“Grand Venerable, this array is… Unnatural…”
The Celestial Venerable’s warning cut into the silence, low and urgent.
Another Venerable added in a gravelly tone, “We can’t keep throwing ordinary soldiers to their de@ths.”
Drawing a steadier breath, the Grand Venerable shouted, “Jared, do you think hiding behind that array can stop my three-hundred-thousand-strong army?”
Jared laughed. “Why not come and find out?”
He paused, letting the echo of his laugh fade. The faint grin on his lips sharpened, carrying a chill that slid across the field.
“Sending these small fry to die is dull. You have ten Venerables, don’t you? Send them all, I’ll face every one alone!”
Shock swept through both armies like wind through dry leaves; startled voices rose and collided in chaotic uproar.
“He wants to fight ten Level-Seven Venerables by himself?” Disbelief crackled in the muttered question.
“Madness!” another voice barked.
More whispers followed, all agreeing on one point: Jared had lost his mind.
Even Luther and the others blanched.
“Mr. Chance, you mustn’t!” one of them pleaded.
Jared dismissed the concern with a light wave. “It’s fine… I’ve been wanting to test my limits.”
He tilted his chin toward the Grand Venerable. “What’s wrong? Ten against one still scares you?”
Color flickered across the Grand Venerable’s face before he snarled, “Fine! You crave death! I’ll oblige!”
He snapped a glance at the assembled Venerables. “You ten, find out how deep his power runs.”
The ten exchanged a silent nod, then shot into the air together, robes cracking like banners in a storm. Each was High Immortal Level-Seven, drawn from a different corner of level thirteen, a sovereign in his or her own right. Facing a mere Level-One junior as a group bruised their pride, yet the carnage they had just witnessed kept caution locked in their hearts.
“Jared, meet your end!” they roared in unison. All ten moved at once, unleashing artifacts and divine arts that painted the sky in clashing colors. Frost swept like a blizzard, flames towered, sword-light crisscrossed, and thunder hammered until heaven itself seemed to buckle.
Ten distinct law forces braided into a single ocean of destruction, surging overhead before crashing toward Jared with irresistible weight. Even a Grand Venerable at High Immortal Realm Level Eight would have chosen to dodge rather than meet that wall of force head-on.
Amid the roar, Jared simply curled his lip in a quiet smile. He lifted Dragonslayer Sword, his voice steady and low.
“Chaos Sword Domain! Open!”
A breath later, everything within a thousand-foot circle around him dulled to ash-gray. The ten distinct law forces plunged into that gray field. Their brilliance faded the instant they crossed the boundary. An unseen undertow smothered each strand until the power melted like ink in water.
“What?!”
All ten Venerables jerked back, panic flaring across their faces as certainty cracked. None of them had ever witnessed a domain that could swallow the very principles they commanded. The realization drilled cold into bone: their strongest cards were being eaten alive.
Jared’s grip tightened. “My turn…”
The words landed soft, almost polite, yet carried the chill of closing doors. He stepped once, nothing more, and his sword arm swung. Dragonslayer whistled, the edge skimming a thin, perfect arc through the heavy air.
“Chaos… Slash!”
The phrase rode the motion like lightning along a wire. Ten gray sword beams fanned out, each locking onto a separate target before slashing forward with predatory precision. Speed—unreal!
The beams arrived so quickly the eye caught only the ghost of a line before it vanished. The Venerables never saw the full path. A cool kiss marked every brow, followed by a spike of agony that clawed straight into the soul. Blood sprayed from a single neck. Then another. Again, and then again, until the rhythm blurred into a nightmarish drum.
Ten heads arced into the air together, spinning as neatly as petals in the wind. Ten High Immortal Realm Level Seven Venerables fell lifeless before their bodies understood they were dead.
One swing. Ten corpses. The field itself seemed shocked into utter stillness. No voice rose. No weapon rattled. Silence swallowed the battlefield whole.
Three-hundred-thousand celestial soldiers and the hundred-thousand Beastfolk warriors alike stood frozen, eyes wide, mouths half-open, unable to speak. Even Lucian and Lyria, faces usually calm as water, now carried a heavy, focused gravity that refused to lift.
“Such terrifying chaotic force…” Lucian’s murmur slipped out before thought could catch it. “No wonder he cut down five Grand Venerables…”
Lyria’s violet eyes gleamed with restless light. “S-Senior Disciple, this Jared… Truly extraordinary…”
Across the field, the Grand Venerable’s complexion drained to paper white, cold sweat soaking his collar. Ten Venerables… G-Gone… Those were ten High Immortal Realm Level Seven masters he had handpicked from every region. And now, nothing remained. A single sword stroke? What kind of monster is this Jared?
Jared lowered Dragonslayer, letting the blade rest at his side while his gaze swept the gathered forces as though counting them.
“Who else?”
The question barely rose above conversation level, yet it boomed inside every celestial soldier’s chest like thunder stamped between the ribs. Ranks that had held firm moments ago shifted backward in the same breath, armor clinking in a unified retreat.
Fear—raw, suffocating, primal—gripped every spine. Veterans who had trained for millennia and survived campaign after campaign could not remember feeling dread this total and immediate. The young man before them no longer seemed human; he felt like the embodiment of a nightmare.
The Grand Venerable drew a long breath, forcing his own terror into the pit of his stomach. He turned stiffly toward the two Envoys. “Honored Envoys, this one is beyond us. I beg your intervention.”
He understood at last that level thirteen alone could not cage Jared’s power. Only assistance from the Fourteenth Firmament might tilt the scales.
Lucian met Lyria’s gaze; unspoken agreement flickered. Together they lifted into the air, cloaks snapping behind them. They stopped a hundred paces before Jared, forming a silent wall of intent.
Lucian spoke first, tone even, “Jared, you have impressed me… A High Immortal Realm Level One who can kill ten Level Seven Venerables with one strike… Such feats grant the title of prodigy even on the Fourteenth Firmament.”
He paused, eyes narrowing as steel edged his voice. “Yet that is your ceiling today. Your grasp of chaotic force is still shallow. Allow me to demonstrate what true strength looks like.”
Jared regarded him without a ripple of emotion. “A prodigy from the Fourteenth Firmament? Good… I have been wondering how high talent can climb up there.”
He met Lucian’s gaze, voice even. “A prodigy of the Fourteenth Firmament? Perfect. I’ve been curious to see how strong an upper-world genius really is.”
Lyria let out a soft, dismissive snort. “Jared, don’t get so full of yourself. My Senior Disciple ranks within the top ten of the young generation in the Fourteenth Firmament. You might count for something down here, but in front of us, you still don’t measure up!”
Jared let a mild sound slip between his lips. “Oh… Really?”
He lifted one brow, curiosity edging his voice. “Top ten in the Fourteenth Firmament’s younger ranks? Is that supposed to be impressive?”
A laugh burst from him, light but razor-sharp. “Still, don’t you think two on one is a little unfair? How about this: I’ll fight your Senior Disciple first. If you’re worried he‘ll lose, feel free to jump in whenever you like.”
“You!” Lyria’s breath hitched; the single word snapped out before she caught herself. Color flooded her cheeks. “Arrogant! My Senior Disciple could crush you with one finger!”
Lucian raised a hand, cutting her off. “Junior Disciple, no need to argue with him. Strength isn’t proved by talk.”
His gaze shifted to Jared, expression flat. “Jared, this is your last chance. Submit, or die.”
Jared planted his feet, sword tip angled straight at Lucian. “If you want a fight, then fight. Spare me the useless chatter.”
“Very well…” Lucian nodded once. “Since you insist on courting death, I’ll oblige!”
