“Enaricus conspired with Malevolent Path Hall, high treason. By law, he should die. Yet, for the palace’s sake, I grant him one chance. He will cripple his own cultivation so others may learn. As for you two, leave the Celestial King’s Palace this instant. Set foot here again, and you face the blade of every guard within.”
Enaricus blanched. Crippling his own cultivation was worse than death. His fists tightened until nails cut flesh, yet he felt no pain, only the hollow roar of his future collapsing.
Percival and Esorin traded a single, fraught glance. They both knew refusal meant none of them would leave alive.
Silence flooded the hall. Every soul held its breath, waiting for their answer, while in the vaulted air an invisible storm gathered, ready to break.
***
Meanwhile, in the void passage, Jared raised his Dragonslayer Sword, lost to time, space, even memory.
Flame meteors streaked toward him in endless waves. Each swing of his blade shattered a thousand blazing comets into showers of jeweled fireworks that lit the churning void.
The silent man beside him watched the stars die under Jared’s sword and could not hide his awe.
At last, the fiery tempest ended. Jared drifted back to the man, golden light rippling across his skin, his very flesh now humming with newfound power.
“Sir, may I finally leave this place?” Jared asked, voice steady yet threaded with anticipation. The man’s lips curved in a small, satisfied smile. “You may…”
Jared clasped both hands in grateful salute. “My thanks, sir!”
Joy flashed in his eyes, bright as the sparks he had just slain.
At that precise gesture, the man’s brow knotted. His stare locked onto Jared’s joined fists, as though something there screamed a silent warning.
Confused, Jared lowered his arms, unsure what secret the man had just seen.
The man’s voice sliced through the stale cavern air. “What is that on your hand?”
The question shook free on a ragged breath. Before Jared could form an answer, he lunged forward, fingers clamping around Jared’s wrist with desperate certainty, as though truth itself were etched into his skin.
Jared opened his palm to show nothing at all.
“Nothing, really,” he said, the apology in his voice at odds with the stranger’s rising frenzy.
“I’m not talking about your palm. That ring, tell me. Is it the dragon ring?”
His gaze locked on the band circling Jared’s finger, and each frantic breath rattled as though the sight alone had stolen the air from his lungs.
“Yes… My father left it to me.” The confession tumbled out. Hope surged behind Jared’s ribs. “You recognize it?”
Since arriving in the celestial realm, Jared had searched every corner and found not a single branch of the Dragon Sect.
He had started to believe the sect had vanished, hidden in distant worlds or buried in places even his journey had missed. Yet this stranger stood here now, eyes wide with recognition. If he knew the ring, then the sect itself might still live.
Without warning, the man dropped to one knee, trembling yet resolute. “Maxwell Sterling, your humble sword, greets the lord!”
His voice quaked with reverence strong enough to shake dust from the stone floor.
Jared steadied his pulse. “A-Are you… Are you from Dragon Sect?”
The man, Maxwell, nodded so hard his dark hair whipped across his brow. “Yes. I serve under that banner!”
Jared hauled the man upright, fingers still buzzing from surprise. “That means every warrior inside the Celestial Palace answers to me?”
Maxwell smiled, awe shining in his eyes. “I built that palace myself. Of course, its blades bend to you, sir!”
The revelation hit so hard that Jared almost lost his balance. A sigh slipped free, long and heavy.
Maxwell’s brows knitted. “Sir, why the sigh?”
He had no idea Jared had clashed with the very palace he had founded, no idea several hall masters now lay dead by Jared’s hand. The bitter joke tightened around Jared’s heart; he had slain his own men.
“Don’t call me that,” Jared murmured. “Just call me Jared. I’m only marveling at fate’s cruelty, who would have thought Celestial Palace was mine all along?”
