Altair Stormcrest, the proud heir of the Golden Crow Clan, roared furiously as he channeled an overwhelming amount of energy into his core (demonic core). His entire form shimmered with a fiery glow, and flames ignited around his body, blazing with such intensity that even Jin Eryndor, standing far below in the courtyard, had to wipe sweat off his brow from the heat.

Altair’s compressed spiritual energy surged like a broken dam, racing outwards. As it reached his mouth, it transformed into a torrent of scorching flames, capable of incinerating the heavens and seas, surging violently toward Long Valen.

Long Valen's expression remained calm and composed. Realizing the might of this attack, he ceased his aggressive offense, immediately recalling his flying swords. He knew that facing this move head-on required his full power; otherwise, even as a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator, he would be reduced to ashes.

Drawing in his spiritual energy, Long Valen poured it all into his flying sword. The blade began to shine brilliantly, its light growing blinding. The nine swords he previously separated now merged back into one. Above, the stormy sky responded to his summons, crackling with arcs of violet lightning that danced ominously across the clouds.

Suddenly, a massive bolt of violet lightning, as thick as a tree trunk, struck the flying sword, fusing with it. The blade absorbed the raw power of the lightning, becoming wreathed in electric arcs. Guided by Long Valen’s meticulous control, the sword spun and danced in mid-air, carving intricate trails of energy as he formed an array of hand seals at lightning speed.

The energy condensed into the form of a colossal Violet Thunder Dragon. The sword, now the heart of this thunderous dragon, surged upward into the sky. The mighty dragon coiled and soared, exuding an aura of unrivaled majesty. Its ear-splitting roar echoed across the heavens, sending waves of awe and terror cascading over the onlookers.

The thunder dragon, imbued with Long Valen’s formidable will and power, represented his pinnacle technique—both destructive and awe-inspiring.

As it hovered above, ready to strike, its mere presence seemed to announce dominion over all living beings. The dragon’s violet scales shimmered with electricity, crackling with the might to obliterate anything in its path.

“Violet Dragon of Annihilation!” Long Valen roared, sending his ultimate strike forward.

The Violet Thunder Dragon twisted its massive body, lashing its tail as it charged toward Altair Stormcrest with an unstoppable momentum.

Altair’s Solar Flames, burning with the power of a sun, surged forth in defiance, a fiery wave that promised to incinerate all in its path.

“BOOM!!!”

A deafening explosion rocked the entire Skyshade Sanctum Sect. The clash of celestial lightning and hellish fire unleashed a shockwave so massive that it sent tremors rippling through the air. Observing disciples in the distance were shaken to their core, some stumbling backward from the overwhelming force. Thankfully, the sect’s protective Grand Formation absorbed the brunt of the shockwave, safeguarding the weaker disciples from harm. Without it, the weaker sect members would have been swept away like leaves in a hurricane.

“Sect Master’s power has advanced yet again,” Sylvan Ashwood, the Formation Peak Lord, exclaimed with excitement.

“This battle is as good as won. It won’t be long before he breaks through to the next realm,” added Blanc Sylas, the Elder overseeing Artifact Refinement.

“The gap between us and him keeps growing wider,” Summerfield Liora, the Rune Peak Elder, said, her tone tinged with bitterness.

“It is a blessing for Skyshade Sanctum Sect,” Magnus Victor, the aloof Sword Peak Elder, stated matter-of-factly.

While the elders exchanged their thoughts, the battle in the sky showed no sign of slowing down. Lightning and fire clashed in a dazzling display of destructive energy, the power of each combatant creating a spectacle that none present would soon forget.

Long Valen and Altair Stormcrest continued their duel with unyielding determination, their energies vying for dominance.

The explosion was only the beginning. Altair Stormcrest’s Solar Flames were potent, but Long Valen’s swordsmanship was on a level higher, allowing him to gain the upper hand. Blood began to drip from the corners of Altair’s mouth, and arcs of lightning danced ominously around his body, clear evidence that he had suffered severe damage from the strikes.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Long Valen was not one to show mercy to his opponents. If they refused to concede defeat, he would continue fighting until they yielded.

Without giving Altair a moment to catch his breath, Long Valen channeled a wave of pure energy into his flying sword. The sword radiated an intense vibration of spiritual energy before falling eerily silent. There were no dazzling lightning bolts or thunderous roars this time—just a sword condensed to its absolute limit in essence, spirit, and soul. When it moved, the world seemed to pause, filled with an overwhelming sense of stillness and void.

This was the third sword technique:

“Return to Silence.”

The flying sword moved forward, its flight simple and unadorned, neither fast nor slow, but it carried with it a chilling inevitability. Altair’s golden feathers stood on end, and an overwhelming fear of death surged through his being. Every instinct screamed at him to dodge, but the oppressive aura of the sword had completely enveloped him.

He realized with a sinking heart—there was no escape.

