Soon, the group was led to Heavenly Sword Pavilion’s Sword Duel Platform. The arena floated above a rolling ocean of cloud, a flawless circle of black Test-Blade Stone. Its surface was carved by countless grooves, each a scar left by some bygone duel, and every scar still breathed a razor-sharp intent.
At the platform’s heart stood an elderly man in coarse gray robes. His hair, streaked white, tangled in the wind while he stared up at the sky as though listening to secrets only he could hear.
A plain iron sword hung at his waist. The sheath was mottled with rust, yet Jared sensed a killing edge within it fierce enough to split mountains.
Winslow bowed. “Mr. Dugan…” Oswald Dugan turned with deliberate languor. His face was unremarkable, almost shabby, but his eyes flashed like twin naked blades, keen enough, it seemed, to pierce straight through a man’s heart. They ignored everyone else and fixed on Jared.
“Your sword intent intrigues me,” he rasped. “It is not the austere way of pure swordsmanship, but at the same time, it feels broader than that.”
Jared bowed. “Greetings, Mr. Dugan. My name is Jared Chance.”
“Jared Chance…” Oswald tasted the name, and cold light flashed behind his lashes. “Three months ago, in level eleven’s Chthonic Abyss, someone crippled Soul Devourer. That someone was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Jared answered, giving a small nod. So, he even knows about that… I’m not sure how he found out about that, but now that he knows, he can better understand just how strong I really am.
Oswald’s chin dipped once. “Excellent… If you could wound that ancient fiend, you have earned the right to stand upon this platform. Speak… What brings you here? If it is only to cross blades, we can begin at once.”
“I have come to invite Heavenly Sword Pavilion to join an alliance,” Jared said, his voice steady as steel drawn free of the scabbard. “Together we will eradicate Malevolent Path Hall.”
Oswald stood in absolute stillness, the wind combing through his unbound hair while the clouds above the Sword Duel Platform seemed to pause with him.
“The blades of Heavenly Sword Pavilion are raised for no one but their bearers. If Malevolent Path Hall keeps its distance, why should I swing at them?” the swordsman finally said, every word slow, deliberate, and bright as polished steel.
“Because a falling tide sinks all boats,” Jared replied, his voice cutting across the hush like a warning bell. “Malevolent Path Hall wants the divine souls of every cultivator. Heavenly Sword Pavilion will not be spared. Once they finish grinding down the other factions, this sect will be next.”
“Then let them try,” Oswald retorted, a flicker of savage anticipation sparking in his eyes. “My blade has hungered far too long for the blood of a High Immortal.”
“Perhaps you fear nothing, Mr. Dugan, but what about your disciples?” Jared pressed, stepping closer. “Even though Myriad Blades Convergence Array is strong, can it withstand a Soul-Devouring Puppet, a Soul-Subduing Puppet General, and Malcolm Vayne himself?”
Oswald’s gaze sharpened to ice. “Do you doubt the strength of Heavenly Sword Pavilion?”
“No,” Jared answered, meeting that icy stare without a flinch. “I’m merely stating a simple fact. Malevolent Path Hall commands the Door of Reincarnation, fresh puppets flow without end… As for Heavenly Sword Pavilion, you’re one sword weaker whenever you lose one disciple. Who do you think will win as the battle drags on?”
Oswald slid a hand to his sword hilt. “So are you here to talk us into giving up?”
The atmosphere atop the stone platform hardened. Air refused to move. Sound forgot to echo. Sweat gathered on Winslow’s brow far behind them. Vermilion Demon Lord, hidden in the rear, gathered demonic fire in his palm, ready to shield Jared with his life. Yet Jared smiled, calm as dawn breaking through storm clouds.
“I’ve come to offer you a chance—a chance for the blades of Heavenly Sword Pavilion to cleave apart the darkness smothering level twelve…”
“Hide behind closed gates, and your brilliance lights only a corner. Stand beside the other great powers to shatter the demonic tide, and every realm will echo your name. Who then would fail to honor Heavenly Sword Pavilion? Who would dare withhold respect from Oswald Dugan?”
Oswald’s fingers eased away from the hilt. Sword light flickered in his pupils while he weighed Jared’s pledge the way a master appraised a new edge. Several moments later, he finally spoke again. “That strike you showed a moment ago… What is it called?”
Jared blinked, realizing Oswald meant the nascent realm he had revealed, the Sword Intent World that had bloomed around his earlier step.
“It has no name yet.”
“Call it Chaos Genesis Sword then,” Oswald said, turning his face to the sky as though carving the title across the clouds. “At the genesis of chaos, a single sword cut through purity and impurity, giving birth to all things… That name is truly worthy of your sword intent.”
He paused, still facing away, voice rolling like distant thunder. “We can speak of an alliance, on one condition. Cross blades with me. Win or lose doesn’t matter. If your sword lets me glimpse a stronger path beyond, Heavenly Sword Pavilion will march with you.”
Jared drew a measured breath. “When?”
“Now!” Oswald pivoted.
The battered iron sword at his waist whispered free. No roar shook the heavens, yet the instant bare metal tasted air, every scar carved into the duel platform flared white. Sword energy flooded inward, weaving behind Oswald until an ethereal blade a hundred yards tall towered over him. The true blade stayed still, but its will swept forward first.
Jared felt as though a billion needles of intent pierced his very soul—pure sword pressure, merciless and immeasurable. Instead of fear, a wildfire of battle lust blazed across Jared’s eyes, its heat bright enough to erase the tremor that still rang through the clouds over the Sword Duel Platform.
The Dragonslayer Sword flashed from its sheath with a steely cry. Chaotic celestial energy, Golden Dragon Bloodline, and Earthfire True Flame merged yet did not erupt. They curled inward, cloaking the blade in a dim aura that swallowed every gleam.
“Begin.” Oswald’s voice remained steady, the word striking the air like the clear note of a temple bell.
At that invitation, Jared made the first move. He did not stab or hack. Instead, he held Dragonslayer Sword and traced a slow, deliberate arc, as though he were painting light upon the sky. Soon, the line became a perfect circle, and within that circle, negative and positive energies swirled, the five elements unfolded, and faint visions of the creation of heaven and earth, of all things coming into being and passing away, began to emerge.
“Magnificent! What a beautiful Chaos Genesis!” Oswald exclaimed as his pupils blazed, their light fierce enough to crack stone.
The iron sword in his grasp shuddered. A phantom blade a hundred yards long crashed downward, severing clouds on its descent toward the glowing circle. Within seconds, the light met the sword orb. There was no thunder, no outward blast.
The colossal sword sank into the orb as smoothly as a fish slipping into a pond. Inside, churning chaos peeled the great weapon apart, grain by grain, until nothing remained but drifting motes that the circle drank. The orb thickened, its rim now stretching wider, hungrier. To everyone’s surprise, Oswald grinned instead of recoiling.
He loosed a jubilant howl. “Again!” The next second, his body dissolved into pure sword light. Man and weapon fused and speared straight for the orb’s heart—his ultimate stroke, forged where intention and steel were utterly one.
