An Understated Dominance (Dustin Rhys) Chapter 2661 TO 2670 ENGLISH VERSION

English version  

2660-2663

Two blinding rays of light—like twin miniature suns—detonated over the lakeside. Heaven and earth tipped out of balance; even the rushing wind froze still.

The handsome man’s whole body shuddered. A line of glaring crimson slid from his left nostril, staining his robe with a stark blood spot.

He lifted a trembling hand, slender fingers brushing his nose. Seeing the blood on his fingertips, his normally icy eyes flared with rage.

He had never endured humiliation like this. Not only had his mental assault failed, it had left him wounded instead.

“You’re looking for death!”

His roar cracked like thunder. The light around him flared severalfold.

The clear sky darkened at once. Black clouds boiled overhead, and purple electric snakes slithered through them with a sharp, sizzling hiss.

He thrust one palm toward the heavens. The remaining spiritual power in his body roared up, resonating with the thunder above. Lightning as thick as bowls cascaded from the clouds, converging in his hand like rivers returning to the sea.

Amid that raging thunder, a spear of pure lightning took shape.

It stretched three meters, the tip as sharp as a blade, flashing with destructive cold light. Dense runes crawled along the shaft, each one alive in the lightning, exuding suffocating pressure.

The air warped and scorched. The lake boiled, mist rising in sheets. Ground cracked like spiderwebs from where he stood, and gravel floated weightless under the pull of thunder.

“This… this is the power of heaven’s thunder!” someone in the distance gasped, faces paling.

When the spear finished condensing, the handsome man’s arm corded with veins. He hurled it at Logan like a thunder god’s wrath.

As it tore across the sky, a dark seam ripped the air. Mist along its path burned away, and miniature bolts burst outward, pocking the earth with smoking craters. Even space itself rippled as if ready to collapse.

Facing this cataclysm, Logan did not retreat. Battle-fire lit his eyes.

He rose in a single motion. His long sword hummed; green sword-energy erupted like a volcano, shattering the stone table’s remains into dust.

“Come on!” Logan shouted. Both hands locked on the hilt, he poured every thread of true energy into the blade.

The cloud-patterns on the sword flared, coalescing into a hovering green dragon whose roar shook the sky.

“Blue Dragon Breaks!”

Logan twisted his wrist. The long sword and its dragon avatar lunged toward the lightning spear.

The blade cut so fast it left only afterimages. The dragon’s jaws gaped wide, fangs bared to clash with thunder.

When they met, time seemed to stop.

A silent shockwave spread first. Tents by the lake flattened in an instant. Trees hundreds of feet tall snapped like brittle sticks, debris whirling skyward.

Then the boom arrived, deafening. Green sword-energy and purple thunder writhed together, forming a massive orb of destruction where they collided. Lightning flashed inside the orb like caged stars.

The onlookers clutched their ears, yet their eardrums still burned with pain. They stared as the orb swelled and warped the air so badly even sunlight bent away.

Just before it could burst, Logan’s eyes narrowed. He poured out a final surge of power. The dragon swelled, slamming headlong into the spear’s tip.

A sharp crack split the sky. The runes on the lightning spear shattered one by one. Purple thunder dimmed.

The handsome man’s face blanched. He tried to pull the spear back—but sword-energy raced up its length, numbing his arm.

Before he could recover, Logan used the recoil to hurl himself forward, a stream of green light rushing down the spear’s body.

The hiss of his blade slicing air stabbed into eardrums. Sword-energy wrapped him like a cone, piercing what thunder remained.

“No—!”

The handsome man’s pupils shrank. Terror replaced arrogance.

He tried to dodge but found himself locked inside Logan’s sword-field, limbs frozen.

All he could do was watch the incoming strike.

With a single, unerring thrust, Logan’s sword punched through his chest and burst out his back.

Green sword-energy surged from the blade into his body, tearing apart meridians and shattering his spiritual core.

Stiffly the handsome man looked down at the wound. Blood poured over his dark-blue robe.

Rage and pride drained from his eyes, replaced only by fear.

He opened his mouth to speak but managed only a hoarse hiss of escaping air.

His body shook violently. Light flickered under his skin as though something within was about to detonate.

Bang—!

He exploded.

Blood, flesh, and bone fragments splattered across the lakeside, staining the grass and water red.

The hovering light vanished. The air reeked of blood and faint spiritual energy.

Deprived of its core, the orb of energy burst apart. Countless lights scattered like falling meteors, fading quickly into nothing.

Silence fell over the lakeside. Only wind through leaves and the soft sound of water remained.

Logan slowly lowered his sword. Blood dripped from the tip, pooling at his feet.

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“Call…”

Logan exhaled a long, steadying breath. It was finally over.

