Only now did Sheldon see therger design. From the moment the Mystic Sky Sword Sect had marched out, every twist of this bloody conflict had been orchestrated by this young man.


    He was a sect master. A Heavenly Immortal powerhouse. Yet, he was tricked by a junior way weaker than him.


    Bitterness surged up his throat. He coughed a dark gout of demon blood across the broken stone, his aura flickering like a candle in the wind.


    "You have a death wish, boy! I will tear you apart and refine your soul for a thousand years!" he roared, each word drenched in murderous promise.


    His rage boiled over, scorching what little reason he had left. He ignored the hollow ache where his demonic essence should have been and squeezed thest drops of power from a body already split with wounds.


    Crackling shadows swarmed around him. From that ck tide rose a w-far thinner than the one he could conjure at his peak, yet still heavy with the wails of a thousand tormented souls. It tore through the air toward Jared with a shriek that curdled blood.


    That single strike carried every ounce of hatred Sheldon had nurtured across countless battles. He meant to crush Jared in the time it takes a man to blink.


    Not far away, Linden watched, eyes unreadable. He neither shielded Jared nor aided the demon. The swordmaster, too, was running on fumes and weed any pause that let his strength knit back together.


    Even so, curiosity gnawed at him. Jared was only a Level Seven Human Immortal on paper, yet there was something bottomless about the young man something Linden could not divine.


    What is this boy hiding? The old swordsman wondered, weighing every heartbeat, every ripple of force. He decided to let the sh reveal whatever secrets fate wished to spill.


    Jared met the advancing w with eyes gone winter-cold. The earlier hint of


    mockery vanished, reced by a sovereign calm—one that seemed toorge for a body so young. For an instant, he looked as though the entire sky had bowed before him.


    "Pathetic," Jared said, voice t and final. "You''re at yourst legs, and you still dare challenge me?"


    He never reached for the sword on his back. Instead, he lifted his right hand- casually, almostzily—and folded his fingers into a fist.


    A primeval presence rumbled awake inside him, as though a slumbering dragon shoved mountains aside while it rose. The ground quivered beneath his boots.


    Chaotic energy burst from every pore. Somewhere deep in his bloodline, a dragon''s roar answered, echoing across the battlefield like a temple bell struck at midnight. No brilliant glow clung to his knuckles, only power so dense it bent the air-power that felt capable of punching through stars and cracking the ages themselves.


    "Holy Light Fist." Jared let the three words fall like a judgment.


    Boom!


    That in, unadorned fist shot forward and met the demon w head-on, a pebble hurled against a tidal wave or so it seemed to every jaw that hung open below.


    Contactsted Ness than a breath.


    The w, once feared for shredding


    Heavenly Immortals, melted like


    vel


    frost beneath a noonday sun.


    ss thin shards of shadow shattered, then blew apart in a cyclone of keening spirits. Those fragments had no time to fight back. Stray sword-energy lingering in the air-still hot from Linden''s earlier strike-shed white and purified every wisp of darkness.


    In a heartbeat, the sky cleared. Nothing remained of Sheldon''s attack but silence. "What?"


    "That''s impossible!"


    The exmations burst from Sheldon and Linden at the same instant. Rage and murder froze on the demon''s face, reced by gaping disbelief.


    That w had drained thest pools of demonic essence in Sheldon''s veins-enough power to maim, even kill a Level Four Heavenly Immortal. Levertour Yet Jared, a supposed Level Seven Human Immortal, had erased it with a single, effortless punch.


    The world that Sheldon understood cracked.


    Linden''s pupils shrank to pinpoints. A cold breath slipped between his teeth. Never had he felt so shaken-not by foes of his own rank, much less by a junior. This youngster wears his realm like a mask, he admitted to himself, grave and awed.


    No Human Immortal possesses such might. Is it some forbidden art... or has he concealed his true cultivation all along? If so, his real strength may rival—even surpass-my own.


    A chill rose from the deepest chambers of his heart, unbidden and most unwee.