“The Infinite Soul Demon Sect has pushed us far enough. Did they truly believe Mystic Sky Sword Sect was some pliant fruit waiting to be squeezed?” Linden’s words clanged through Skycrest Hall like tempered steel striking an anvil, ringing from pillar to vaulted ceiling.
“Hear my decree! From this breath onward, every cultivator of Mystic Sky Sword Sect has to prepare for battle. Summon every elite, disciple, elder, all. Leave only a crew to guard the peaks. The rest march with me to Blood-Scar Plains, straight to the heart of the Infinite Soul Demon Sect!”
“Their main force has slunk out to ambush our home; we shall cleave first into theirs, cut the serpent at the belly, and grind their scheme to dust before they can even turn around!”
“Yes, sir!” the elders roared, their vow rattling roof-tiles while currents of sword aura burst upward, threatening to spear the heavens.
A legendary blade long kept in scabbard finally flashed free. Mystic Sky Sword Sect, still razor-keen after its years of quiet, now pointed its edge toward the Infinite Soul Demon Sect’s black heart.
In that instant, the hall itself seemed to breathe, timbers groaning like war drums, as the chosen of Mystic Sky Sword Sect surged out into the pale dawn.
***
Blood-Scar Plains lay under a suffocating quilt of demon mist. Rank upon rank of black-armored soldiers stretched to the horizon, their combined malice blotting out the sun.
At their head stood Sheldon Soulsby, spine straight, chin lifted, ready to hurl this tidal host against the Myriad Beast Sect and scrub away past humiliations.
Just as he raised his hand to begin the rousing speech he had rehearsed, a streak of panicked demon-light tore across the rear ranks and skidded to his feet, quivering.
“Sir, this is bad! Master Cloudridge of Mystic Sky has led a massive sword corps onto Blood-Scar Plains without warning. Three outposts fell in moments. Our defenders were annihilated. Their blades are rushing straight for headquarters!”
“What?” Sheldon’s triumph cracked, leaving only a raw, incredulous rasp. “Has he gone mad? How dare he assault the Infinite Soul Demon Sect first?!”
Confusion clawed at him. Seconds ago, victory tasted certain; now it curdled on his tongue.
Unbeknownst to him, Jared had planted airtight evidence pinning the planned sneak attack on Mystic Sky Sword Sect’s gate to Sheldon himself.
Now his lair was attacked, his foundation trembling. Fury surged up his throat, hot, coppery, almost spilling as blood. Every stratagem, every righteous wrath broke apart under that single stab in the back.
Attack the Myriad Beast Sect now?
By the time we arrive, Mystic Sky Sword Sect will have gutted our nest. The Infinite Soul Demon Sect will become a stray cur, nowhere left to stand.
“Fall back!” he bellowed. “Now!”
Veins bulged across his brow as he shrieked, “We crush those sword-wielding lunatics first, then grind the Myriad Beast ants beneath our boots!”
Thus, the war machine known as the Infinite Soul Demon Sect, barely aimed toward the mountains, was forced to grind its gears, swallow its pride, and wheel around in chaotic haste.
The columns that had been rushing forward moments ago snapped into an about-face. Swordsmen who had just been the rear guard now sprinted as point men, racing toward their own fortress in a desperate bid to reinforce it.
The billowing demonic cloud rolled across the sky like an ocean turned upside down, yet inside its swirling darkness, there was a palpable agitation, the feverish disorder of a plan suddenly thrown into chaos.
This full-scale war, ignited solely by Jared’s unseen hand, had entered a searing crescendo from the very first clash.
On one side, surged the Mystic Sky Sword Sect, prepared, furious, their blades honed to a merciless edge.
Thousands of sword cultivators locked themselves into a rotating battle array, a colossal wheel of steel and light that scythed forward, each revolution shedding sword-light like a summer cloudburst.
Their purely positive sword energy—sun-bright and unyielding—ripped through the miasma of demonic qi, melting it like frost beneath noon daylight.
Individually, the swordsmen were terrifying, but together, moving with choreographed certainty, every burst of their sword art filled the air with the shriek of space being cleaved.
On the other side, the Infinite Soul Demon Sect had raced home in haste, their bellies full of spite and their sorceries twisted, venomous, and cruel.