This had been his first time facing an opponent of equal realm—an opponent whose strength had forced him to fight at his limit.

And inside that man’s body… there had been something else. Not true energy, not the usual flow of a master’s power, but some strange and alien force he could not name.

But whatever it was, the threat was gone.

Footsteps rustled through the forest.

Grace and the others emerged from the treeline, moving cautiously. When their eyes swept over the scorched earth and blood-red lake, fear flickered openly across their faces.

That clash of thunder and sword-energy had felt, even from afar, like an invisible hand squeezing their hearts.

Up close the ground still smoked, the lake stank of iron, and the air itself carried the aftermath of slaughter.

Grace quickened her pace to Logan’s side. Her voice trembled as she stared at the bloody fragments scattered across the grass.

“Who… who was that man? He could summon heaven’s thunder and wield such terrifying strength.”

She remembered the egret dissolving into a mist of blood and shivered. Without Logan they would already be corpses.

Logan sheathed his sword with a faint click, brows knitting.

“I don’t know exactly who he was. But from his words—and the power he displayed—he was probably the guardian of Fairyharbor Island.”

“Guardian of Fairyharbor Island…” Grace repeated softly, her expression hardening.

This island was far deadlier than any of them had imagined.

They’d already survived a patch of seemingly harmless pink-white petals on the western mudflats whose sweet fragrance had frozen two guards stiff in seconds; only antidote pills had saved their lives.

And last night, the “children’s laughter” from the woods had turned out to be nothing but crying-soul grass mimicking human voices—plants that trapped minds in illusions. Even she had nearly succumbed.

If not for Logan’s vigilance, they would all be dead.

“Fairyharbor Island is unpredictable,” Grace murmured. “We must be far more careful from here on.”

Logan nodded. “This place has just felt a war. The spiritual fluctuations will draw other predators. We can’t stay here. We need to move and find a hidden spot to camp.”

“Mr. Rhys, you’re absolutely right.”

Grace snapped into action, ordering the guards to pack the remaining supplies.

Logan’s gaze drifted northeast. With his divine sense he could feel the faint signatures of Tristan and his group.

Part of why he’d intervened was the surge of power—but part of it was recognition. He had tricked those three out of a fortune before. Seeing them in danger had stirred a flicker of guilt.

Yet he had badly underestimated the handsome man’s strength.

If he had to choose again, he might not meddle.

Within moments Grace and her team had packed and left the lakeside, disappearing into the deepening dusk.

Silence crept back over the shore. The evening breeze stirred a few blood-stained leaves and dropped them beside the scattered remains of the handsome man.

And then—something moved.

Flesh and bone fragments on the ground and floating on the lake began to slide together as though tugged by invisible strings.

First scraps of meat fused. Then bones clicked into place. Even fragments drifting on the lake rode the current to shore and merged with the forming shape.

Moonlight slanted through the treetops, silvering the grotesque rebirth.

Skin sheathed skeleton, organs reformed, tatters of a white robe threaded themselves into a whole garment.

Within half an incense stick’s time, the man Logan had cut through and exploded stood once more on the grass.

But now his face was paper-white, his aura thin and faltering.

The secret method had saved his life but drained nearly all energy and spirit. Ten days at least before he would recover.

And to him, that weakness was humiliation.

“Just wait,” he hissed between clenched teeth, eyes fixed on the distant direction where Logan’s group had gone. “Today’s shame will be tomorrow’s vengeance.”

He rested a moment, murderous intent flashing in his gaze. Then his figure blurred into white light and vanished into the forest’s depths.

2662

The handsome man, Emmitt Cantin, endured the crushing weakness of his rebuilt body, turned into a dim ray of light, and sped toward a hidden valley in the southeast.

Under the moonlight his figure was no longer graceful. Instead he looked flustered, robes ragged, like a shadow of his former self.

He slipped through layers of primeval jungle choked with strange fog and crossed swamps where unseen things stirred beneath the water. At last he reached his destination.

Dense vines and jagged stalagmites sealed the valley’s entrance. Anyone unfamiliar with the path would never find it.

Emmitt raised a trembling hand, murmuring an obscure incantation. A spark of light flickered at his fingertip and leapt into the air.

Ripples spread outward. The vines and stalagmites twisted like phantoms and vanished, revealing a narrow cave mouth barely wide enough for one person.

Inside, the stone walls were inlaid with odd gems that glowed softly, lighting the downward path.

He followed it deeper and deeper into the mountain. After an incense stick’s time the passage opened wide.

A vast underground chamber lay before him. At its heart stood a complex teleportation array carved from a single slab of jade, its ancient patterns pulsing with hazy light.

Emmitt staggered onto the array and poured what little spiritual power remained into its center.

A low hum. A flash of light. His body vanished.

