Ararat‘s voice dropped to a steely murmur. “If we meet them head-on, we will be crushed. Our only hope is to fortify these walls and pray for rescue… I have already sent word to a few old comrades in Swordmaster City. May fond memories move them to fight alongside us.”
Jared shook his head, amber eyes lit by a stubborn flame. “We can‘t wait. If Lester is bold enough to march here, has prepared for every delay. Each minute we hesitate tilts the field against us.”
He swept his gaze over the anxious faces crowding the hall. “If they appear at dawn, I’ll step outside and greet Lester myself.”
“Absolutely not!” Corin darted forward. “Lester is at the eighth level of the Earthly Immortal Realm. You are nowhere near his equal.”
Jared offered a smile that barely touched his eyes. “Trust me, Master Morden. I have a way.”
He raised his hand, and the storage ring on his finger gleamed. A bow slid into the starlight, its frame obsidian black, filigreed with tangled gold sigils. A hush of dragon’s power coiled around the weapon.
Ararat‘s pupils pinpointed. “That… That is the Divine Bow. I thought it lost to legend, yet you hold it in your hands!”
“The bow amplifies my strength,” Jared said, palm gliding along the bow. “With it, I might stand toe-to-toe with Lester.”
Kishor let out a low whistle, admiration slicing through his usual bravado. “You sly fox! Hiding treasure in plain sight. With that beauty, we might flip the entire board!”
Ararat‘s expression hardened again. “But unless the sky itself is falling, you must not draw it. The Divine Bow is a sacred item. Using it would cause bigger trouble.”
Jared fell silent, the truth of Ararat’s warning pressing on his chest.
***
Night deepened, yet the Sword Sect was brightly lit.
Everyone was preparing for the battle. The sound of creating charms echoed throughout the sect.
Alone on a tilted rooftop, Jared watched a crescent moon bleed into clouds. Cold wind tugged his robe, but his fingers stayed warm against the Divine Bow, feeling the ancient heartbeat slumbering inside maple-dark wood.
“Mr. Vermilion, what game are you playing?” Jared whispered into the night, hoping the wind might carry the question to whatever shadow listened.
Only silence answered. Since that one brief warning in the Darkwind Gorge, the Vermilion Demon Lord had vanished again, unreachable no matter how loudly Jared’s spirit called.
Suddenly, the storage ring pulsed, as though something inside had awakened and was impatient to be freed.
Jared‘s pulse kicked against his ribs. He slipped the reach of his spiritual sense into the storage ring. The fire unicorn had grown in size, a haze of crimson light breathing through.
“Huh? Is it about to ascend?” Jared breathed, the question tasting of wonder and dread. Joy flared through like sparks off flint. If the fire unicorn broke through, it would stand beside in the coming siege, an ally worth an army.
Jared carefully put some resources into the storage ring to feed the fire unicorn. Near the fire unicorn, the Celestial Devourer sprawled on its back, snoring loud enough to rattle dust, its round belly rising and falling without the faintest sign of new growth.
“You always eat and sleep… If you can listen to me, Lester would be as good as dead,” Jared grumbled. “Tomorrow, we may end up fighting shoulder to shoulder. Be ready…”
Jared‘s gaze lingered on the fire unicorn.
Plain sword technique will crumble against Lester‘s ranks. Resolve hardened. Jared would unlock every secret art buried in his blood and bones.
He would use the Divine Bow, fire unicorn, nascence power, the Power of Dragons, the Power of Three, etc.
Survival demanded exposure. Better to stand naked beneath the sun than be buried with his secrets still chained inside him.
***
Dawn bled pale across the east when Swordmaster City’s alarm bells erupted, their metallic shriek ripping the hush from the newborn morning. Jared tightened his grip on Dragonslayer Sword, eyes narrowing. “They’re here…”
At the city’s east gate, a black tide of warriors poured forward, hemming the Sword Sect compound on every side.
Seated atop a monoceros demon beast, Lester surveyed the outer wall. His purple-gold armor caught the newborn light, and an ornate longsword rested on his waist.
Behind him, ranks stretched outward: Blood Guards of the Sixth Hall, demonic cultivators from the Malevolent Path Hall, and experts from a dozen sects. The air itself seemed to hiss with killing intent.
“Jared Chance! Crawl out and die like a man!” Lester’s roar cracked against the stone ramparts. Ararat stepped onto empty air and drifted above the parapet, white robes brighter than fresh snow. His sword leveled at Lester. “Lester, you dare run wild in Swordmaster City. Did you ignore my existence?”
