Dustin smiled as his fingers traced the cloud patterns carved into his sword scabbard. He said calmly, “Since you have awakened from your slumber, why are you angry with mortals?”
His gaze swept over the white light surrounding Thymaleon. Those clear eyes seemed to pierce right through him, as if they could read the centuries written in his very bones.
Dustin’s sword absorbed the sunlight’s warmth, and the turquoise stones along its scabbard seemed to pulse with soft light. A gentle fragrance of herbs and wood drifted from the blade, which was the complete opposite of the harsh, ancient power that surrounded the handsome man.
Thymaleon’s surprise deepened. Since being awakened from the slumber, only a few days had passed.
Apart from being disturbed by that earlier sword aura, he’d avoided all contact with mortals. Yet somehow Dustin knew about his long slumber. That level of insight forced Thymaleon to reassess who he was dealing with.
“You know who I am?” he asked curiously.
The glow surrounding him seemed to intensify, pulling closer to his body. The soft, wavering light suddenly snapped into focus. It became solid and bright as polished stone. Its edges looked razor-sharp now, and the temperature around him dropped noticeably.
“I don’t, but I’ve heard the rumors about Elysium Isle,” Dustin said, setting his cleaned sword on the stone table.
The rumors he’d heard claimed that immortals slept on the island. Those fortunate enough might receive an elixir from the immortal himself, while the unlucky ones would be killed instantly.
“You’re certainly well-informed,” Thymaleon replied. “Though I wonder…how long will you last in a fight with me?”
As soon as his words fell, the air around him grew heavy and oppressive. Dark clouds swept across the previously clear sky. The reeds around the water bent low under invisible pressure.
He rose another six inches while hovering, and his robes snapped loudly in the air currents. His black hair broke free from its band and streamed wildly in the white light. His entire presence radiated suffocating pressure.
The amusement in Dustin’s eyes instantly disappeared. He didn’t stand up, just sat there quietly. But invisible ripples suddenly began emanating from around his body.
Those ripples were invisible to the naked eye. Still, tiny waves appeared on the tea, and the tent curtains began to flutter.
Thymaleon’s airborne figure suddenly froze. His eyes closed partway, giving him the appearance of someone falling asleep. Only the white light flowing around his body continued to rise and fall slowly, with rhythmic precision.
The guards bustling around the camp sensed something was wrong. They stopped their work and emerged from their tents, spreading out to investigate the scene.
“Who is that man? What’s with those old-fashioned robes?” someone asked. “Anyone who can float in the air that long has to be at least a grandmaster martial artist,” another replied.
“No. Judging from that crushing presence he exudes, he must be at least an ultimate grandmaster,” a third commented.
Looking at the airborne figure of Thymaleon, the soldiers discussed among themselves for a while, sharing a range of opinions.
At that moment, a tent curtain was gently lifted aside. Grace walked out wearing a light purple long dress.
The instant she appeared, she detected the strange atmosphere permeating the air. It wasn’t the violent energy of spiritual power collisions. Instead, it was rather a deeper, more intangible sense of oppression that made even breathing difficult.
The female guard, Judith Cross, stood beside Grace and frowned. Her right hand was already pressing against the short sword at her waist. The anti-slip texture patterns on the sword hilt had grown hot from her tight grip.
Seeing Dustin and Thymaleon standing motionless, Judith wanted to move forward to investigate the situation.
“Don’t move,” Grace said grimly, grabbing Judith’s wrist. Even her normally gentle features had taken on a stern cast as she added, ” Whatever you do, don’t approach them.”
“Ms. Linsor, what’s wrong?” Judith asked, confused.
“The cultivation levels of those two are far beyond what you can imagine. Right now, even though they haven’t actually made a move, they’ve already begun a battle of mental energy. Anyone who rashly approaches will be killed instantly,” Grace answered.
“Huh?” Judith was startled and didn’t dare take another step forward. When she looked at Dustin and Thymaleon again, her gaze now carried several degrees more awe and fear.
She followed Grace’s gaze and indeed discovered that the air around the two men seemed somewhat different. The sunlight shining there actually created faint distortions, like looking at things through steam from hot water. Even the play of light and shadow by the lakeside became blurred.
From the corner of her eye, Judith caught sight of a white crane flying low over the lake.
The bird moved with natural grace, its pristine white feathers catching the sunlight. As its wings skimmed the water’s surface, they scattered droplets that sparkled in the air. Then it flew directly toward where Dustin and Thymaleon stood.
The crane seemed completely unaware of the danger ahead. It maintained its unhurried flight while letting out clear, musical calls. The instant the bird entered the 30-foot radius around the two men, something horrifying occurred.
Without any sound or warning, the bird’s body suddenly contorted as if crushed by an invisible giant hand. Its graceful form twisted violently, white wings exploding outward in a burst of feathers. Then its entire body expanded into a cloud of blood and mist.
Fragments of feathers and flesh drifted down like macabre snow. The crane hadn’t even managed a final cry before it completely disintegrated.
