace, sect leaders and elders nodded in reverent agreement, every gaze upon Jared blazing with newfound respect.
Only Jayson sat stone-faced, the darkness in his expression pooling like oil.
He had dismissed Jared as a lucky wandering cultivator, now unease slithered through his chest, whispering that this upstart might become the sharpest thorn on his path to the crown.
A quiet dread took root and would not loosen its grip.
Jayson leaned toward Lester, voice pitched low enough to hide the quiver beneath it. “Mr. Lester, this Jared…”
The unfinished plea trembled in the air.
Lester’s reply came ice-cold. “Childish tricks…”
He said, eyes narrowing to slits. “In the quarterfinals, meets Hendrix. We shall see whether his circus wall can withstand real starlight.”
Hendrix’s Seven Shooting Stars Sword Art had long since entered mastery. As an Earthly Immortal Realm Fifth Level on the very brink of the next realm, ranked an entire league above the wounded Glacial Sect disciple.
To most observers, Jared’s earlier miracle would end against this prodigy. And so, the final quarterfinal was set, Jared against Hendrix.
Anticipation crackled through the arena like static before a storm, every spectator’s attention converged upon the looming duel.
On one side stood the tournament’s ultimate dark horse, a Wandering Immortal Realm Level Eight cultivator whose sword intent had already felled giants.
Opposite waited the Seven-Star Sect’s famed disciple, his cultivation polished to a near-perfect shine. Though neither man had yet moved, an invisible pressure rolled across the platform, bending the torches and squeezing breath from onlookers’ lungs.
Hendrix stepped forward in a flowing sapphire robe, lifting a silver sword studded with seven cerulean gems, the sect treasure known as the Seven-Star Sword.
