Terror slammed into Jayson’s soul; spun, thinking only of flight. But, it was too late. Jared blurred, one ghostly step, then was already before the fleeing man. The Dragonslayer Sword ignited, a column of golden light that seemed cut from the heart of a star, and came whipping down in righteous fury.
“N-No… No!” His cry echoed off the stone as destiny crashed down. A sickening, wet rip followed. The sound of bone parting from bone shrieked through the arena, the kind of noise that makes teeth ache and stomachs revolt.
Before the stunned crowd, Jared’s single stroke cleaved Jayson from crown to pelvis. The halves slid apart like pages of a ruined book, spilling their crimson script across the platform.
Organs thudded to the floorboards. blood pooling around them in dark, steaming lakes. The scene was so brutal it seemed torn from a nightmare that decent people pretend cannot exist.
Silence fell, total, absolute. Even the flags overhead forgot to flap, as though the world itself dared not speak after witnessing such savage finality.
Nobody had imagined Jared would end Jayson so cleanly, so mercilessly. The swiftness of it rattled their bones more deeply than any prolonged torture could have.
On the VIP terrace, Lester shot to his feet, face dark as storm iron. “Jared! How dare you murder a swordsman from Sacred Sword Manor!”
“A back-stabber forfeits his right to breathe,” Jared answered, voice icy. “To spare would disgrace justice itself.”
He planted the sword tip on the plank floor for support, gave Lester a glance colder than permafrost, then turned away. One hand clamped over his wounded shoulder, began stepping off the arena.
Sunlight washed over him, yet it carried no warmth. It only sharpened the edge of the slaughter lingering around his silhouette, making onlookers shudder as though winter had walked away with him.
The duel ended in a blinding instant, yet its echo thundered across the arena. With that strike, Jared displayed not only power that defied heaven itself but a merciless decisiveness that froze every onlooker in place.
From that moment on, Jared’s name would be branded into countless hearts, an inkstroke of awe that time itself could never erase.
For three long breaths, the grandstand sank into deathly silence. Then the spell shattered, and the crowd erupted in a roar so loud it rattled the banners overhead.
“H-He killed someone!”
“Jayson… Is really dead?”
“He was an expert in Earthly Immortal Realm Level Six, cleaved in two by an Wandering Immortal Realm Level Eight!”
On the VIP balcony, Lester’s pupils shrank to pinpoints. His fingers burrowed Into the rosewood armrest until the polished surface cracked, knuckles bleaching paper-white.
Fixated on the mangled corpse sprawled upon the stage, loosed a caged-beast growl. Spiritual energy surged unchecked around him, ripping fresh seams through his brocade robe.
A primal scream tore from his throat. The shout cracked like thunder. In the same heartbeat, Lester blurred forward, a streak of wrath hurtling toward the arena, intent on bringing the heavens down with him.
The crushing aura of an Earthly Immortal Realm Level Eight condensed into a mountain-sized weight. Weaker cultivators below buckled at once, their knees slamming against the stone, blood glistening at the corners of their mouths.
“Jared, I’ll tear you apart piece by piece!”
Just before Lester’s palm could touch Jared, several figures shot onto the stage like arrows loosed from an overdrawn bow, forming a living shield around him.
At their head stood Corln. He leveled his longsword across his chest, the blade quivered as the oppressive aura churned Lester’s organs, yet his spine remained ramrod straight.
“Mr. Lester, stand down!”
A dozen Sword Sect disciples rushed in behind him, blades raised. The light from their sword arrays wove a luminous net, sealing Jared safely at its center.
“Jayson surrendered, then struck without warning. His death was well deserved. Are you really going to abuse your rank to avenge such treachery, Mr. Lester?” Lyra looked at Lester angrily.
Lester’s gaze was sharp as a poisoned blade. It swept over the Sword Sect disciples blocking his way and finally fixed on Jared. “Abuse my rank? That wretch butchered my disciple. None of you can save today!”
“Butchered?” Corin let out a grim laugh, pointing his sword toward Jayson’s corpse. “Open your eyes, Mr. Lester… Who launched a sneak attack after conceding? Who spat on the very spirit of the blade? Jayson shamed Sacred Sword Manor and paid the price.”
“You’re courting death!” Stung to the quick, Lester snapped his palm toward Corin instead, the air slicing open in its wake.
“Quite the display of authority, Mr. Lester!” An aged voice drifted across the arena as Qivius Massey, steward of Swordmaster City, stepped onto the stage. With a casual flick of his cane, dissolved Lester’s Incoming palm wind like mist In the morning sun.
“This is Swordmaster City,” said, tone mild yet immovable. “You will not run wild here.”
