Julian stood there, petrified. The world around him seemed to freeze as his mind struggled to comprehend the unthinkable. His daughter was gone, her life taken by the hands of a mere kid. He couldn’t form a single thought—shock and disbelief held him captive.

  Hope stood a few paces away, chest heaving as he caught his breath. He told the little one in a calm The little one met his gaze, a deep understanding in its eyes. Without a word, it dropped to the ground and sprinted toward a nearby building, but its gaze never left Hope.

  Hope’s hands hung loosely at his sides, steady despite the blood that had been spilled. There was no regret in his eyes, no hesitation in his posture. The flickering purple light in his gaze pulsed faintly, a testament to the power that had surged through him moments ago. His anger had subsided, leaving behind only cold determination. He had dealt with the root of the disaster, and he knew what was coming next. A fight was inevitable, and he wouldn’t shy away from it.

  Julian’s breath hitched as realization struck him like a hammer, and with it came a surge of pure, unrelenting rage. It consumed him, eclipsing every other emotion, his grief transforming into a violent storm. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from the overwhelming fury coursing through his veins. His face contorted, veins bulging against his temples, his eyes darkening with an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before.

  Without a word, Julian reached for his sword. The motion was deliberate, every second weighted with his intent. When he drew the blade, its sharp edge gleamed menacingly, catching the dim light. Around him, water droplets began to form, hanging in the air like a shimmering veil. They quivered, vibrating as though resonating with the raw power and fury of their master. The atmosphere grew oppressive, the charged air pressing down on everything around them.

  Then Julian moved.

  The ground cracked beneath his feet as he lunged forward, his speed so swift it left little time to react. Each movement was precise, the calculated strike of a veteran honed by years of battle. His sword cut through the air with deadly accuracy, the water droplets trailing behind like blades, amplifying the ferocity of his assault.

  Hope immediately disappeared from his position, his body blurring as he activated his Phantom Steps. The air rippled faintly where he had stood moments ago. Hearing an explosion he turned to glance back at his previous position, his eyes narrowed at the ruined ground, cracks spiderwebbing outward from the force of Julian's strike. The sheer destructive power of the attack sent a cold chill down his spine. For the first time since the fight began, his mind started to sober up, his chaotic thoughts coalescing into coherent sentences.

  ‘This is going to be my hardest fight to date... and I’m shaking.’

  Yet, instead of fear, a spark of excitement flickered in his chest. His lips curled upward ever so slightly at the corner. The faint hum of power surrounded him as his sword intent came to life, an invisible force that seemed to sharpen the air around him. Without hesitation, he charged at Julian, his movements swift and precise.

  Julian’s eyes widened for a split second, his grip tightening on his blade. Seeing Hope wielding sword intent at such a young age sent a shock through him. The boy's raw talent was undeniable. For a brief moment, the question flashed through his mind: ‘How did my daughter disappear?’ But he quickly pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was cutting down the opponent before him.

  The clash of their weapons echoed through the battlefield, a ringing metallic sound that carried the weight of their killing intent. Hope and Julian fought back and forth, their movements a blur of speed and precision. Sparks flew with each strike, Julian’s water intent clashing violently against Hope’s sword intent.

  It didn’t take long for Hope to receive his first injury. Julian’s blade found its mark, slicing through his chest and drawing a thin line of blood. The cut was shallow, but it was enough to make Hope stagger slightly. He grimaced, feeling the sting, but he didn’t stop. If anything, the injury seemed to fuel his focus. His sword intent flared brighter, countering Julian’s water intent with renewed vigor.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Julian pressed forward, his strikes heavy and relentless, but something began to shift. Slowly, Hope was taking the advantage. His movements became smoother, each step calculated, each strike deliberate. His sword seemed to flow like water, adapting to Julian’s attacks with uncanny precision. His body wasted no energy, every movement refined and efficient.

