Ovid had only been in this world for seldom a few days, it was naturally impossible for him to understand the massive disparity between ordinary mortals and the clergy. With sufficient talent, it was possible to turn the intangible force of mana into something seemingly material.

For Ovid to have last so long against a deacon, he could already be described as the most talented of geniuses. However, it was still impossible for him to withstand the full strength of an upper deacon, even with the guidance of Cai Hua, even though he had demonstrated an undaunted nature that could only come from having experienced death once before. 

Losing to Myia was a very logical manner. 

But… why was he feeling slightly unwilling? Ovid was sure he wasn’t afraid of death. Was it because he was unwilling to die at this exact moment, unable to leave behind a single scar on this deacon’s body? Ovid did not think like that. He cared not if he can truly harm Myia or not, but he continued to attack, ignoring the loom of death before him. 

In the clergy, a person typically masters only one sort of fighting style, as the accumulated knowledge of over thousands of years simply made it completely impossible for a single individual to specialise multiple techniques. Myia, for example, concentrated solely on the Five Flames Script, and without the technique, her dagger and fist could not hit a fly, much less Ovid. 

But many years ago, when humanity was unenlightened, such specialisation did not exist. What humans at that time used at that time was something rarely seen today. Of the few who still practice it, it is simply called over channelling mana. 

What Ovid is currently unconsciously doing was exactly over channelling his mana. To him, it was something as natural as drinking water - perhaps it was due to the moments before he had died; when he could acutely feel apart part of his body. 

Regardless, Ovid’s sword flicked upwards in a strange fashion, drawing through the chains and cloth on Myia’s armour, ripping it without any difficulties. 

It was as though the vast tundra had been lit aflame by beams spat from the stars. 

An extremely clear swish resounded. 

A stream of fresh blood poured out, and Myia’s left arm was chopped off, landing in a puddle far away.

Almost at the same time, Myia’s fist handed on Ovid’s head. 

A thunderous boom reverberated, as though a second raging firestorm had begun in the tundra.

Ovid’s right foot landed upon the ground, and his sandals immediately ripped apart. 

The dust beneath, akin to fleeing for dear life, scattered out, revealing the hard permafrost that had started to crack. 

The final sound that drowned out the other two was very hard to describe, similar to a castle door finally breaking down beneath the fury of a thousand men. 

Silence.

Myia’s arm was already chopped off, her chest to shoulder was covered entirely in blood. 

Her face was pale and her right hand was placed before Ovid’s head.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

However, Ovid’s head did not shatter like an overly ripe watermelon.

Myia’s mana was already exhausted, her fist unable to continue forward. 

Between the forefront of her fist and Ovid’s head, a feeble stick that still had some mud at its tip appeared at some point. 

A rather weary voice stated, “You have lost.”

The stick was in Cai Hua’s hand, and the voice originated from his mouth. 

Myia retrieved her fist, and slowly, weakly, took four steps back. She looked at the Cai Hua with a pale complexion and asked with slight dismay, “This… isn’t just a twig, right?”

Afterwards, she looked at Ovid who was still holding the sword in his hand. Staring at the teenager whose hair had become undone, she confirmed that Ovid was still very much alive, and the frustration on her face increased. She muttered, “How is this kid so sturdy?” 

When she punched out with her now only arm, she had concentrated all the mana she had accumulated within her body - it could even be argued that that strength exceeded that possible of a deacon. Even if Cai Hua had summoned the last vestiges of his battle prowess, even if that stick is secretly a treasury worth entire nations, it cannot stop the transfer of force. Logically, no matter what, Ovid would have in the slightest, suffered a concussion enough to make him braindead, but looking at it now, it was completely unharmed. 

Myia’s confusion exceeded even the pain from her missing arm. Only a few creatures in the world, like the legendary dragon, could withstand that with their physical body alone. 

Suddenly, the stick Cai Hua was holding disintegrated, the countless pieces disappearing along with a light breeze.

Some of the fragments flew into Cai Hua’s face, causing him to cough three times. 

Ovid brought back the outstretched sword with great difficulty, then proceed to place it horizontally in front of himself and Cai Hua, ready to try and receive Myia’s next attack. At this moment, he was in terrible pain from channelling mana wildly without entering the state of deaconhood. Some of his blood vessels had burst and his consciousness was fading as the world turned into a blur. Fortunately, Cai Hua’s knowledge was profound and his gaze accurate, so since he could see through the blade moves, and point of the flaws in Myia’s defence with the utmost of ease… if he said Myia had been defeated, then Myia must be truly defeated. 

Ovid’s sword had caused a deep wound through Myia’s flesh. Although he was unable to break through the mana protecting her and pierce the heart, the rampaging mana channelled through the sword had already completely dispelled any mana remaining in her body. Myia no longer had the power to battle. At this moment, even Anna, who was too weak to even tussle a chicken, could easily defeat Myia. 

Myia eased her fist back into a palm and used it to cover the severed limb on the other side of her body. She looked at Ovid, and her emotions were complicated. No matter how she imagined, she would have never thought she would actually suffer so badly in the hand of this simple peasant. 

Suddenly, she recalled a certain matter. Her expression changed slightly and she said, “Lady Anna truly has an eye for talent.”

Ovid had quickly regained his composure despite his flirt with death, however, his mind was rather absent from the bloodloss. As such, he could not hear Myia clearly at all. 

Myia did not need Ovid to respond, simply presuming it was arrogance from being so close with the empress’s sister. She turned her gaze to Cai Hua and said sincerely, “I never thought your distinguished self would exceed your reputation. Although this was a disgrace for me, saints and immortals are few and far between… may your distinguished self answer some of my questions so I may die in peace?”

Cai Hua thought for a while, before using his silence to permit these questions. 

Myia lowered her head before asking for guidance, “Sir, the ‘Five Flames Script’ say that when mastered, it is able to move through all mediums… I and many others have practised it for countless years, yet still cannot achieve that state. May I ask sir why that is so?” 

The ‘Five Flames Script’ was a technique personally created by Julia after she had subjugated much of the continent. Naturally, there are countless individuals who want to follow in her footsteps and master the manual, but even after ten thousand years, no one aside from Julia had mastered it. 

Today, Myia had come to kill Cai Hua, but in the last moments of her life, the matter she could not let go was not Cai Hua’s death or her own, but rather, to ask this question on the ‘Five Flames Script’.

She was not only asking it on beneath of herself but also countless other practitioners of the ‘Five Flames Script’ on the continent.

“That’s because you and everyone else was born on the wrong month.” Cai Hua did not give the talented deacon on the brink of death any comfort or warmth and said it very directly.

Myia did not become angry, and asked seriously, “There are countless practitioners practising the manual at this moment, is not one born at the right time?”

Cai Hua said, “The constellation Julia draws mana from has become her sole property. Anyone born under those months would be considered completely talentless no matter how excellent they are at manipulating mana or spiritual essence.”

Mana originates from the stars, but each star possesses different natures. Since only one person could harness the mana required to master the ‘Five Flames Script’, then only one person can truly use the technique to its’ full potential. 

Hearing this, Myia finally understood something and knew that with this knowledge, she could prevent countless of her clergywomen from going down a futile path. Just as she was beginning to feel happy, she suddenly remembered she was about to die, and could not help but chuckle at her thoughts. 

Cai Hua suddenly recalled a matter and calmly added, “Also, the twig was randomly picked up from the ground. If it was a treasure, you would not be able to continue standing.”