“Damn it!”

Altair Stormcrest cursed silently.

Without hesitation, he unleashed a torrent of spiritual energy, pulling the surrounding air into a vortex-like state with his "Gravity Distortion" technique. Within a one-mile radius, the very air seemed to collapse inward, forming a suffocating vacuum where breathing became impossible.

Suddenly, a blazing Halo of Illusory Flames appeared around Altair’s body, igniting the air with a blinding brilliance. The intense light exploded outward like a miniature sun, forcing everyone nearby to instinctively close their eyes. At that moment, Altair radiated an aura like the midday sun, his radiance unbearable to look upon directly.

Simultaneously, a piercing screech erupted from Altair’s mouth, sharp and grating like nails raking across glass. The shrill "Krrrrrrrrr" sound, resonating with earsplitting intensity, carried enough force to overload the senses. The high-decibel noise reverberated like waves, causing the ears of every onlooker to buzz painfully.

Even seasoned cultivators attempting to extend their spiritual sense to monitor the fight had their divine consciousness violently repelled. Their heads throbbed, and their legs wobbled uncontrollably. As for the weaker disciples, they collapsed to the ground outright, retching and rendered utterly incapacitated by the sheer auditory assault.

Jin Eryndor didn’t fare any better. Despite being shielded by Serene Willowcrest, he still felt dizzy, his vision splitting into two, then four, then eight, as if countless overlapping images were colliding, merging, and separating before his eyes. His ears buzzed incessantly, his body felt limp and powerless.

“Damn mother of the all mighty ! It’s like I just got hit by a flashbang back on Earth,” Jin Eryndor thought. “That big bird’s move is wickedly damn effective.”

A weakened but venomous voice emerged from Altair Stormcrest’s mouth:

“Long Valen, right? I’ll remember you!”

With that, he shot off like a streaking comet toward the distant mountain ranges. His speed was blindingly fast, making pursuit nearly impossible—not that anyone had the intent to chase him.

Long Valen watched Altair retreat, his expression cold and disdainful. He let out a derisive snort before commanding,

“Dismiss the sect’s defensive array.”

The disciples, still shaky and disoriented from the intense assault, hurried to obey. Though their legs wobbled and their vision swam, they quickly began the process of dismantling the Skyshade Sanctum Sect’s protective formation, eager to follow their leader's orders without delay.

Long Valen then said nothing, swiftly flying back to the main peak, with the other elders quickly following suit.

Serene Willowcrest, seeing that the ordeal had concluded, carried Jin Eryndor back home. Noticing that Jin had quickly recovered his composure and no longer looked like a limp shrimp, she smiled with satisfaction.

Jin Eryndor wasted no time, his curiosity bubbling over: “Mother, all the elders are heading to the main peak, yet here you are, leisurely sipping tea? Shouldn’t you be there too?”

Serene Skyshade cast a fond glance at Jin Eryndor, gently pressing a finger to his forehead in a playful and affectionate gesture.

"Silly child," she said warmly,

"does it matter if all the elders are gathering? It’s not that big of a deal. Your father, Jin Valen, and the other elders have it under control. Our sect master has surely been remembered and resented by countless others in his journey of cultivation. What’s one more grudge? A cultivator’s life revolves around the word ‘struggle’: fighting, seizing opportunities, and grasping destiny. Everything must be fought for. If we were weak today, we truly might have been robbed, and that would be the real humiliation. Besides, your father is among the elders. If any important decision is made, I’ll know even from home. There’s no need for me to rush to the main peak."

Seeing Serene’s relaxed demeanor, Jin Eryndor silently grumbled to himself,

"Mother, are you just using this as an excuse to avoid leaving the house after lounging for a year? Just admit it—I won’t laugh."

Despite his inner protests, Jin wisely kept his thoughts to himself, knowing they could easily earn him a pinch on the ear or cheek—something he had no desire to endure.

"Ignorance really is terrifying," Jin mused with a sigh.

Serene chuckled softly.

"Your father is likely correct; that Altair Stormcrest youth was a reckless fledgling. But who knows? Perhaps he was eager to test his strength against others. Having suffered a setback this time, he’ll undoubtedly grow smarter. Remember this, Eryndor: if you wish to live long as a cultivator, never underestimate others. Someday, you might find yourself caught off guard and overturned in an unexpected situation."

"Yes, Mother," Jin Eryndor replied thoughtfully, etching her words into his memory.

This battle, despite leaving Jin Eryndor's limbs trembling from Altair Stormcrest's final move, brought him significant gains. Witnessing such a high-level clash between top-tier cultivators was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, not something one could encounter every day. Moreover, Altair Stormcrest’s techniques sparked inspiration within him, offering a glimpse of paths he could explore. One day, when the chance arises, Jin Eryndor promised himself he would attempt to emulate them.

But for now, he would focus on refining his Basic Claw Techniques.