Still, pride forced him to sneer. “What’s wrong, scared? Admit your earlier victory was blind luck while you still can, and I may let you walk away!”
Paxton turned to Jared, features grave. “Jared, Elder Aileron spoke in anger. You have already dismantled the Threefold Beast-Soul Array; your strength is verified. One million celestial gems will be delivered at once, and a seat among our elders remains open for you. The Beast-Slaughtering God Array is lethally unpredictable. There is no need to force the matter.”
Everyone seemed certain Jared would seize the easy path. After all, he had earned respect and reward aplenty—why invite more danger?
Yet once again, Jared’s response veered far from expectation. He ignored Paxton’s caution, ignored Gavin and Yvette’s frantic pleas, and did not so much as glance at Arden’s taunting stare. Instead, his eyes drifted past the altar into the shadowed depths beyond, as though some greater power there tugged invisibly at his spirit.
A faint smile—half amusement, half curiosity—ghosted across his lips.
“Beast-Slaughtering God Array?” he echoed softly, nodding once, confidence thrumming beneath the calm. “Sounds… interesting.”
He shrugged, as if selecting a dish from a tavern menu. “Very well, bring it on.”
Gasps rippled across the viewing stands—an inhalation so sharp it seemed the air itself froze.
Insanity. Absolute, unvarnished insanity!
That was the only thought echoing in the minds of every disciple of the Myriad Beast Sect.
Jared has lost his mind!
He had done the unthinkable. He had accepted the challenge—had volunteered, in fact, to try the fabled Beast-Slaughtering God Array.
For a heartbeat, Arden’s hawk-bright eyes blinked in disbelief. Then savage delight curled his thin mouth.
“Sect Master Riftclaw,” he announced, palms clasped as though in earnest petition, “this arrogant cub dares belittle our sect’s crown formation. Grant permission to activate the Beast-Slaughtering God Array and teach him how high the heavens truly stand!”
Paxton studied Jared in brooding silence. There was no madness in the youth’s gaze, no tremor of fear. Only a depthless calm that made the floor seem suddenly fragile beneath their feet.
Paxton’s broad shoulders rose and fell once. He dipped his head in solemn assent.
“Approved,” he said, voice low as rolling granite.
At that single word, the entire place erupted like a struck hive.
Nine core disciples, each at least Level Four of the Heavenly Immortal Realm, strode onto the Myriad Beast Altar.
Their placement was precise, marking unseen vertices of a grand design. Muscles tensed, jaws set, they understood the weight they carried.
All at once, they poured their techniques into the pattern beneath their boots. Nine colossal spirit-beasts—vast echoes of a bygone era—tore skyward in translucent fury: dragon, tiger, lion, phoenix, python, eagle, bear, wolf, tortoise.
Their roars plowed the clouds apart. Energy sluiced toward the altar in spiraling torrents. A luminous dome the size of a small city snapped into existence, sealing the arena in a storm of killing intent.
Inside that shell, the howls of beasts overlapped. The pressure pressed even distant onlookers to their knees, lungs constricted as though a mountain had settled on their chests.
Only now did the spectators glimpse the true, hidden power of the Myriad Beast Sect. This formation could slay gods one realm above its wielders.
“Friend…” the disciple standing at the nexus warned, voice strained beneath the crushing aura, “this array shows no mercy. Withdraw now, while you still control your fate.”
Arden sneered. He could already see Jared being torn to shreds.
Jared tilted his head back, studying the nine snarling beast spirits as gale-force power battered against his robes. Even a Level Six Heavenly Immortal would tremble here, yet his heartbeat never quickened.
“Now we’re talking,” he murmured.
The instant the words fell, he moved—swift, decisive, a single brushstroke of intent.
The Dragonslayer Sword sang, a clear, crystalline cry, as the blade leapt of its own accord into his waiting palm.
The ordinary-looking man now radiated a force that split the sky—a raw sword will that dared every spirit beast to charge. He became a drawn weapon himself, edge bared to the cold air, brilliance flashing across the entire altar.
Light flared along his silhouette, too bright to stare at, until it seemed the whole world shuddered beneath that singular sword intent.
