Chapter Forty-Five: Return

The Kunpeng rises with the wind, soaring ninety thousand miles. The Kunpeng Seal is a divine technique of the Sacred Land, bordering on supernatural power; its might is nothing short of astonishing.

This was a strike representing the fastest force in the world. The immense shadow of the Kunpeng covered the sky, each feather so clear as to seem tangible.

The Kunpeng cried out, rushing toward Garo, dazzling divine light bursting forth, forcing all present to shut their eyes. It was as if the heavens and earth were shaking—the sky appeared to sink, waves of spiritual energy surged and scattered, even the usually tranquil lake churned with immense waves. In the distance, most spectators possessed only Spirit Communion-level strength; faced with this deluge of power, their figures wavered, and many fell to the ground.

“I am the sword, and the sword is me. Split the earth, shatter the void, cleave the heavens!”

In the next instant, since Garo began his duel, the first tangible sword aura cut through the air. The sharp brilliance of the blade hurt the eyes of any who glanced at it.

The sword beam, nearly several yards long, seemed to emerge from the depths of the Netherworld, threatening to tear the earth, shatter the void, and annihilate the heavens.

With a hiss, the sword aura swept across the sky, severing one wing of the Kunpeng. Yet the Kunpeng was but a shadow; even with one wing broken, it could not be stopped.

“Heaven-splitting…” Garo uttered in a low voice, another sword beam flashed, but the Kunpeng, with its incredible speed, thundered forth.

Boom—

Under the impact of that colossal Kunpeng shadow, the entire earth shook violently. Amid swirling dust, divine light pierced through like a blade. Waves of spiritual energy rolled in, sweeping everyone nearby several yards away.

When the light faded and the dust settled, the Kunpeng shadow vanished. At the eye of the storm stood Garo, drenched in blood, his clothes in tatters.

Yet he remained as upright as a pine, holding his iron sword, his aura fiercer than ever. The ancient sword in his hand seemed provoked, trembling ceaselessly, as if yearning to soar skyward.

Everyone was utterly stunned. Garo was far too powerful; they had expected him to be gravely wounded, if not dead, beneath the invincible Kunpeng Seal. But now, that strike, which could have slain scores of innate-level experts in an instant, seemed instead to have awakened his pride.

“Hmph, a spent arrow!”

The Second Holy Son snorted coldly, striding forward. At the same time, with a resonant clang, purple light shimmered as he gripped a true purple divine sword.

Garo’s body was bleeding from nearly a dozen wounds. Yet he stood unmoved as a pine, gazing coldly at the approaching Second Holy Son.

“I possess the speed of the Kunpeng—what have you to challenge me with?”

In the next moment, the Second Holy Son vanished from sight. A phantom flickered, and his figure appeared several yards away.

A low hum sounded—the iron sword in Garo’s hand began to tremble violently as soon as the Second Holy Son disappeared, then suddenly flew up on its own.

On the other side, Garo stood with eyes closed, murmuring softly, “Void-shattering!”

This time, the iron sword launched itself. As Garo spoke, it swept across the air toward a patch of emptiness.

A shocking scene unfolded: at the very instant the iron sword struck, the Second Holy Son’s speeding figure appeared precisely at that spot, as if deliberately meeting the blow.

Boom—

The ancient iron sword shattered the purple divine sword, then swept across the Second Holy Son, sending him tumbling away in disgrace.

The crowd erupted in astonishment—not that they had underestimated Garo’s strength, but that he was so formidable as to gain the upper hand even against the Second Holy Son. No one could believe it.

The Second Holy Son landed without a trace of gloom, only a fiercer determination. His face was grave as he spoke, “Remember this—you are the first peer of my age to force me to use this move.”

As all eyes anxiously watched the stage, a commotion began at the entrance of the ‘Battle Frenzy’ plaza.

“Haha… We hurried all the way, and finally arrived in Shrouded Sky City today. Felton, I heard that Birlwoton, that useless fellow, was killed—is it true?” A wild, unruly voice echoed from afar.

“Mutoon, don’t be so smug! Your good-for-nothing brother, Mus, was slain just a few days ago!” Hearing the brash voice, the Second Holy Son on the stage straightened and raised his voice.

In a flash, a black figure, fierce as a tiger, shot straight onto the arena. Wherever he passed, regardless of faction, he barreled through, sending people flying left and right.

“What did you say? Felton, you worthless trash, you couldn’t even protect my brother—what use are you?” The youth called Mutoon was over two meters tall, muscles bulging, wielding a heavy two-handed sword, eyes locked onto the Second Holy Son as if about to spit fire.

“Enough! Mutoon, you may be a Holy Son of the Mutoon clan, but you’re not qualified to shout at me!” The Second Holy Son’s expression was cold as he stared back at Mutoon, refusing to yield.

“Mutoon, step down. I already know of this; it has nothing to do with Felton—he only arrived yesterday. Your brother was killed several days ago by a youth named Leafwind!” Among the three who had followed Mutoon, an older youth spoke from below.

Upon hearing this, Mutoon glared fiercely at the Second Holy Son, then slowly turned, his wild aura surging as he stared at Garo. “Are you Leafwind, the one who killed my brother?”

“Uh…” Beside him, the Second Holy Son slapped his forehead, nearly thunderstruck.

“Mutoon, you idiot, get down here! If you disgrace us again, I’ll throw you back to the Sacred Land!” The youth below, equally exasperated, shouted in anger.

Yet the man on stage remained obstinate, lowering his voice as he said, “My name is Mutoon. You killed my brother—today I’ll kill you to avenge him!”

Below, everyone exchanged odd glances, their meaning clear without words.

“Fool!”

“This brute… Is the Sacred Land so short-handed that they sent someone like him?”

Hearing the murmurs from below, the older youth’s face flushed with shame. He leapt up, grabbed Mutoon by the collar, and tossed him down like a chicken. “If you keep making trouble, get back!”

Boom—

Mutoon landed in disgrace. But soon, he charged back onto the stage, eyes red with fury, roaring, “Even if you kill me, I’ll avenge Mus!”

“He’s not Leafwind; he is Garo, my opponent,” the Second Holy Son replied, shrugging helplessly at the bull-like Mutoon.