"Kai Ava," the general said, his voice carrying the weight of iron discipline. "You have returned."
Kai bowed deeply. "Father."
"Rise."
When he straightened, Kai noticed on both sides of the hall sat many unfamiliar figures. There were the envoys of various clans from across the capital and the empire at large and beyond. "These are the envoys who've come to offer you invitations," General Kilian said, his tone formal. "Your name now carries beyond the borders of our Empire. It seems every sect and clan wishes to claim the young commander for themselves."
One of the envoys stood—a tall woman in violet silk whose eyes gleamed like amethyst. "Kai Ava," she began, her voice like music, "the Violet Mirage Sect extends its hand. We have nurtured countless prodigies into saints. Your talent would not only flourish, it would define an era. Accept our token, and you will inherit a personal peak upon entry."
Another envoy chuckled, his robe embroidered with a black tiger. "Empty promises. The Ironclaw Hall needs no flowery words. Join us, and we will forge you into a commander of our elite Spirit Legion. We train warriors, not dreamers."
The atmosphere tightened. Spiritual energy stirred faintly in the air.
An old man from the Eastern Sky Pavilion leaned forward, stroking his silver beard. "Why quarrel over one youth? He will choose the heavens he seeks himself. The Pavilion offers him a position as Heir Disciple under the Pavilion Lord. Few in this hall can comprehend the weight of such a gift."
Whispers rippled through the Ava clansmen.
Kai stood silently through it all, his gaze never straying toward arrogance nor fear. Instead, his eyes flickered briefly toward his father, who watched him with both pride and calculation.
At last, Kai clasped his hands and said evenly, "I am honored by the regard of such esteemed powers. But I am of the Ava bloodline, and I will not make my choice without first seeking my family's will."
A murmur of approval spread among the elders, and even a few envoys smiled faintly at his composure.
General Kilian nodded slowly. "Then let it be so. Tonight, we feast in honor of the offers made. Tomorrow, you will give your answer—and your path shall begin."
Kai bowed again, though in his heart he already knew: none of these envoys truly sought to guide him—they sought to bind him.
And he had no intention of wearing another's chain.
The clamor of laughter and clinking cups came to an abrupt halt as the announcer's voice thundered through the grand hall.
"Master Lucas Mars is here!"
At once, the room fell silent. Every cultivator, servant, and guest—envoy or noble alike—rose from their seats. The atmosphere thickened, reverence sweeping through the air like an invisible wind.
Then, from beyond the great doors, he entered.
Lucas Mars, the Iron Sovereign of the Terra Empire—one of the Three Warlords. His very presence seemed to press against the soul, an aura so profound it silenced breath. He wore a simple robe of black and crimson, yet it was the way he carried himself that marked him apart: neither prideful nor humble, but as if he stood above the mortal and immortal divide alike.
Behind him, the sound of firm footsteps echoed again.
"Master Lin Nan, Lord of the Lotus Tower, has arrived!"
The crowd straightened once more. Lin Nan's robes shimmered with pale gold and emerald light, patterns of lotus petals shifting across the fabric as if alive. His expression was gentle, but those with keen senses could feel the tranquil might hidden beneath that calm exterior—like a lake so still it mirrored the heavens, yet deep enough to drown gods.
And before the hall could recover from the awe of two warlords entering, the announcer's trembling voice rang out again:
"Master Man has arrived!"
A hush colder than ice fell.
Master Man, the third Warlord—unaffiliated, unbound. A man said to walk between chaos and destiny itself. He wore no formal colors, only a long travel cloak, his hair loosely tied, his eyes gleaming with unrestrained vitality. His laughter came before him, light yet thunderous, the kind of sound that made one question whether they should kneel or draw their blade.
Together, the Three Warlords of the Terra Empire stood within the Ava Family's hall.
General Kilian Ava immediately rose, fists clasped, his sons and every clan member bowing low. "The Ava Family greets the Three Pillars of the Empire!"
Lucas Mars raised a hand, his voice deep yet unhurried. "At ease. We've come not to cause tension, but to see the one who stirred the heavens with his blade." His eyes—sharp as tempered steel—settled on Kai. "The Marquis of Swords."
A murmur swept the hall. Even the envoys, who moments ago boasted of their sects and clans, bowed in silence.
Lin Nan smiled faintly, folding his hands behind his back. "So young… yet already wielding tribulation force. The Empire's future may not be so bleak after all."
Master Man chuckled, stepping forward. "Or so dangerous." His gaze lingered on Kai, a strange glint of curiosity in his eyes. "The last time I saw a youth with that kind of power, he became Emperor."
The air grew taut once more, and all eyes turned to Kai—who stood unmoving, his expression calm, but his heart pounding like a war drum.
The night of celebration had just turned into a council of giants.
As the night deepened, tension began to ripple beneath the surface of the grand banquet. The arrival of the Warlords had stirred the pride of many powerful guests, especially the young disciples and heirs from the great clans who had gathered to witness the Ava Family's resurgence. Cups clinked less, eyes sharpened more. It wasn't long before a voice rose from among the crowd—calm yet edged with challenge.
