Kaelan's gaze fixes on the incoming golden spear.
He tightens his fist. The air trembles as energy from the surrounding trees surges into his body, drawn like rivers into an ocean.
Now that he has fully mastered the Thirty-Six Solar Term Sword magic power, every move is his to command, to weave together as he wishes.
He channels the sixth move of the Spring Rain Sword—Blood Surge. Crimson energy ripples through his veins, his pulse thundering in rhythm with the earth itself.
Then comes the seventh move—Lightning Shock. Sparks crawl across his skin, dancing between his knuckles as his arm cocks back for a strike.
He fuses both with the fourth move of the Silent Wind Sword—Silent Roar.
His punch erupts forward. No sound, only devastation.
The invisible shockwave tears through the air, ploughing the earth, splintering trees into dust.
The vibration collides with the golden spear, halting its charge mid-flight.
The ground splits apart, trembling under the clash, while the horses on the carriages behind Kaelan whine and rear in panic.
Kaelan's eyes narrow. The battlefield is too fragile for what is to come next.
If this continues here, his subordinates will die—and his mission will crumble under the weight of collateral ruin.
He releases the lightning he had been holding back from the seventh move.
A bolt of blinding light tears forward, electrifying the vibration wave.
The collision detonates in a thunderous explosion, shattering the golden spear and hurling the three brothers backwards.
Kaelan moves instantly, his figure blurring through the haze of dust and light.
He thinks he needs a spiritual treasure sword soon—either to buy one or refine his own. The one from the Spring Cloud Sect is too risky; using it would expose his identity.
He attacks barehanded, each punch laced with traces of the Thirty-Six Solar Term Sword magic power.
The three brothers regroup, their qi merging once more. Together, they fight with the might of a peak Core Formation cultivator—but alone, each stands only at the middle stage.
Even so, they refuse to yield. And Kaelan, amidst their defiance, feels his blood ignite once again.
He senses it—the rhythm of their retreat, the pattern of their steps.
They are not fighting to win. They are leading him somewhere.
Kaelan lets them. He wants the fight away from his subordinates, and from the circling crows above; he already knows eight more wait in ambush.
The path narrows into a valley, its walls steep and silent.
He stops at its mouth, watching the three brothers slow down ahead.
In one motion, he releases the pressure in his body, breaking their formation apart.
The ground cracks as his power bursts outward, and the three brothers are hurled down like broken kites.
They crash into the dirt, coughing blood, barely holding their weapons.
The youngest, clutching his ribs, shouts hoarsely, "Are you all not willing to fulfil the agreement?"
Kaelan rises into the air, his shadow stretching across the rocks.
"If you all don't come out," he says, voice cold, "I'm leaving."
Five figures break through the forest, surrounding him in a tight arc.
Among them, he recognises one—Ke Xin.
Kaelan's eyes move from face to face, then past them into the treeline.
"What about you three?" he says. "Still not coming out?"
Three more figures emerge.
One of them bows slightly. "Lord Wuya, I'm not with them. I'm Yu Qing from Tianfeng. I only came to observe."
The second, a woman in crimson armour, steps forward. "I am Ren Liye of the Ren Kingdom. I came to deliver an invitation to the Phoenix Banquet."
Kaelan raises a brow. "Oh? Where's the invitation?"
Ren Liye lifts a red-gold envelope, the faint light around it carrying divine warmth.
Before Kaelan can speak, an old man among the five laughs, voice sharp as fire. "You think you can attend an invitation after this?"
His aura surges—fire, light, and wind intertwine behind him.
Three Laws manifest, his strength soaring to the late Core Formation Realm. If he fuses them perfectly, he can touch the peak.
The others reveal their power in answer.
Ke Xin's energy burns with metal and fire, while the others unveil their own—wind, ice, and water; earth and fire; metal and earth.
The air thickens with killing intent.
Kaelan's gaze hardens.
He decides to use his full strength while masking his energy.
With a breath, he releases the Holy Fetus.
Above him, a vast crow-headed figure unfurls its wings, its shadow darkening the valley.
The moment it appears, the world stills.
Spiritual energy freezes under the pressure, trembling at the boundary of collapse.
Now, no one can draw power easily near him.
Kaelan lowers his head, eyes gleaming like stormfire.
The enemies tense, their qi surging.
And in the next heartbeat, the battle begins.
The sky splits with light.
Fire and metal crash against dark ice, the valley below shattering under the weight of their clash.
Kaelan meets every strike, each movement deliberate, each deflection precise.
The old man's flames descend like a blazing storm, searing through the frozen air.
Ke Xin's metal blades follow, spinning arcs of molten light that aim for Kaelan's neck and spine.
He twists midair, parrying with the edge of his arm, each impact sending ripples through the clouds.
