“That old coot Oswald nearly dueled me on Skyblade Cliff three centuries ago over a single shard of star iron,” Blaine uttered, tipping back a horn of blood-red liquor. “Once he sets his mind on something, there’s no budging him. And you want him to join forces with outsiders? Hah! Not a chance!”
Blaine thumped the cup down, embers popping in the fire as he turned once more to Jared. Winslow stroked his beard. “Stubborn he may be, but Oswald is no fool. Malevolent Path Hall is getting too powerful. Even he should understand that Heavenly Sword Pavilion can’t hold out by itself.”
Blaine snorted, “You want to reason with that sword-obsessed madman? There’s nothing in his head but swords! Unless you can beat him at the sword, you could argue till the heavens fall, and he’d dismiss every word as nothing but noise.”
Jared murmured, half to himself, “Beat him at the sword?”
Blaine’s gaze flicked over Jared. “Listen, Jared… Even though Oswald is only at Top Level Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Nine, it’s said that his swordsmanship has reached a level where he can become one with the sword. I know you are formidable, but swordsmanship isn’t your specialization…”
“I may not need to surpass him completely… Just enough to make him listen,” Jared interrupted. “All we need is to let him glimpse that beyond the sword lies even stronger powers of law, vast enough to make him acknowledge us. Mr. Leedon, what about the Five-Element Sect?”
Blaine answered with a crooked smile, “Aurelian Metalhart is a cunning one. The Five-Element Sect has spent centuries locked in a quiet civil war among its five branches. He keeps the throne not by strength, but by balancing their grudges…”
“Solve that infighting first, or the moment your back is turned, those branches will be brawling over whether an alliance even matters.”
Gerald stroked the singed tips of his beard, voice rumbled like magma beneath stone. “The root of the Five-Element Sect’s troubles lies in an imbalance among the five elements. Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—each branch vies for the sect’s resources, each seeking to become the dominant branch. If they can be guided toward a true balance of the five elements, their internal strife will resolve itself.”
Jared fell silent, then tipped his chin toward the small fire unicorn perched on his shoulder. “Little one, you were born breathing the laws of nature, weren’t you? Can you trace the flow of the five elements?”
The tiny beast yipped and lifted a claw. Sparks unfurled into shimmering orbits—gold, green, blue, scarlet, ochre—whirling until they locked into a perfect, humming wheel of elemental balance.
“Marvelous!” Winslow exclaimed as his eyes flared bright. “The Five-Element Sect drills each branch alone and forgets that the elements live to complement one another. If we use chaotic celestial energy as the catalyst, and supplement it with this fire unicorn’s sensitivity to the laws of nature, we just might be able to help them rebuild that balance!”
Jared rose, cloak whispering. “Then our first stop is the Heavenly Sword Pavilion. Mr. Leedon, may we borrow a few flying beasts?”
“Borrow? Take them!” Blaine said with a wave of his hand. “Thunderwing!”
A piercing shriek split the clouds as the Thunderwing Golden Eagle King, wings wider than a city avenue, feathers veined with living lightning, dove to the terrace in a storm of crackling gold. Blaine gestured toward the colossal bird. “Have it carry you there. This golden eagle is incredibly fast; covering a hundred thousand kilometers in a day is nothing to it. Also, take this beast fang token, Jared…”
“With it, any demon beast within the domain of Myriad Beast Valley will not attack you. If you do encounter any danger, crush the token, and I will immediately lead the beast horde to your aid!”
Jared accepted the token with both hands. “Thank you, Mr. Leedon…”
***
Three days later, the group arrived at Heavenly Sword Range.
The range rose like an army of obsidian blades, each peak spearing through the clouds. A murderous sword energy flooded the air; ordinary cultivators would feel their skin prickle from a hundred kilometers away. At its heart loomed a fortress-palace wrought of black iron, the Heavenly Sword Pavilion, anchored upon the highest summit as though hammered there by the gods.
The Thunderwing Golden Eagle King refused to cross the boundary; the sword energy crushed every feather, so the great bird wheeled away at a respectful distance. Jared and his four companions rode the wind the remaining leagues. The moment they breached the range, streaks of sword light screamed toward them.
“Stop where you are!”
Seven white-robed swordsmen barred the sky. Their leader, a handsome youth with twin blades across his back, radiated the aura of a Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Seven. His gaze lingered on Vermilion Demon Lord, brow tightening. “This is Heavenly Sword Pavilion’s forbidden ground. Leave at once!”
Winslow drifted forward, sleeves billowing. “I am Winslow Walden of the Azure Firmament Sword Sect, here with friends to seek an audience with Mr. Dugan!”
“Azure Firmament Sword Sect? Ah, greetings, Mr. Walden! Word of your sect’s tragedy has reached us; my condolences. However, Mr. Dugan is in solitary training and does not wish to receive guests.”
“Solitary training?” Jared said. “Then kindly inform him that someone wishes to cross swords with him.”
Seeing that Jared was only at Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Three, the young swordsman shook his head. “I appreciate your kindness, but Mr. Dugan duels only those who have mastered the sword. Forgive me, but you…”
Before the last syllable left the swordsman’s lips, Jared lifted two fingers, holding them together like the edge of a blade. The gesture looked almost casual, as if he were idly parting mist, yet a dry hiss split the still air. No chaotic celestial energy was used, no Golden Dragon Bloodline awakened—just the purest sword intent.
Hiss!
A hair-thin fissure opened in the void itself. From that wound, sword energy spilled like silver wind. It spiraled outward, painting phantom suns, moons, and drifting constellations, then unfurled into shadow mountains, rivers, and forests. For one breathless moment, an entire miniature cosmos trembled on the edge of his unseen sword.
The young swordsman’s pupils shrank to pinpoints. Behind him, six fellow sword cultivators lurched back in perfect unison; the long blades in their hands shook wildly, whining like terrified hounds tugging at their leashes.
“T-That’s the Sword Intent World? The realm beyond man and blade as one?” he stammered, voice cracking with equal parts awe and fear.
Jared lowered his hand, and the rift sealed without a whisper. “May I meet with Mr. Dugan now?” he asked, his tone as mild as falling snow.
The young swordsman drew a slow, steadying breath, then pressed his sword to his chest in a formal salute. “M-My apologies, sir… Please wait here. I will report at once!”
With that, he shot away as pure sword light. Less than fifteen minutes later, the same ray of light streaked back and re-formed into the youth. His bow was deeper, his words even more respectful. “Mr. Dugan warmly extends his invitation to everyone. Please follow me.”
