Back at the Supreme Elder's Courtyard, Dao Wei moved.
Swoosh!
He was faster than a whisper in the wind, faster than light.
Clang!
A metallic screech shattered the silence.
Dao Wei summoned Tian, his sword, at the last possible moment to counter Diteyi's spear. But to his shock, he wasn't holding Tian—but rather the Godsword Skyfall. The sword that had been buried within the Sword Burial Grounds for millennia, unclaimed, yet now it rested in his grasp as if it had always belonged to him.
Skyfall sang as it met the spear, its ancient metal ringing with a resonance that shook the heavens. The force of the impact sent Diteyi staggering backward, a frown flashing across his otherwise arrogant face. For the first time since descending from the heavens, Diteyi felt something foreign.
Fear.
Their battle would be one for the ages, a legendary clash between two geniuses of the Mortal World.
"Nice sword," Diteyi scoffed as he steadied himself. "If not so, then this wouldn't be worth my time. Hahaha!"
Dao Wei barely heard him. His mind raced. 'What the heck just happened?' He had summoned Tian—he was sure of it. And yet, Skyfall had answered his call instead. He had never ventured into the Sword Burial Grounds to claim her, yet she had chosen him of her own accord. What did this mean for him—for the entire martial world? A sword of such renown would set the world ablaze. Unlike Tian, who was shrouded in obscurity, Skyfall was infamous. There would be no hiding her.
But there was no time to ponder on any of that.
Boom!
Diteyi vanished, only to reappear an instant later, his movements distorted as if reality itself lagged behind him. A ghostly afterimage remained in the space he had left, flickering away like a dying ember.
He laughed, the sound was sharp as his spear glowed with a malevolent light. "Let's see how long you can keep that arrogance!"
Howl!
Multiple spearheads burst forth from the black spear, each one radiating an oppressive aura, carving through the air like meteors set to obliterate mountains.
Dao Wei's eyes narrowed. "Trivial stunts."
Skyfall swung in a blur, its blade casting a silver arc of destruction.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Each spearhead met its end in an instant, crumbling into nothingness before they could reach him. The sheer force of his strikes sent ripples through space, warping the battlefield itself.
Poof!
Both warriors disappeared at the same time.
Their movements surpassed mortal perception, their battle waging in flashes of light and echoes of destruction. In mere breaths, they clashed and retreated countless times, leaving streaks of energy in their wake like falling stars locked in eternal pursuit.
Clang!
Each impact shattered mountain peaks, splintered the remnants of the sect's halls, and uprooted towering trees as if they were mere weeds.
Boom!
The shockwaves alone sent warriors from both factions scrambling for safety. Those still locked in combat abandoned their fights, fleeing to the edges of the battlefield as the overwhelming power of the two combatants threatened to erase anything caught in its path.
A battle had just begun—one that would shake the heavens and rewrite the fate of the Mortal World.
Elsewhere, the air crackled with anticipation, static clinging to the very mountainside where a collection of figures stood like statues against the vast landscape. Below them, two figures, barely discernible at this distance, were poised to clash.
A Stoic Elder, his white beard flowing like cascading clouds, leaned on his gnarled wooden staff. His narrowed eyes reflected wisdom sharpened by countless years of battle.
"Hmph. Sword Childe. Much noise has surrounded this upstart. Challenging a Celestial Chosen… audacity, or true confidence?"
Beside him, a young disciple shifted eagerly, his youthful hands adjusting the hilt of his sword. "Master, the rumors say his meteoric rise is unparalleled! Some whisper he might even... be the incarnate of the Sword Emperor himself!"
The old master exhaled slowly, his gaze unwavering. "Rumors are whispers carried on the wind, Lin. Substance is proven by steel. Celestial Chosen are touched by fate itself. The Sword Childe, for all his clamor, still walks the mortal path. Let us see if he can even touch the hem of Celestial Chosen Diteyi's robes."
Lin hesitated before pressing further. "But Elder, his sword intent… they say it's sharp enough to cut through mountains, his speed like lightning..."
"Speed and sharpness are but facets," Elder Jin countered, tapping his staff against the rocky ground. "True power lies in understanding the Dao itself. Diteyi is said to commune with the very abyss. Can the Sword Childe boast such a might?" His eyes gleamed with deep contemplation. "We shall see if arrogance is met with reality today."
