"You are my disciple. The sole inheritor of the Drunken Peak. And if you have decided to flip the board... if you have decided to march into the kitchen of the World Will and demand a refund on this trashy timeline..."
He reached behind his back, grasping the hilt of a weapon he had not drawn in three hundred years.
With a metallic shing, Jiu Zui drew his sword.
It was not a rusted, chipped blade. It was a masterpiece of flowing, liquid silver steel, humming with the pure, devastating power of a Sovereign who had stopped holding back.
"Then know this," Jiu Zui declared, planting the tip of the sword against the glass floor. "This fight is not yours alone. I don't care if the Heavens audit us. I don't care if the Seers rewrite the stars. I will shatter the astrolabes. I will burn the archives. There is nothing, absolutely nothing in this universe that I will not destroy to ensure you get to walk out of this tower and cook another meal."