The others surround him from all sides, their spiritual energy pressing in like walls.
Wind lashes his back, ice spears rain from above, and molten earth erupts beneath him.
Kaelan blocks the first, dodges the second, and absorbs the third into his aura.
His defence is flawless—but his breathing grows heavier.
Every motion eats at his strength, every counter drains his control.
The old man, seeing this, grins coldly. "You can't hold forever, Lord Wuya."
Kaelan doesn't answer. His focus sharpens.
Gravity shifts around him as he parries Ke Xin's next blow, lightning flickering at the edges of his eyes.
The holy fetus above him spreads its wings wider, warding off the crushing auras pressing from every side.
The clash carries them higher into the air, over ridges and broken clouds.
Each collision sends waves of energy down the valley, splitting boulders and uprooting trees.
Time stretches.
The sun sinks lower, dyeing the horizon in crimson and gold.
The light flickers across their blades and shattered armour.
Kaelan's cloak burns at the edges, his arms bloodied but steady.
He fights on—silent, enduring—like a shadow refusing to fade.
And as the sun finally dips beyond the mountains, the battlefield plunges into dim light.
The air grows cold again.
And though Kaelan stands wounded and surrounded, his eyes gleam in the dark—unbroken, waiting for night to turn the tide.
As the sun vanishes beyond the ridge, silence falls.
Only the faint hum of spiritual energy remains—then the first chill descends.
The moon breaks through the fading light, pale and distant, and the moment it appears, Kaelan moves.
His right hand cuts through the air, and his voice, low and cold, spills into the night. "The Nullifying Night."
The world answers.
Darkness folds inward, swallowing what little light lingers. Clouds surge across the sky, heavy with snow and shadow, blotting out the moon. The temperature plummets.
Kaelan's holy fetus rises above him and disappears into the storm. A moment later, the clouds twist unnaturally—alive, conscious—its surface rippling like breath.
Snow begins to fall.
Slowly at first, then in a torrent, each flake shimmering with faint dark light.
The battlefield dims until only the faint outlines of figures remain.
The five ultimate realm martial artists glance around, forming a defensive circle. But the air feels thick, heavy—something unseen pressing against them.
Ke Xin narrows his eyes. "This pressure—"
Before he can finish, the gravity doubles.
Their feet drag downward, spiritual energy flickering out of rhythm. The snow keeps falling, but this is no ordinary snow—it devours light, swallows heat, and drinks in mana.
The old man tries to summon fire, but the flame snuffs out before it blooms. His aura fades, the surrounding cold gnawing at his skin.
The others begin to realise the horror of the spell.
"This snow—" one gasps, "it's feeding on our energy!"
Kaelan stands unmoving within the storm, his silhouette blurred by the swirling frost. Each step he takes deepens the gravity field, pressing them closer to the ground.
Ke Xin grits his teeth, metal qi flaring weakly, but the moment it touches the snow, it dissolves into the void.
Their movements slow to a crawl.
The first to falter is Ke Xin. The ground cracks as he drops to one knee, then falls completely, landing on the snow-covered earth with a muffled thud.
Another martial artist crashes beside him, unable to maintain flight.
Above them, Kaelan's eyes glow faintly through the storm.
He raises his hand, and the snow stirs.
Underneath the surface, shadows ripple—thin tendrils of darkness, shaped like robes woven from the night itself.
The robes surge upward, coiling around Ke Xin and the fallen cultivator. They scream, but their voices vanish into the storm.
The dark robes tighten, siphoning their remaining qi, and their bodies still.
In the sky, Kaelan turns his gaze toward the last three still hovering, their faces pale beneath the black snow.
The Nullifying Night deepens, and the storm roars.
The storm trembles as light pierces through it.
A radiant beam tears the clouds apart, scattering the dark snow like shards of glass.
Kaelan's holy fetus screeches, its cry echoing through the broken heavens.
From the rift of torn storm cloud descends a figure—her wings a cascade of silver and gold, each feather burning with twilight glow.
The sky, once devoured by night, now bleeds into dusk again.
Kaelan squints against the sudden brilliance, his expression sharpening.
His mind rings with a single whisper, not his own—an ancient resonance that hums through his spirit space. Twilight Protoss.
His breath steadies. So the gods finally move.
The woman lands above the shattered storm, her bare feet never touching the snow.
The radiance of her wings burns away the dark energy that binds the fallen, her gaze calm yet distant—neither human nor divine, but something in between.
Kaelan's holy fetus caws again, flames of dark ice rippling across its form as if ready to strike.
He raises his hand slowly, eyes narrowing. "A Twilight Protoss… here."
The air between them freezes and burns at once, as night and light wrestle for dominion in the wounded sky.
And the old man shouts." Ancestor."