Terrence barely blocked, spatial qi fracturing around his arm.
The three clashed again—blades singing, qi roaring, the courtyard becoming a canvas of shattered glyphs and scorched stone.
Then came the turning point.
Jalen raised Luminal Edge high. But this wasn't just a radiant slash.
He activated Thread Fusion—not with movement, but with destruction.
He fused Luminal Edge, the radiant saber known for cleaving domains, with Nuclear, the tenth and most volatile technique of his Spirit Fire Art. The result wasn't elegant. It was unstable. Radiant light surged through the blade, but now it pulsed with compressed flame qi—dense, explosive, and barely contained.
The fused domains reacted instantly. Wind walls rose. Spatial folds thickened. The air itself resisted.
But the blade didn't stop.
For minutes, the battlefield became a tug-of-war between suppression and annihilation. The ground cracked. The sky flickered. Spiritual glyphs shattered under the strain. Then—
Luminal Edge, empowered by Nuclear through Thread Fusion, detonated.
The strike didn't just cleave the domain—it ruptured it. A shockwave of radiant flame tore through the suppression fields, unraveling wind and space alike. Thomas and Terrence staggered, blood erupting from their mouths. Their domains collapsed, the backlash slamming into their cores like a tidal wave.
They weren't finished—but they were wounded.
Jalen didn't hesitate. He powered down Luminal Edge, letting the light fade. Then he reached into his pocket world.
The Supreme Grade Flame Tool pulsed in his grip— Solblade Khopesh: Crown of Embers, a blade forged from living flame. Blue fire coiled around his arm, and the atmosphere ignited. Even cultivators miles away felt the heat ripple through the air.
Jalen surged forward.
Terrence became his target. The weaker link. Thomas moved to defend, wind qi swirling to cover his flank. But Jalen was relentless. He struck with precision, forcing Terrence to teleport repeatedly, each movement more desperate than the last.
Then Jalen saw his opening.
Thomas overextended, trying to shield Terrence—his wind qi spiraling in frantic arcs, desperate to hold the line.
Jalen saw the flaw.
He unleashed Flame Rupture, the Eighth Technique of the Spirit Fire Art—a blast of compressed flame qi designed to pierce defenses and ignite the soul from within. It wasn't just heat—it was judgment.
Blue fire spiraled like a serpent, coiling around Thomas's defenses and biting deep. The courtyard lit up with flame glyphs, each one pulsing with ancient resonance. The blast struck with surgical precision, unraveling spiritual barriers and searing through his wind armor.
Thomas tried to counter with a wind barrier, but the fire devoured it—layer by layer—until his armor cracked and his breath turned to ash. The flames didn't roar. They whispered, like embers remembering the forest they once consumed.
He staggered, coughing blood, the taste of iron and smoke flooding his mouth. His soul flickered behind his eyes—a warning of collapse.
Terrence retaliated instantly.
He teleported behind Jalen and struck—a blade to the ribs. Jalen gasped, blood spraying from his mouth. Terrence followed up, blade raised for the kill.
But he froze.
Jalen's sword was already inside him—from behind.
Terrence looked down, stunned. Flames erupted from the blade, cracking his core and rupturing his insides.
"How?" he whispered.
Jalen didn't answer.
The truth was simple. When Thomas struck earlier, Jalen had used Eclipsed Motion to swap places with a hidden clone—an echo forged through Echo Twin Manifestation during their exchange. The clone had taken the full brunt of the blow.
Jalen still suffered. The delay in switching had left him with internal damage.
But he lived.
Terrence didn't.
His body collapsed, and his soul fled—seeking reincarnation. If he failed to reach his realm again in his next life, he would be gone forever should he get unlucky and got killed again.
Jalen turned to Thomas.
The patriarch's eyes burned with fury and fear. Jalen raised the Solblade Khopesh: Crown of Embers
Thomas blocked the first strike. Then the second. Then the third. Each clash sent flames erupting outward, forcing him back. On the fifth strike, his defense broke.
The flaming blade pierced his chest.
Thomas gasped, blood pouring from the wound. But Jalen didn't stop.
He unleashed Flame Implosion, the Seventh Technique of the Spirit Fire Art—a technique that didn't burn outward, but inward. It compressed flame qi into the target's core, igniting from within and rupturing spiritual threads at their source.
Thomas's body twisted. His soul blaze in agony.
He staggered, blood dripping from his lips, robes torn and scorched. His soul flickered behind his eyes—a sign of impending death.
"I'll give you your father if you don't kill me," he rasped, voice trembling.
Jalen didn't blink.
He struck.
The Solblade Khopesh: Crown of Embers flared, and more flames erupted inward. Thomas screamed as his soul tore free, spiraling into the ether. Like Terrence, he had a second chance at life—but only if fate allowed it.
His body reduced to dust.
Jalen stood in the sky—robes torn, body covered in scars and blood cause by the formidable enemies that he took down, flame still pulsing in his grip. The Solblade Khopesh: Crown of Embers flickered once, then stilled, its judgment fulfilled.
Amid the chaos, Jael remained hidden behind a fractured pillar, eyes wide with awe and terror. He hadn't just witnessed a battle.
He had seen a reckoning.
Jael's small hands trembled against the pillar. He didn't understand every technique, every clash of qi—but he understood power. And loss. And love. His father had fought not for glory, but for something deeper. Something sacred. Jael's eyes shimmered—not just with awe, but with a quiet promise. One day, he would be strong enough to stand beside him.
Jalen had layered Ice Skin across his body, a frost-forged armor that absorbed ambient heat and buffered impact. Around Jael, a qi barrier pulsed gently, shielding him from stray energy and spiritual pressure.
It was the only reason Jael could endure being this close to a battle of such scale.
Jalen turned, his gaze distant, unreadable. The wind carried ash. The temple was silent.
The battle was over.
But the war had only begun.