Sword Intent Beneath the Crimson Sky
Freddy Lavahound’s smile turned sharp the mont he noticed Harry Taylor ignoring him.
For a split second, sothing ugly flickered across his face — a crack in the polished arrogance he wore like a crown.
Instant displeasure flickered across his face.
"What’s this?" Freddy drawled, voice dripping with mockery. "Who dares make our Young Master Taylor look so pale? Tell who it is. I’ll help you vent your anger..."
He stepped closer as he spoke, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. The tone was playful, lazy even — but his eyes were sharp, asuring. Hunting.
His tone was playful — but his eyes were probing.
Harry shot him a sideways glance filled with contempt.
"Tsk."
The sound was quiet, but it carried enough disdain to slice.
"Don’t act concerned," Harry muttered. "You’re enjoying this."
Freddy chuckled under his breath. "Enjoying what? Watching you look like you’ve seen a ghost?" He leaned slightly closer. "Or is it sothing worse?"
Harry’s jaw tightened. His fingers twitched at his side — a reflex he quickly suppressed.
"I said drop it."
"Oh?" Freddy’s brow lifted. "Now I’m curious."
He was about to retort when—
Two figures in white descended slowly from the side, robes stirring lightly in the heated wind. They landed at the sa level as them.
The air shifted.
Not violently. Not loudly.
But everyone felt it.
The fabric of their robes fluttered with an eerie grace, untouched by the chaos of the surroundings. Their presence pressed down subtly, like a weight settling over the crowd.
Harry glanced back casually.
Then his pupils shrank.
"What the... him again."
His voice dropped, almost swallowed by the wind.
A chill crept up his spine.
The mory surfaced uninvited — that oppressive aura, that suffocating pressure, the feeling of standing before sothing vast and rciless.
Freddy noticed the shift instantly.
"Who?" he asked quietly, the teasing edge gone now.
Harry didn’t answer right away.
His gaze was locked forward.
Beside Elder White, Elder Black leaned in slightly and explained in a hushed voice.
"It’s him," Elder Black murmured, eyes steady. "The one from before. The swordsman."
Elder White’s expression subtly changed. He turned and examined Leon carefully, attempting to gauge his depth.
From afar, Leon looked unremarkable — calm posture, steady breathing, no visible surge of energy. Just a man standing quietly.
Too quietly.
Elder White narrowed his eyes.
"Strange," he muttered. "I can’t see through him."
"Be cautious," Elder Black warned softly.
The mont his perception brushed Leon’s aura—
It happened.
Not a clash.
Not resistance.
A silent blade flashed across his consciousness.
Invisible.
Intangible.
Yet razor sharp.
There was no light. No sound. Only the pure sensation of sothing cold and absolute passing through the edges of his awareness.
Elder White’s soul trembled violently, nearly sliced by an unseen sword intent.
It wasn’t an attack.
It was a warning.
A boundary.
A single breath more, and he would have stepped across it.
"Hiss..."
His breath hitched.
The color drained faintly from his face, and he took half a step back before catching himself. Elder Black’s eyes sharpened instantly.
"What did you see?" Elder Black asked quietly.
Elder White swallowed once, steadying his racing heart.
"What astonishing sword intent... This man’s mastery of the Sword has reached such a realm..."
At his level, one who stepped into the King Realm had already touched the threshold of Sword Soul. The body itself could beco a blade.
Yet Leon—
He stood there calmly.
No aura fluctuations.
No visible pressure.
And yet the air around him was filled with dormant killing intent — like a sheathed divine sword that would strike back the mont one dared offend it.
The most terrifying part?
The sword energy activated on its own.
Without thought.
Without movent.
Elder White felt a bead of cold sweat slide down his temple.
This man... was far more dangerous than he had imagined.
Leon paid them no attention.
His gaze fell upon the towering beast below.
Flas spiraled around its massive body. Every breath it exhaled ignited the air itself.
"Ancient Descendant... Inferno Kong," Leon murmured.
Within the True Pri Mantra, detailed records described such bloodline beasts.
Ancient bloodlines were not rely about strength. They carried inherited fragnts of ancient will — instinctual Sacred Arts etched into bone and blood.
Inferno Kong’s muscles rippled like molten stone. Crimson fire patterns burned across its fur. Its roar shook the sky, and the ground fractured beneath its fists.
But sothing was wrong.
Its eyes were wild.
Corrupted.
Leon narrowed his eyes.
"It has lost rationality... Sothing has eroded its mind. It has fallen into demonic madness."
This was no natural hunt.
It was slaughter.
"Young Master Taylor... where are you going?"
A familiar voice cut through the tension.
Leon turned slightly, amused.
Ten ters to the side, two elders and a handso young man were attempting to slip away discreetly.
Harry Taylor.
The mont their eyes t—
Harry’s face turned the color of ash.
"Damn it..." he cursed inwardly. Am I tied to this guy by fate?
Freddy’s mocking presence behind him only made matters worse.
Escape was impossible.
Harry forced a smile so stiff it looked painful.
"Hehe... Senior. What a coincidence. We et again."
Leon’s lips curved faintly.
"Oh? Isn’t this the filial Young Master Taylor?" he said lazily. "What a coincidence indeed. Why are you leaving the mont you see ? Do I look frightening?"
Harry’s scalp prickled.
"Of course not! Senior is handso, elegant, extraordinary in bearing. Even at my peak I wouldn’t dare offend you. Countless beauties must already admire you. How could you be frightening?"
The flattery flowed shalessly.
Dignity?
What was dignity compared to survival?
Leon’s eyes held amusent, but his posture remained composed — calm and dignified, which only made Harry more uneasy.
Can Elder White defeat him?
Why do I et this monster everywhere?
His luck truly was cursed.
"Tsk tsk..."
A strange, mocking sound rose again.
Harry’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t need to look.
Freddy Lavahound.
Freddy stepped forward, folding his arms.
"I say, Young Master Taylor," he said with a crooked smile, "since when did you beco so obedient?"
Harry’s fingers curled tightly inside his sleeves.
The humiliation burned hotter than the flas below.
But he endured.
A little impatience spoils great plans.
Endure.
He refused to glance back.
Above them—
Inferno Kong let out another earth-shattering roar.
The sky cracked with fla.
The real battle was about to begin.
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