A heartbeat of distortion later, he emerged in another world entirely.

Here was the heart of Fairyharbor Island—a paradise cut off by a power no outsider could breach.

The sky arched pure blue overhead, clouds drifting lazily. Warm sun spilled over emerald grass, singing springs, and exotic flowers. Rare beasts wandered the meadows; the air itself was rich with aura, every breath sharpening the senses.

At the center of this paradise rose a palace of breathtaking splendor. Warm jade and golden crystal shaped its flying eaves and carved beams, the whole structure glowing with a soft immortal luster. Fairy music drifted faintly from within.

Emmitt straightened his tattered energy robe, hiding his pallor. Drawing a deep breath, he walked toward the gates.

Two jade puppets in armor stood guard. Their eyes glimmered red as he approached, bodies shifting as if to block his way.

He passed through the magnificent front hall and was met by a wave of noise—laughter, music, the heavy scent of wine.

The scene jarred against the fairyland outside.

The hall’s floor was paved with spiritual jade and dotted with night-pearls and coral trees. At its center sprawled a “Wine Pool and Meat Forest”: a pool of amber-hued immortal wine whose aroma filled the air, and beside it trees sprouting slices of spirit-beast meat in place of fruit.

Dozens of beautiful men and women in gauzy garments frolicked in the wine, lounging at its edge, nibbling at the “meat forest,” drowning themselves in pleasure.

And at the hall’s center, four figures stood apart.

Their space seemed separate, untouchable. Even amid the revelry, no one dared come too close.

One was massive—nearly ten feet tall—with a resolute, handsome face and eyes like blades. He reclined lazily on a jade chair, dark battle robe etched in gold, muscles coiled with explosive power. Several stunning women clustered at his side, feeding him a scarlet spirit orb.

To his left sat a man in a pink-purple robe. Feminine and striking, slender fingers plucked a jade zither, the melody curling through the air with a cynical smile playing at his lips.

Nearby lounged a man in a green Daoist robe, chest bare to reveal corded muscle. Handsome, unruly, he toyed with a wine cup, eyes sharp enough to pierce hearts.

At the tall man’s feet reclined a woman in a light-blue smoke-silk dress. She was stunning, her every glance and smile brimming with charm, yet in her eyes lurked a hidden edge.

Their beauty was flawless; their auras deep as oceans—far beyond any common warrior, more like figures from legend.

As the pale, gray-templed Emmitt entered, the noise in the hall dipped. Pleasure-seekers glanced at him with curiosity or wariness.

The four at the center also looked up.

The zither player stilled his fingers and chuckled, voice lilting with mockery.

“Hey… isn’t this our esteemed ‘gatekeeper,’ Lord Cantin? How did you end up like this? Went for a stroll and tripped?”

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The man in the green Daoist robe sneered.

“Looking at him, I’d say even his core has been damaged. How strange… on Fairyharbor Island, besides us, who else could wound Brother Emmitt like this?”

The beautiful woman only covered her mouth and laughed softly, eyes flicking with unspoken thoughts.

Only the burly man stayed silent. Slowly he straightened, pushing the women at his side away. His eyes blazed like cold lightning as he fixed them on Emmitt. His voice was low and heavy with oppression.

“What happened?”

Under the weight of those four gazes—especially the burly man’s—Emmitt’s body trembled.

He swallowed his humiliation, stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and lowered his head. In a hoarse voice he recounted everything:

Being awakened by Tristan’s group, casually killing mortals, then being stopped by Logan; losing the contest of mental power; finally struck down by thunder and forced to use the secret life-saving method to rebuild his body.

As he spoke, the sneers faded from the faces of the zither-playing man and the Daoist-robed man. Even the beautiful woman’s smile dimmed, a glimmer of surprise in her eyes. They had not expected someone so troublesome to appear from outside the island.

When Emmitt finished, the tall man slammed his palm onto the jade armrest.

Boom!

The entire hall shuddered. Ripples shivered across the wine pool; the revelers froze in terror and silence.

“Waste!” the tall man roared, his voice like thunder. “You couldn’t even handle an outsider and nearly got yourself destroyed! You’ve disgraced us!”

He kicked into the empty air.

An invisible force struck Emmitt square in the chest.

“Pffft!”

Already weak, he couldn’t resist. He shot backward like a broken kite, slammed into a thick jade pillar, spat blood, and slid to the floor, wretched and coughing.

Pain lanced his chest, but worse was the humiliation. Resentment flickered in his eyes, but he dared not show it. He struggled back to his knees, head bowed even lower.

The man before him was someone he couldn’t defeat even at full strength—let alone now.

“Brother, calm down,” the feminine man murmured. “From what Emmitt described, that person does have skill—seems to be our equal.”

The Daoist-robed man mused aloud.