"Marquis of Swords," said a youth in embroidered silver robes, his aura blazing faintly with the pressure of the Bodiless Realm, "your feats are legendary, but surely the stories have grown taller in a week. Would you honor me with a friendly exchange?"
The hall fell silent. Then another disciple—this one from the Iron Moon Sect—stepped forward, cupping his hands with a thin smile. "Indeed, Marquis, we would all like to witness the measure of your strength for ourselves. The empire's newest prodigy should not shy away from a little test."
Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd. The Warlords watched quietly from their seats, unreadable, while General Kilian's brow furrowed. Yet before anyone could speak, Kai rose.
His calm gaze swept across the gathered challengers, unbothered, almost indifferent. "If it is the measure of my sword you wish to see," he said, his voice steady but carrying through the hall like a low roll of thunder, "then I shall not deny you."
A faint tremor ran through the air as he took his stance. His spiritual energy coiled and surged—calm at first, then sharp enough to draw blood from those standing too close.
The first challenger stepped forward. Then the second. One after another, the disciples of the Bodiless Realm came forth—each eager to test their might, each soon to learn the vast difference between cultivation attained, and cultivation tempered by tribulation.
The night of celebration was about to turn into a spectacle of dominance. Especially against one named Remi.
The clash between Kai and Remi drew the attention of the entire hall. Even the three Warlords lifted their heads from their cups. Remi, known across the younger generation as the Sharpest Sword, was not just a titleholder—it was a legacy. His swordsmanship was refined, honed through decades of training under the greatest instructors of the central continent. His blade gleamed with an almost divine sharpness, said to be able to cut through spirit formations themselves. As he faced Kai, his confidence was absolute. "Let us see," he said coldly, "if the so-called Marquis of Swords is worthy of such praise."
The battle began with a sudden flash—Remi's sword aura lancing through the air like silver lightning, each stroke backed by years of experience and killing intent. Kai met him head-on, his movements simple, precise, and devastatingly calm. Every clash rang like thunder, shaking the foundation of the hall. But what truly startled the onlookers wasn't the exchange of sword light—it was the rhythm. Kai's movements grew smoother, his intent sharper, his calm unbroken, while Remi's strikes began to falter. A faint light flickered within Kai's blade—a glimpse of Sword Truth beyond ordinary comprehension. For the first time, Remi felt something alien grip his heart: fear of being surpassed.
That fear twisted into something darker. His pride, his years of recognition as the Sharpest Sword, all began to crack. "No," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with fury. "I will not be forgotten." Without hesitation, he bit into his thumb and drew a sigil in the air with his blood. A crimson formation flared to life around the platform, sealing it off completely from the outside world. Gasps filled the hall as the glow enveloped the two combatants. Inside, Remi's aura grew wild and unstable, his blood seeping into his sword as his killing intent warped his qi. "If I must fall," he snarled, "then I'll take you with me!" His sword intent, corrupted by blood and rage, began to devour itself, and in moments his veins turned black. A horrific roar escaped his lips as his body distorted—flesh hardening, bones cracking, his qi force mutating violently. Before anyone could intervene, Remi Titanized, his human form collapsing into a monstrous figure radiating corrupted spiritual energy.
Within the crimson seal, Kai steadied his breath, his sword held low but unwavering. The pressure was suffocating—Remi's Titanized form had long lost reason, its body a mass of pulsing muscle and fragmented qi that screamed through the air like tearing metal. The hall outside roared with muffled panic, but Kai could hear nothing beyond the beast's distorted growls. "You've gone too far," he said quietly, eyes glowing faintly with the hue of his Sword Heart. No one else could step in; the formation blocked even divine sense. This battle was his alone. He inhaled deeply, centering himself as Sword Intent surged to its peak—sharp enough to split heaven's will. The very air around him trembled, each breath humming with the resonance of a thousand invisible blades.
The pressure swelled to a breaking point. Kai's aura exploded outward, forming the illusion of countless swords circling his body like a divine storm. His qi intertwined with the faint flicker of tribulation lightning within his veins—a power few could comprehend, one that merged the path of the sword and the heavens themselves. The ground beneath him split open, spiderweb cracks racing through the platform as if trying to flee from the force being born upon it. Above, unseen to those within, the heavens began to stir in answer. The storm clouds rolled in from beyond the capital, their rumble a whisper of celestial recognition. A thin line of silver light split the sky—a sword formed of thunder and divine qi, drawn from the realm between realms.
It came down with a sound like divine judgment. The blade of light pierced through the crimson formation, shattering it in an instant and dispelling the corruption that plagued Remi's body. The blood mist burned away into pure energy, scattering harmlessly into the air as the monstrous form collapsed. The moment the sword struck, Remi's power dissipated, his cultivation shattered from within, leaving him broken but alive. When the smoke cleared, the hall fell silent. The once-renowned Sharpest Sword lay unconscious at Kai's feet, his spirit and dantian in ruins. Whispers rippled through the stunned crowd—shock, awe, and fear. Then, the silence was broken by a furious roar—Remi's master, his killing intent exploding through the hall as his disciple's limp body was lifted by attendants. His fury burned so fierce that even the noble elders lowered their gazes, afraid to speak.