The faint smile lingered on Dustin’s lips as his fingers lightly traced the cloud patterns carved into the sword sheath. His voice was as clear and flowing as water by a lakeshore:
“Since you have awakened from slumber, why direct your anger at mere mortals?”
His gaze swept across the white radiance swirling about the handsome man. Within Dustin’s clear eyes seemed to turn the stars themselves, as though they could pierce the layers of time clinging to the other’s body.
The longsword upon the stone table gleamed with a warm luster under the sunlight. The turquoise inlays along its sheath shimmered faintly, and the air around it carried a subtle fragrance of grass and wood—a sharp contrast to the ancient, chilling aura radiating from the handsome man.
The figure hovering in the air faltered ever so slightly, surprise deepening in his eyes.
He had been awake for only a few days. Other than being disturbed by that sword aura earlier, he had not crossed paths with anyone. Yet this man in white robes had, with but a sentence, revealed his “slumbering” past. Such insight forced him to reevaluate the one before him.
“You know me?” His cold voice carried a trace of genuine inquiry, while the aura around him instinctively tightened.
The white glow that had flowed like water now condensed like fine white jade, sharp edges glinting with frost, and even the air seemed dyed with chill.
“I do not,” Dustin replied calmly, raising his hand to lay the freshly polished sword upon the table. “But I have heard the rumors of Penglai Island.”
Rumors that an immortal slumbered here. If fortune favored you, the immortal might bestow medicine.
If not… you would be slain like an ant.
“You are well-informed,” the man said coldly. “But I wonder—how many moves can you withstand against me?”
As his words fell, the pressure around him suddenly plummeted. Overhead, the once-clear sky grew dim.
Reeds by the lakeshore bent low as though bowing beneath an invisible weight.
The man floated higher, his robes flapping like banners in the storm of his aura. His long black hair burst free from its tie and whipped wildly in the light. His entire being radiated a suffocating pressure.
The smile vanished from Dustin’s eyes. He did not rise, but the space around him rippled with invisible waves.
The tea upon the stone table trembled in faint ripples. The canvas flaps of the tents swayed softly.
At the same time, the handsome man in the air went utterly still, his eyes half-shut as if in slumber. Only the white light around him continued to rise and fall rhythmically, like breathing.
The guards in the camp sensed something amiss. One by one they ceased their work, stepping out from the tents.
“Who is that man? Why is he dressed like someone from ancient times?”
“To float in midair for so long—at least a Grandmaster.”
“No! That vast, ocean-like pressure—he must be an Ultimate Grandmaster!”
The soldiers whispered nervously as they stared.
Just then, the tent flap stirred. Margaret emerged, clad in a pale violet gown.
The moment she appeared, she felt the strange oppression in the air. It was not the violent clash of spiritual power, but something deeper, intangible—a suffocating weight that made even breathing difficult.
At her side, the maid Qingzhu furrowed her brow, her right hand gripping the short sword at her waist so tightly the patterned hilt grew warm in her grasp.
Seeing the two men unmoving, she made to step forward.
“Don’t move!” Margaret seized Qingzhu’s wrist, her expression unusually grave. Even her normally gentle brows and eyes carried sternness. “You must not go near them!”
“Miss, why?” Qingzhu asked, confused.
“Their realms are far beyond your imagination,” Margaret replied. “Though they have not exchanged blows, they have already begun a battle of spiritual force. To approach rashly… is certain death!”
“Ah!” Qingzhu gasped and froze in place, no longer daring to step forward.
When she looked again, her eyes now held awe and fear.
Following Margaret’s gaze, she noticed it too—the air around the two men looked… different. Sunlight there twisted faintly, as if viewed through steaming water. Even the reflections on the lake blurred.
At that moment, a flicker at the edge of Qingzhu’s vision caught her eye.
A white egret glided gracefully just above the lakeshore. Its snowy wings shimmered under the sun, trailing droplets of water as it skimmed the surface, tracing a graceful arc through the air toward Dustin and the handsome man.
Seemingly unaware of danger, it flapped leisurely, uttering a crisp call.
But the instant it entered within ten meters of the two men, the strange occurred.
No sound. No sign.
The egret’s body suddenly writhed, as though crushed in an invisible fist. Its elegant form twisted grotesquely, its white wings burst apart in an instant, and its body swelled into a cloud of blood mist.
Feathers and flesh scattered silently, and without even a cry, it was utterly gone. - Marinien
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