After a moment, everything stilled, as if the storm had been a mirage, and the torn clouds peeled back to show a clear blue like polished jade.
I lay sprawled on the cliff, breath sawing like a bellows; the drain was brutal—once I unleashed the Destruction Invisible Sword, I couldn’t hold the Sword Domain and it broke like mist.
Lucky I blocked it; otherwise the ending would’ve been a cliff-edge drop into darkness I don’t dare picture.
I stared up at that deep blue, the sun pouring down like warm tea, and a soft ease seeped in.
Mm… it’s been ages—sunny day, lying back, letting warmth soak through like silk.
Back at the Mizumi Clan, I did that often, sometimes dozing mid-sunbeam; the thought hit like a faint fragrance—nostalgia, homesick.
I stretched, bones popping like bamboo, and that lazy looseness flowed.
Then I checked myself—stamina held like a steady fire, but my mind was a frayed string.
Sleep tugged at me like a tide; I could drift off any second… what do I do?
Too bad only I knew this mess, and knowing wouldn’t help anyone anyway.
I’m challenging the Nine Cold Labyrinth; you don’t get perfect form every hour in a winter maze.
Of course, monsters like Xinuo are another story—meteors don’t ask the night’s permission.
While my thoughts wandered like wind through pine, the majestic voice returned from above, a temple bell in the clouds.
“Young challenger, you’ve withstood the lightning. You have ten minutes to regulate your breath. Prepare for Trial Two—attacks from lightning Dragon Kin. Good luck. May this king have cause to appear.”
Ten minutes, huh. I’d thought that was plenty, but reality cut like cold water.
In this state, ten minutes barely knits a torn mind; stamina’s fine, spirit’s the cracked cup.
Everyone knows spirit comes back in two ways: long rest like wintering, or potions and elixirs with thorns hidden under petals.
No time, no draughts—tears pricked like rain under the eyelids.
That’s the price of poor prep; I remembered those idle novels where heroes set out laden like caravans—underwear to war-blades, tonics to pet beasts.
Some even hauled alchemy furnaces and a mountain of herbs, like turtles with portable homes.
Me? Besides the Shattered Light Sword, nothing.
Food, water, clothes—I scrounged from guardians on the earlier floors, like scraping bowls after a feast.
If not for their kindness—roof, meal, garment—I would’ve dropped like a lamp in a gale.
Without noticing, I’d reached the sixth floor; time slips like sand through fingers.
Clear this, then three more, and I can leave the Nine Cold Labyrinth with the Ice Dream Lotus.
I’ll bring it back and heal Hill—if I don’t fail. If I do, that dream shatters like frost glass.
No use overthinking; recover what I can, a thread at a time.
The second trial’s almost here—lightning dragons. How many? How strong?
I nearly broke under the first lightning trial; this one will be steeper, and the final guardian is a mountain beyond.
That thought sank my mood like a stone in dark water.
Enough. When the boat reaches the bridge, it’ll cross.
I took long breaths, let stray thoughts fall like leaves, and focused on mending spirit’s weave.
Ten brief minutes flew like a sparrow’s shadow.
“All right, rest time ends now.”
The voice counted down, each number like a drumbeat—“Ten, nine, eight… three, two, one. This king announces: Trial Two begins!”
Rumble.
Clouds surged back, smothering the sun like a lid, and the sky dimmed to iron.
Lightning flared brighter and madder, staining the void with white fire; thick silver threads writhed like roaming dragons, flashing over every inch of sky.
“Ang!!!”
A dragon’s roar cracked the heavens, and the lightning went feral; the nearby space shivered like glass under a song.
Two vast, blurred shadows coalesced above, their contours unmistakable—dragons, storm-carved.
Seconds later, the blur sharpened—two silver-blue dragons, bigger than Hill by a margin.
Through Sword Intent I tasted their weight—no weaker than Hill, at least Holy Peak.
But dragons aren’t measured by ordinary realms; a Holy Peak dragon equals a half-step Divine Realm tempest.
In other words, I’m staring at two half-step Divine Realm powerhouses, like twin thunderheads.
“Funny—aside from Hill, this is my first time seeing other dragons.”
Why think that now? A stray reed in floodwater.
I lifted my gaze; they measured me in turn, eyes like polished sapphire.
One spoke, voice like thunder rolled in velvet. “Oh? A Sword Wielder. No wonder you reached the sixth floor this fast—the title ‘strongest class’ fits.”
“My name’s Jixiu Zak, Dragon Kin, lightning attribute.”
“I’m Leixi Zak, same as above. Pleased to meet you,” the other added, a lazy rumble like distant rain.
“Uh, I’m Yumigawa Sumeragi…”
Before I finished, Jixiu’s eyes narrowed with mild surprise, a flicker like starlight through cloud.
“I’d heard rumors, but this is still striking. The Central Continent overflows with resources—anything you want, it’s there.
Born of the Mizumi Clan, why challenge the Nine Cold Labyrinth?”
“Heh… for all sorts of reasons,” I said, letting the words drift like smoke.
I wasn’t about to lay out my path before Dragon Kin; they guard their own like cliffs guard nests.
If they learned Hill was hurt for me, they might sharpen their thorns on purpose.
“All right, Jixiu, drop the chatter,” Leixi yawned, voice like a lazy breeze. “Let’s start. Finish quick, go sleep. I’m beat.”
Jixiu looked ready to say more, but Leixi’s yawn cut it, a soft hammer on a gong.
Fair—minutes had bled away like dusk.
“Fine.”
Their massive heads dipped, then they climbed a hundred meters, bodies like rivers of metal winding skyward, clearly preparing to strike.
“Sir Yumigawa Sumeragi,” Jixiu called, formal as a carved seal. “Our Dragon Kin and the Mizumi Clan are close, but we won’t go easy. Show your true strength—and take care.”
“That’s that. Attack begins!” Leixi snapped, voice a crack of light.
Boom!
Two colossal beams, braided with lightning like burning vines, fell from the heavens with the momentum of ruin, aiming to erase all things like rain washing ink from paper.
