“First, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Wilsar. I’ll be in your care. By chance, I’m rather fond of swords—care for a little ‘sparring’?”

The middle-aged man wiped his long blade, steel gleaming like moonlit water; so it was his sword my Shattered Light had nicked.

…

Danger flooded cold through me, like winter rain in the bones. Wilsar’s pressure dwarfed what I felt facing Lixin alone; his strength towered over hers like a mountain over a hill. If not for Shattered Light’s Primordial Source aura warding his presence, I’d have crumpled like a leaf in gale.

If Wilsar sits above Lixin, then… Law Realm—the kind that stands with the apex of the four great races, like peaks above clouds.

A harsh explosion rattled the air nearby, like thunder splitting stone. I turned on instinct and saw Lingxiao and Lingsaki being pressed back, caught between Lixin and a middle-aged Dark Demon, their footing slipping like sand under tide.

Leave Lixin aside; that Dark Demon had Overdeity Peak strength, sharp as a hawk’s eye. Could he be their leader? Neither he nor Lixin went all out; otherwise Lingxiao and Lingsaki would’ve fallen like candles to wind. The gap made despair feel like iron chains.

I looked to Lixue. She was pinned in a storm of blades, forced into pure defense, hemmed in by a young Overdeity Level male—likely another outsider like Lixin and Wilsar—and three Divine Peak magus-warriors. Three Basiloth Empire elite armies ringed them, a dark tide of four to five hundred, ranked between SS and mid Saint-tier.

In short, their situation was bleak, like dusk swallowing light. Damn it—we’d walked straight into a trap, like fish into a net.

One Law Realm. Three Overdeity Level. Three Divine Peak. Plus three elite corps of the Basiloth Empire, banners like crows over the city. We’d barely set foot in Cerol City, and this was the grand “welcome.” No one felt like laughing.

This battle would be a bitter one, like tea steeped too long. Winning? A fantasy. Even escape blurred like mist.

“Lanxia, go help Lixue.”

I dropped from the dragon’s back onto a rooftop, heart heavy as stone; no time to play at dragon-rider games.

“…Mm! Mizumi, be careful—this man’s dangerous.”

Even confident Lanxia felt the chill. She spared no more words, and streaked toward Lixue like a blue swallow.

I sent Lanxia to Lixue because her sky was darker than the others’, clouds piled thicker there.

“Worthy of the Mizumi Clan,” Wilsar said, voice smooth as silk over steel. “In a storm like this, you’re still minding others. Are you so sure you can beat me?”

“Honestly? Not even one in ten.”

If he were Overdeity Peak, maybe. But Wilsar is Law Realm—moving from wielding laws to drafting them, like a scribe turning emperor. That gap crushes hope like a boot on grass.

“Then why not run?” Wilsar kept talking, the way wind chats through bamboo.

“Too late. Can’t.”

Even facing a Law Realm giant, I had to stand, like a sapling in a gale. Please, Primordial Source aura—let it work on Wilsar. I prayed like a pilgrim under a cold moon.

“Good resolve,” he said, a connoisseur admiring a blade’s line. “Rest easy. As a lover of swords, I’ll meet you with pure swordsmanship. Whether you can take it… that’s another matter.”

His body vanished like a candle snuffed. My Sword Intent felt him, a thread-thin ripple in the dark.

I retreated at full speed and slashed, Sword Aura cutting the air. Clang—the sound rang like a bell; Wilsar’s form bled back into sight, pressure weighing like an ocean. He pressed down lightly with his long blade; the force hurled me away like a leaf on torrent. I caught the rooftop lightning rod at the last instant; one more breath, and I’d have fallen thirty floors into night.

…

My hands fizzed numb, useless like frostbitten branches. I swallowed a Holy Healing Fruit, pain flaring like sparks. Law Realm power far outstripped my guesses. Shattered Light’s strength was already fully roused—my limit burning like a torch—yet I couldn’t block his casual flick.

“Supreme Divine Spirit Medicine’s Holy Healing Fruit,” Wilsar said, half amused, half pained, like seeing a jewel used as a brick. “Watching you pop them like common potions hurts. Still, let’s see how long you last leaning on toys.”

He half crouched and set his blade at his hip, a draw stance coiled like a spring. I braced for the Draw Sword Technique, pouring Sword Aura into Shattered Light like rain into a cistern, but—

“Flash. Shatter.”

His front foot trembled, a pebble kissing water; he turned into sword-light, a straight line through night.

“Sword Qi Storm—ugh!”

