“You seem well informed,” Jared said, eyes narrowing. “Nothing significant happens at level five without the Holy Light Sect learning of it.”
The smile upon Santino’s lips chilled. “You cut down Jayson Morrow in Swordmaster City and erased Venom Valley, such uproar cannot be hidden. But of all your mistakes, the greatest was walking into my sect.”
“Oh, really?” Jared’s mouth curved in a thin, frosty grin. “You think you can cage me?”
“Test me and learn,” Santino murmured, his eyes flaring with a savage hunger for battle. “If I could harness your Power of Dragons and marked aura, I might break through Earthly Immortal Realm Level Nine and reach the legendary Human Immortal Realm!”
He then drove his palm into the low marble dais before him. The slab burst apart, collapsing into a puff of pale dust.
“Holy Light Technique! Assembly of the Swords!” bellowed, the words cracking through the hall like thunder.
At once, every ornament inside the Holy Light Palace, from silk banners to the twin angel statues, shivered, melted, and stretched into gleaming golden blades.
Tens of thousands of longswords drifted up to the rafters. Runes of pure sanctity flickered across each edge, and their combined presence crushed the air with sacred weight.
Santino’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Behold the Holy Sword Domain, heirloom of the Holy Light Sect. The leader of the Flaxseed clan perished beneath it back then. Now, you will share that fate! Stream of Swords!”
With one flick of his fingers, the golden swarm shrieked awake. Blades tilted in perfect unison, then dove toward Jared like a living storm of razors. The Holy Light Palace dimmed beneath the torrent. The air itself tasted of sanctity and ruin.
Jared’s expression hardened. He felt the holy power woven through every blade, several tiers above Seamus’ Holy Light Sword Art. Yet, no fear stirred inside him. On the contrary, a bright thrill danced behind his eyes.
“Come at me!” Jared shouted, his voice ringing like iron on still water.
He threw back his head and let out a long cry. Within his veins, spiritual energy and marked aura churned together, whipping along his meridians like twin storms. His Dragonslayer Sword answered, erupting in unprecedented gold-and-black light.
The rain of longswords crashed down like a midsummer torrent. Sacred runes hissed through the air, branding the very atmosphere. Even the space rippled in their wake, thin folds of reality fluttering like fabric.
Beyond the radiant downpour. Santino sat in perfect poise, violet robes snapping about him. Unshakable confidence glittered in his eyes.
This Holy Sword Domain is a forbidden technique that has served the Holy Light Sect for millennia and slain the leader of the Flaxseed clan… No Wandering Immortal Realm cultivator can overturn that legacy.
Just before the blades reached him, Jared smiled. There was no terror in that expression, only the fierce delight of a chess master finally granted a worthy opponent.
He stepped forward. Dragon essence and marked aura burst from like erupting magma. Around the Dragonslayer Sword, gold and black light spun into a whirling vortex, wrapping his frame in a spiraling storm.
“Watch me!” roared. Suddenly, the vortex ruptured. From its whirling heart, countless filaments of sword energy burst forth, no straight lances, but living ribbons that writhed and coiled, braiding mid-air into a vast web of black-gold.
Columns of the first golden blades crashed against the mesh, the clash ringing like hammer on anvil. Runic flares blossomed outward, fireworks of light, yet the net held firm and denied every inch.
“Now, this is interesting…” The arch of Santino’s brow sharpened, and a subtle twitch of his fingers redirected the storm. The rain of swords, once scattered like shattered starlight, bent as one and rushed toward a single blazing point.
In a heartbeat, the converging radiance forged a greatsword dozens of yards long. Golden light streamed along its edge, and the weapon seemed eager to split heaven from earth.
“Holy Light Verdict!” Santino bellowed. The greatsword fell with heavenly wrath. Air tore apart, leaving a visible black scar of vacuum in its wake.
Beneath Jared’s boots, white-jade tiles spider-webbed. Cracks raced outward, and the entire Holy Light Palace quaked under the descending pressure.