The atmosphere was less tense and far more festive within the Crimson Phoenix House's encampment. A makeshift gambling table stood between a ring of raucous practitioners, led by their loud and flamboyantly robed master, Yan.
"Alright, place your bets! The Crimson Flame Club is backing Demon Childe, naturally! Odds are still slightly in favor of the Chosen, but that Sword Childe fella… he's got fire in his eyes! Anyone betting on the underdog?!"
A hesitant disciple frowned. "Master Yan, are you… betting against Demon Childe yourself?"
Master Yan grinned, throwing a pair of jade dice onto the table. "Heh! A wise gambler hedges his bets! Demon Childe SHOULD win. But this Sword Childe... there's a wild card feel about him! Think of the payout if he actually pulls it off! Anyone on the Sword Childe for a thousand Spirit Stones?! Come on, fortune favors the brave!"
Another disciple shook his head. "No thank you, Master Yan. I'll stick with the safer bet. Demon Childe all the way."
Master Yan chuckled. "Suit yourselves! More winnings for me then!" He slammed his palm against the table as the dice tumbled across the wood. "Let's see if my gamble pays off, eh?"
A short distance away, away from the noise, two swordmasters stood in quiet contemplation. The air between them was filled with the scent of cold steel and unsheathed intent.
The female swordmaster slowly unsheathed her simple, unadorned sword. "Feng, did you see the subtle shift in Sword Childe's aura just now? The way he centers himself… it's reminiscent of the Flowing Willow style, but… sharper, more focused."
Beside her, Swordmaster Feng, a weathered master of the blade, stroked his chin in deep thought. "Indeed. And Diteyi's initial posture… almost ethereal. His stance is less about deflecting and redirecting and more about… brute force—the Celestial Spear style, as expected. Look at the way he breathes, Mei. It's almost imperceptible, yet his energy roils around him like a raging storm."
Mei's sharp eyes flickered with intrigue. "Sword Childe's grip on his sword… see how light it is? He's coiled, ready to explode. He's aiming for a decisive first strike, I wager. He intends to overwhelm Diteyi before he can fully unleash the Celestial Spear's techniques."
Feng's expression darkened slightly. "A bold strategy, if so. But against a Celestial Chosen… is it wise to rely solely on raw power? The Celestial Spear style is designed to counter such aggression. It will be a clash of philosophies, not just blades."
Mei glanced at Diteyi's spear, a gleaming weapon barely visible in the distance. "It looks… ordinary from here, but I sense a profound energy within it. Almost… alive. Celestial Weapons are said to choose their wielders. This is more than just a contest of skill, Feng. It's a clash of destiny itself."
Farther up the mountainside, a lone figure stood with his hands clasped behind his back. The Silent Killer, a man whose mere presence commanded respect, observed the unfolding battle from afar.
He murmured to himself, his tone unreadable. "Celestial Chosen versus a rising star… interesting. The balance of power on the continent is delicate. A victory for Sword Childe could disrupt many established hierarchies, potentially opening new paths, or creating dangerous chaos."
His jade-like eyes remained fixed on the distant battlefield, his thoughts a mystery. "This battle… it will be more than just a spectacle. It could be the first tremor of a coming storm, or simply a fleeting firework. The heavens alone shall decide."
In the meantime, back at the Sword God Sect, the battle between Dao Wei and Diteyi had transcended the realm of mortals. The heavens churned above, the earth quaked below, and the air itself became a battlefield, thick with the collision of sword Qi and demonic energy. Ruined halls and shattered stone littered the once-magnificent sect grounds, now reduced to a mere backdrop to a war between two titans.
Diteyi's crimson eyes burned like twin infernos, as he let out a low chuckle. "Your Highness, you stand before a Celestial Chosen, and yet you still resist? How laughable. Then let me grant you a swift death!"
Rumble!
He raised his hand, his demonic aura surging. From the blood-soaked ground, twisted specters of himself emerged—Blood Asura Phantoms. Each clone mirrored his stance perfectly, their movements so precise that distinguishing the original became impossible.
Dao Wei narrowed his eyes. 'Illusions? No, these are real... each one is carrying a fragment of his true strength.'
"Tch, a worthy trick, but not enough."
Boom!
With a wave of his spear, Diteyi unleashed the Crimson Demon Spears. Each spear tore through the sky, bending and distorting space, causing rifts to flicker in and out of existence. They shot forward in a synchronized storm of destruction, twisting unpredictably through the void.