  It dawned on Julian with a mixture of awe and frustration: ‘He’s improving’. Each clash of their blades, each exchange of blows, was like a grindstone sharpening Hope’s skills. The boy was learning, evolving, adapting to the fight in real time.

  And Hope couldn’t have asked for anything better.

  As their swords clashed again, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the air, Hope suddenly let go of his weapon. The move was unexpected, catching Julian off guard for a fraction of a second. It was all Hope needed. Willing his fire intent to coat his first, he drove it forward with all his strength, landing a direct hit to Julian’s chest.

  The explosion of heat was immediate, a searing force that pushed Julian back several steps. Smoke rose from where Hope’s fist had struck, the smell of scorched fabric and burning flesh filling the air. Julian stumbled, his water intent surging instinctively to douse the flames, but his expression twisted in pain and fury.

  Hope stood tall, his breathing steady despite the blood staining his chest. His eyes burned with purple light, the faint flicker of a predator who had tasted blood and was ready for more.

  Julian’s mind reeled, a storm of disbelief and regret churning within him. ‘Two intents?? He’s probably not even sixteen. What kind of monster did my daughter offend?’ The realization hit Julian like a cold wave. This wasn’t a normal opponent—this was a prodigy, a once-in-a-generation talent. And that talent was now directed entirely against him.

  ‘What if... what if she was wrong? Could someone so young and so talented be insane?’ His gaze flicked over the Phoenix Cry Pavilion uniform Hope wore, the emblem stark and vivid even in the chaos of the battlefield. His daughter’s words replayed in his head, and for the first time, doubt crept in. ‘Was her judgment clouded by arrogance? By something I didn’t see?’ Regret began to gnaw at him, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind.

  But there was no turning back now. Julian gripped his sword tighter, the handle slick with sweat. He had mounted a tiger, and the only path forward was to see it through to the bitter end.

  Hope, unaware of the turmoil in Julian’s thoughts, moved with singular focus. Even if he had known, he wouldn’t have cared. His thoughts were his own, and his body thrummed with excitement. The fight was exhilarating in a way nothing else had been. He could feel himself breaking through barriers, making more progress in the heat of battle than in the past week spent training in seclusion. Every clash, every wound, every ounce of pain—it was all worth it.

  As Julian stood momentarily lost in his thoughts, Hope’s sharp gaze caught the opportunity. Without hesitation, he retrieved his sword, gripping it firmly as he felt its familiar weight in his hands. The blade gleamed faintly in the light, an extension of his intent and will.

  In the split second before he dashed toward Julian, Hope’s mind raced. ‘My destruction intent would probably deal way more damage than my fire intent. But it consumes too much stamina. I can’t gamble on it right now.’ He clenched his jaw, his thoughts crystal clear. ‘The gap between our Qi—both in quality and quantity—is too wide. If I want to survive this fight, I need to be efficient.’

  And so Hope pressed on, wielding his sword with precision and utilizing his fire intent to its fullest. His strikes burned with searing heat, carving through the air with a fiery brilliance. Julian, snapping out of his daze, steeled himself for another clash. His water intent surged, the droplets surrounding him shimmering like liquid blades, reflecting the chaos of battle.

  With a sharp breath, Julian infused his water intent into his blade. The sword vibrated with an ominous hum as droplets condensed along its edge, trembling with raw power. In a single motion, Julian slashed outward, sending a barrage of high-velocity droplets hurtling toward Hope. Each droplet tore through the air at supersonic speed, their passage creating an eerie cacophony of sonic booms that reverberated across the battlefield.

  Hope’s instincts screamed danger, his body moving on reflex. He twisted desperately, his sword flashing to intercept the barrage. He managed to protect his vital areas, but the sheer speed and precision of Julian’s attack was overwhelming. The droplets punctured his flesh like countless needles.

  Blood sprayed into the air as holes riddled his body, each one a testament to Julian’s overwhelming power.

  Patreon!