Southern Sea Sun Palace II

I sighed, the weight of Master Li's misunderstanding settling on me like a particularly stubborn cloak. As his dramatic theories danced in his head, I let my azure eyes focus on him, their sharp clarity peeling back the veil of his strength.

And there it was—his level of power, unmistakable now that I truly looked.

He wasn't far from Master Valerie, just a step below her brilliance. Yet, compared to Nero, whose Immortal-rank presence was solid but middling, Master Li stood leagues ahead. High Immortal-rank.

'So this is the might of one of the strongest Immortal-rankers in the world,' I thought, an odd mixture of awe and determination tightening my chest.

Of course, at my current strength, challenging him was laughable. It would remain laughable for years to come.

But that didn't matter.

I had to grow. Not slowly, not cautiously, but at a pace so furious it would consume the world itself. Until then, I would have to make do, threading the needle between my limitations and the challenges before me.

Before I could dwell further, Master Li's demeanor shifted. His eyes widened, his body tense, and without a word, he spun on his heel and strode briskly out of the room. Seraphina and I exchanged a glance—hers calm and questioning, mine curious but wary—before we followed him onto the open deck of the ship.

The wind hit us, carrying with it the salt of the Southern Sea and something else—something cold, metallic, and ominous. My eyes narrowed as I drew mana into them, sharpening my sight to focus on the distant island.

And then I saw it. My breath hitched.

Weapons. Missiles. All aimed directly at us.

"I thought they'd be far behind in technology," Li said, his voice steady but with an edge of surprise. "But it seems they've been busy during their isolation. Modern technology... though not quite modern enough."

His tone carried a faint note of disdain, but I couldn't help but marvel. It wasn't quite up to the standards of this world, perhaps lagging two decades behind, but it was close.

But, of course, it didn't matter.

As if to underscore that very thought, Master Li drew his blade from his spatial ring with a flourish. It was a curved silver sword, its craftsmanship exquisite, the hilt adorned with the plum blossom crest of the Mount Hua sect. The symbol gleamed faintly, as if even it carried a hint of the power it represented.

Without hesitation, the blade came alive. Lightning astral energy coursed along its edge, crackling and dancing like a tempest barely contained. The energy pulsed with the unmistakable rhythm of Sword Heart, a level of mastery few ever reached.

'He won't even need Sword Domain for this,' I thought, watching with quiet awe as he raised the sword.

With a single swing, the lightning surged forward, lashing out like an uncoiled whip. The astral energy tore across the sky, covering the vast distance to the missiles in the blink of an eye. When it reached them, the air seemed to tremble. Defenses crumpled like paper, the missiles reduced to harmless debris in an instant.

'He didn't even need to use his art,' I mused, the corners of my mouth twitching into a small, wry smile. That was the power of one of Mount Hua's finest—its second strongest, no less.

Sure, I could have handled the missile defenses as well. Any Integration-ranker worth their salt could, really. But to dismantle them with nothing more than a casual flick of the wrist? That was a different kind of strength altogether. It wasn't just power; it was mastery.

And Master Li? He wielded it as effortlessly as one breathes.

"Did we really have to attack?" Rachel asked softly, her arms looping around mine as her sapphire eyes sought mine for reassurance.

"They weren't exactly going to roll out the welcome mat," Lucifer said dryly, his gaze fixed ahead. "If we'd waited, they'd have blown the boat to smithereens."

"That's what they've done to anyone daring to approach," Li added, sliding his sword back into his spatial ring with a faint shimmer of light. "Though, I'll admit, I didn't expect missiles."

"It is surprising," Nero agreed, his voice calm but edged with concern. "Let's hope we can avoid escalating things further. Fighting the Southern Sea Sun Palace just to get access would complicate matters."

The boat pushed through the last stretch of surf, and soon, the island loomed before us.

One by one, we disembarked: two hundred students, ten Ascendant-rankers, two Immortal-rankers, and the towering presence of the Martial King himself. The ships, their duty done, turned back toward the mainland. No one wanted them sitting idle here, ripe for destruction.

"Well, there goes our chance for a quick getaway," I muttered, mostly to myself.

"Why would we need that?" Cecilia asked, tilting her head as crimson eyes settled on Magnus Draykar's broad back. Her tone was calm, curious, even faintly amused.

She had a point—at least from her perspective. To most here, the Southern Sea Sun Palace posed little threat. The vampires, after all, had been eradicated nearly two centuries ago by Liam Kagu. And Magnus Draykar, the most powerful figure in the world, was with us. What could go wrong under his watchful gaze?

The thought was almost comforting—if you didn't know what I knew.

But I did.

They didn't.

To everyone else, the idea of encountering a Radiant-ranker here was unthinkable. Even the presence of multiple Immortal-rankers was a stretch. Yet I knew the truth. The Red Chalice Cult had a way of rewriting expectations. If they were involved—and I couldn't shake the certainty that they were—then we were staring down far more than the Southern Sea Sun Palace's defenses.

A Radiant-ranker. Their Cult Leader. And an untold number of Immortal-rankers.

I shoved my worries aside as the group came to an abrupt halt. The professors and adults at the front stopped walking, their postures still but tense. The students followed suit, confusion flickering through the crowd like whispers of an oncoming storm.

Then I felt it.

A presence. Heavy and unrelenting, like the weight of a storm cloud pressing down on my skin. I wasn't the only one who noticed; the other students stiffened as the oppressive aura swept over us.

"So, they've come," Magnus Draykar said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of amusement as he gazed ahead. A faint smile curled at his lips, as if he relished the challenge.

And then they appeared.

The figures moved with purpose, emerging from the treeline with a grace that was almost predatory. Their clothing was an elegant fusion of eastern tradition and modern practicality, tailored for both mobility and breathability. But what drew the eye most was the symbol emblazoned on their garments: the red sun, glowing faintly against the fabric.

The insignia of the Southern Sea Sun Palace.

These were its people, and they had not come alone. 

At the front of the procession stood the Lord of the Palace. His fiery red hair and burning crimson eyes mirrored Ian's, though his aura lacked the flashiness of youth. Instead, it radiated raw ferocity, like a blade honed to a perfect edge. His power wasn't merely seen—it was felt, like a searing heat against the skin.

Low Immortal-rank.

He wasn't Nero. He wasn't Master Li. But that didn't mean he wasn't a monster.

Behind him stood two dozen Ascendant-rankers, their presence like an unyielding tide. And behind them? An army of Integration-rankers, their number enough to fill the horizon. 

The students around me faltered, the oppressive pressure of their power threatening to crush the air from our lungs. It was palpable, inescapable—a silent statement of dominance.

And yet, even in the face of such overwhelming might, Magnus Draykar smiled. 

Suddenly, the suffocating aura was gone. It didn't fade or waver—it vanished, snuffed out as if it had never been there. My eyes widened in disbelief as I glanced at the Martial King. His back, broad and steady, seemed impossibly larger now, a quiet wall against the looming storm.

He hadn't said a word.

He didn't need to. 

His presence alone was enough to remind the world who truly held power here.

My gaze swept over the crowd before us, searching for faces I might recognize. But there was nothing—no familiarity, no spark of recognition. All of them were strangers, their stories erased before they could reach the pages of the novel. These were the people who should have been long dead.

That alone set my nerves on edge. 

But then my eyes settled on the two figures closest to the Lord of the Palace, and my heart nearly stopped. 

I stumbled back, my breath hitching in my throat as a cold sweat broke across my skin. 

Why? 

Why in all the hells was he here?