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Chapter 68: Eight High-Grade Mortal Artifacts!
Vzzz… vzzz…Eight spheres of radiant light hovered above the six companions, humming softly, yet vibrating with a raw, astonishing power. Each orb seemed alive, pulsing with energy that could rival even the most seasoned cultivators. The air around them shimmered, as if space itself quivered under their presence.“What… what are these?”Little Baiya’s voice trembled. Awe, confusion—her senses almost buckling under the sheer energy radiating from the spheres.“High-grade mortal artifacts! All eight… high-grade mortal artifacts!”Seraphina Moire’s eyes widened in shock, disbelief flickering across her exquisite features. The Mo sisters, Aelara, Seraphina Vale, and Selene, mirrored the same stunned expressions. None of them had ever imagined that Darian Kaelthorn could summon eight of the most powerful mortal artifacts with just a gesture.Darian’s lips curved into a faint smile as he extended his right hand toward the hovering treasures.“Everyone, choose freely. Pick whichever one call
Chapter 67: Drinking with Faelan Virethorn
Darian Kaelthorn’s sudden movement froze everyone in place.Had he… not heard Faelan Virethorn’s warning? “Anyone who comes within ten meters of me will lose an arm.”Even after seeing Cloudveil falter, Darian stepped forward. Was he testing Faelan’s sword… or daring fate itself?Truth be told, Darian had already left a deep mark on everyone’s minds. Cyran’s slander in Zihuo City, the audacious slap he delivered, defeating Cyran—a wielder of a high-grade mortal artifact—inside the Sunspire Legacy Hall… each feat alone would make someone memorable. Together? Unforgettable.To these young talents, Darian wasn’t some minor, obscure character anymore. He was a powerhouse. Peer-level. A force that demanded attention.Now, carrying a jug of wine and two cups toward Faelan Virethorn, everyone held their breath. Would Faelan even allow it?No one expected he would.As Darian passed the Snake Spirit Lord’s followers, the third, Seraphina Vale, twitched her nose, sensing the black shadow coilin
Chapter 66: A Talk Under the Moon
Darian Kaelthorn eased himself onto the stone bench. His eyes immediately landed on the soft jade-green glow of the wine jug sitting on the table. Four cups, perfectly arranged, gleamed in the moonlight. Each was filled with the same shimmering liquid, waiting quietly.Seraphina Moire’s slender fingers slipped from her sleeve, drawing another cup from her storage ring. She placed it in front of Darian with a faint, knowing smile. The jug itself was stunning—polished jade, flawless body, slender handle, precise spout. Just looking at it, Darian thought, it must be worth a fortune.Clink… clink…As the liquid poured into his cup, a delicate aroma reached him, fresh and clean. Not even the terrace’s flower gardens could compete. The jade-green wine sparkled, crystal-clear, flawless. Darian, who had never really tasted wine before, felt an irresistible pull.He lifted the cup. Took a sip.“Huh?”No burn. None at all. Just smooth sweetness and clarity, gliding down his throat. The scent li
Chapter 65: Sorting Things Out
The last whisper of spiritual power finally faded. Darian Kaelthorn stepped out of his Spirit Space, carefully sliding the gold and silver scrolls of the Sun and Moon Martial Classic into his storage ring. Every muscle in his body ached, limbs heavy with exhaustion, but—somehow—there was a spark of anticipation buzzing through him. Training at the edge of fatigue always brought surprises. He knew that.“Hum…” he murmured, letting his mind settle.His mystic power flowed like water, winding around the Eight Desolate Savage Soul Thorns. Slowly. Methodically. Deep in the Spirit Space, it began to regenerate. Above the void, the pair of Azure Dragon claws quivered faintly, like creatures waking from a long, deep sleep.Eyes closed, Darian let himself sink into cultivation. Weakness, fatigue—it all melted away, replaced by something warm, almost indescribably comforting. He could feel his body syncing with the flow of power; every cell, every sinew, vibrating in harmony. A faint white ligh
Chapter 64: Sun and Moon Martial Classic
Darian Kaelthorn held the two scrolls with trembling fingers, each pulse of his heart echoing through his chest. One contained the Riven Gaesirion Technique, the other the Moon-Lacking Treasure Mirror. He let the words of Aric Sunspire Legacy roll through his mind, each syllable a guiding thread, as he prepared for what would come next.Moon-Lacking Treasure Mirror.A Yellow-Grade Lower Mastery technique. The final gift Aric had left him before departing. One that had turned the tide of his battles against Harvik. During that fight, the techniques Full Moon with a Gap and Shadow Moon with Clear Skies had flowed directly from this mirror, moving through him as naturally as his own breath.Without it… Darian knew he would never have claimed a flawless victory. Even with the Warborn Covenant Method activated, facing Harvik directly would have been a gamble bordering on suicide. The odds were stacked far against him. Yet the Moon-Lacking Treasure Mirror had bridged the chasm. It had turne
Chapter 63: Resting in the Small Towers
Darius stood motionless in the void, hands clasped behind his back, his face a mask of absolute calm. The sharp angles of his jaw, the square planes of his cheeks, betrayed nothing. Only his eyes cut through the silence—cold, piercing, twin needles of judgment—locked on Cyran.The world seemed to hold its breath. Every sound was swallowed by the stillness, and even the faintest exhalation felt intrusive.“Silently… without a sound… he resolved two such immense forces…” The thought whispered in Darian Kaelthorn’s mind, sending a shiver down his spine. “Such cultivation… such mastery… truly formidable.”Cyran bent slightly forward, fists clenched in a respectful salute. His face was a map of age and tension. Wrinkles furrowed as sweat beaded on his brow, glinting like tiny crystals in the distant light. Fear smoldered in his eyes, raw and unrestrained.The weight of Darius’ gaze pressed down on him like a mountain. Cyran felt as if he teetered on the edge of a bottomless abyss, standing
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