My tornado of Sword Qi rose like a dragon, then met a storm of blades—dozens, then hundreds—slices as fine as rain cutting silk. It scattered at once. No room to run; my Sword Qi wall broke like thin ice. He appeared behind me like a shadow. I took a grievous wound. If not for the fatal cut catching Shattered Light by luck, I’d have gone down to the underworld.

Another Holy Healing Fruit; fire became warmth, wounds knitting like closing petals. I couldn’t smile. My ring held only fifteen left.

A minute, maybe a hair more. He’d struck twice. I’d eaten two fruits. At this rate, fifteen more moves, give or take. That was the cliff.

Worse, Shattered Light’s surge has a time limit. The only reason I can breathe and swallow fruit is the Primordial Source aura’s shelter, like a cloak in sleet. Without it, I’d have broken already.

When the aura fades, I’ll have no way to fight back. Truth be told, I’m already close to that edge.

If Wilsar just gets a little serious, the aura’s help goes to zero, like a candle in rain.

“Pity,” Wilsar said, looking at Shattered Light as if it were a rare star. “Without that Primordial Source shelter, you’d have died to that cut.”

He nodded toward my sword. “Here’s a deal. Hand me that blade nicely, and I’ll spare you once.”

“…I decline.”

My hands shook on Shattered Light, despair rising like black tide. Xinuo wasn’t by my side. Was I going to die here, swallowed by night? A mad idea sparked—compress the Sword Domain again, squeeze it to a second point, and force more power out of Shattered Light.

“A wise man bends to the current,” Wilsar said, like a proverb under tea steam. “Still, whether you hand it over or I take it off your corpse, it’s about the same.”

He’d already written the ending in his head, ink dry. Cruel truth—he wasn’t wrong.

…

Think, then do. I had no other road. I breathed deep, fed Sword Intent into the point-sized Sword Domain, and began the second refinement, a needle piercing the dark.

!!!

Power ripped out of Shattered Light like a golden sun, far beyond what my frame could bear. The light blazed brighter, a dawn poured into night, and half of Cerol City turned gold. In the sky, scattered golden starlight fell like petals—terrible, beautiful.

“Oh?” Wilsar’s eyes lit, a collector admiring a meteor. “Your Primordial Source aura grew richer. Shame your own strength caps it. If you could rouse a tenth of an Origin Artifact’s power, I’d be the one running.”

He remained unhurried, savoring the gilded night like wine.

…

I gulped down four, five Holy Healing Fruits, the sweetness sharp as medicine; my body steadied by a thread, just shy of bursting like an overfilled skin. Even so, I could hold at most three minutes. Not a second to waste.

“Sky-Sword. Moonbreaker!”

I dashed for Wilsar like an arrow and cast my heaviest slash, Sword Qi surging like a river under moon. Wilsar lifted his blade lazily; then a sudden flurry—downward cuts, a dozen in a heartbeat, rain breaking bamboo.

Ugh.

My Sword Qi broke apart like glass under hammer. Blows bit into me, one after another, and flung me through the air. I slammed into the great clock tower beside the high-rise, metal groaning like an old bell. My innards twisted like ropes; pain roared.

I forced down a Holy Healing Fruit. Breath steadied. I’d almost gone cold.

That time, Wilsar had definitely taken me more seriously—no mere casual flicks.

So this is Law Realm strength—no need for law power, just sword skill carving me like wood. His swordwork stood far above mine; each move had flavor and rhythm, like poetry in steel. Not Xinuo’s level, but still beyond my reach.

Huh. Shattered Light’s power kept climbing, a tide that wouldn’t turn yet. Back on the Eastern Moon Continent, Xinuo helped me rouse one percent of Shattered Light. I thought it was amazing, and never looked deeper.

Now, it was hitting that one percent again. This time, I could feel the mystery, a subtle enlightenment opening like a flower at night.

Also, the Primordial Source aura wrapped me like a mantle, feeding strength to keep me from tearing under the surge. It was temporary, yes—but enough for now.

“Not bad,” Wilsar laughed, light as wind. “Today’s an eye-opener. Seventeen, eighteen years old, and you can explode like this? If the Inner World’s top ten ‘peerless prodigies’ saw you, they’d die of shame.”

His form vanished again, a candle flame blinked away. Behind—again? I spun and cut, Shattered Light hissing. Nothing.

Not behind—above! At the razor instant, I ducked. His blade whistled past. Golden hair burst around me, scattered like rain, drifting down in sheaves.

…

I caught a handful of fallen strands, gold glinting like wheat. Anger trembled in me, a heat without words.

“You dodged?” Wilsar sounded amused. “And what’s with that face? I just gave you a free haircut. A man with hair that long—really? Though, it suits you.”

Instead of my head, he’d taken half my much-praised long hair. I couldn’t tell whether to thank the stars or curse the moon.