The twin obsidian daggers cut through the pitch-black air of the archive with terrifying speed.Glowing green Seven-Sins Viper Poison coated the curved steel, emitting a faint, corrosive hiss as it neared the skin of Austin’s neck. The assassin’s eyes—cold, empty, and devoid of human warmth behind his black cloth mask—flashed with absolute certainty.He had executed this exact strike seventy-two times. Seventy-two high-tier targets had died before their spiritual seas could register the cold steel.Austin didn't dodge forward. He didn't raise his hands.He didn't even draw a thread of golden dragon Aether to form a protective barrier.Instead, at the exact microsecond the lead dagger reached his jawline, Austin turned his head back with blinding, inhuman precision.CRACK-CLACK!The assassin’s eyes widened in sheer, paralyzing horror.The deadly, venom-dripping obsidian blade didn't pierce skin. It was stopped dead in mid-air—snapped firmly betwee

The narrow, carpeted hallway of the second-class carriage erupted into chaotic terror as the dozen Sun-Eater disciples strutted through the narrow aisle. The young cultivation elite treated the passenger car like their personal domain. They shoved elderly scholars against the wooden bulkheads, kicked over hand-woven travel packs, and sneered at the trembling merchants who shrank back into their seats. "Out of the way, provincial scum!" one of the junior disciples barked, casually sweeping his arm across a small fold-out table and sending a family's tea set crashing to the floor in a shower of porcelain fragments. An elderly merchant in plain gray robes gathered his courage, bowing low with hands clasped. "Young masters, please... we paid full fare at Port Valen. This train belongs to the imperial transit line, not—" SLAP! Senior Disciple Julian didn't even turn his head fully as his backhand struck the old man's cheek. The force of the Aether-infused blow knocked the merchant

The steady hum of the sky-train’s Aether engines vibrated through the wooden floorboards of the private compartment. Princess Amelia remained on her knees before the small wooden table, her royal ice-blue gown resting on the dusty carpet. The tears shimmering in her sapphire eyes were not born of weakness, but of absolute, suffocating despair. Austin sat quietly in his olive-green herbalist robes, his brown-tinted eyes looking down at her with a cool, unreadable gaze. "The Princess of the Sovereign Empire kneeling before a traveling herbalist," Austin said smoothly, his tone calm and even. "If your Sun-Eater disciples saw this, they would draw their broadswords again." Amelia let out a dry, bitter laugh, wiping a tear from her pale cheek as she slowly stood up. "Those disciples are the least of my concerns," Amelia whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she glanced nervously toward the closed compartment door. "They are merely fo

The deep red mist rolling off the giant warrior settled heavily over the floating magnetic rails. The air grew suffocating, thick with the iron tang of spilled blood and the agonizing wails of imprisoned souls trapped within the scythe's ancient runes. Lawrence, the Blood-Scythe of the High Council, took a slow, heavy step forward. The magnetic rails groaned under his massive weight, sparks flying from beneath his iron boots. "You should have stayed inside your little wooden box, herbalist," Lawrence growled, his voice deep and raspy behind his iron skull mask. "A mere Tier-3 worm playing hero before a princess... I will drain your soul to feed my blade!" Behind Austin, Princess Amelia huddled in the train doorway, her hand trembling violently against her chest. "Master Cyril... be careful! That scythe is a high-grade soul-drinking artifact! If it grazes your skin—"

The sky-train crested the final ridge of the Dragon-Spine Mountains, breaking through the dense sea of mountain fog into open sky. Princess Amelia stood near the window, her breath catching as the clouds parted to reveal the full majesty of the Imperial Capital. Beside her, Austin leaned casually against the wooden frame, his brown-tinted eyes taking in the breathtaking expanse before them. Suspended three thousand feet above the green valley floor floated a vast, ringed metropolis carved entirely from gleaming white marble and golden soul-iron. It was five times larger than any lower-realm city Austin had traversed. Huge, ancient Aetherial engines, shaped like burning copper rings, revolved slowly beneath the floating landmass, humming with a deep, rhythmic bass that vibrated through the air for miles. Rivers of liquid light flowed along grand aqueducts connecting the outer floating islets to the central palace citadel, where t