“To beat Emmitt at his peak… that’s no small feat. Looks like a big fish has slipped into this ‘blood food.’”

The tall man glanced coldly at Emmitt. The anger in his eyes cooled to something deeper. After a moment’s silence he snapped his fingers.

A beam of golden light shot toward Emmitt.

Emmitt caught it reflexively. In his palm lay a golden pill the size of a longan, round and radiant with vital energy. Faint dragon patterns coiled on its surface.

“This is the Dragon Blood Regeneration Pill,” the tall man said flatly. “It will restore seventy or eighty percent of your strength. Take it. Go. Find that man and the ants who disturbed our peace, and erase them.”

He paused, tone turning glacial.

“If you fail again… don’t come back. Disappear on your own.”

Warmth from the pill seeped into Emmitt’s hand, carrying enormous power. Relief at surviving mixed with hunger for strength—and a black, boiling hatred for Logan, Tristan, and the others.

He kowtowed, voice hoarse but resolute.

“Yes, Big Brother! I will fulfill the mission! I will bring you that man’s head!”

Without daring to linger, he rose with difficulty, lowered his head, and hurried out of the hall.

As his figure vanished, the beautiful woman spoke softly, her voice a silken caress.

“Brother, why waste a Dragon Blood Pill? Let me go. Perhaps I can do it with half the effort.”

The tall man leaned back in his recliner, eyes closed as though the scene had been nothing but a trivial interlude.

“Although Emmitt is useless, he knows the opponent’s methods. One pill is worth the chance to gauge his true strength. If he fails again…” He gave a cold, short laugh. “Then we’ll catch this fish ourselves. For now, keep the music playing.”

Decadent music swelled once more. Wine and laughter resumed, as though nothing had happened—save for the faint trace of blood drifting into the rich aroma of wine and meat.

 English version 

2664-2668

After leaving the devastated lakeside, Logan, Grace, and the rest of the group moved even more cautiously, threading their way through the dense and treacherous jungle.

Fairyharbor Island’s strangeness defied imagination. Seemingly quiet shrubs would sprout thorny vines without warning. Brightly colored flowers could spray paralyzing powder. Even the ground itself might turn into devouring quicksand at a single misstep.

Fortunately, with Logan leading—calm, unfathomable, and powerful—he sensed danger in advance or dissolved each crisis with understated ease, keeping the team safe.

After a full day and night of walking, the scenery suddenly opened up.

Before them rose a lush green bamboo forest. Tall, straight poles swayed gently, mist curled between the stalks, and the air carried the clean fragrance of bamboo. Compared with the perilous jungle behind them, it felt like a hidden paradise.

“This place… it’s so quiet,” one of the female guards whispered, her tense shoulders loosening.

Grace nodded slightly, but her eyes stayed wary.

“Anything unusual must be demonic. On Fairyharbor Island, the quieter the place, the more likely it hides unknown dangers.”

Logan’s gaze swept the bamboo forest. Something flickered across his expression, but he said nothing—just signaled the team to continue forward.

Deep within the forest they found a small clearing and a simple bamboo courtyard.

Inside, a child of about five or six, hair in a ponytail and wearing a red bellyband, sat on a swing. He drifted back and forth, humming a tuneless nursery rhyme with an innocent face.

Grace hesitated, then stepped forward. Through the fence she tried to make her voice gentle.

“Little friend, where are your parents? We’re just passing by. Could we come in and ask for a bowl of water?”

The child on the swing didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her, simply swinging and humming.

Grace raised her voice.

“Little friend, we have no ill intentions. We only want to ask for directions.”

The child still ignored her, swinging higher, the creak of bamboo loud and sharp—as if expressing displeasure.

Grace frowned. Something felt wrong, but she still reached for the fragile-looking gate to step closer.

Just as her fingers brushed the fence—

Snort!

The child suddenly snorted coldly, a stern look flashing across his young face—utterly at odds with his age. Without turning his head, he flicked his sleeve.

Whoosh!

A stream of condensed green energy shot out like an arrow, sharp enough to pierce metal, straight at Grace’s chest.

The guards cried out. The female guard blanched, lunging forward but too late to intervene.

In that instant Logan moved. He didn’t draw his sword; he simply brought his right index and middle fingers together and pointed forward.

Pop.

The fierce green energy struck an invisible barrier before reaching Grace, crumbling into harmless wisps that dissipated into the air.

Grace staggered back to Logan’s side, a cold sweat on her brow.

The child stopped swinging and turned. His small face burned with surprise and anger.

He stared at Logan with wide black eyes, sizing him up.

“Huh? You’re quite capable for an outsider. You actually blocked my casual attack?”

Logan’s face stayed calm. He lowered his hand.

“Little kid, why so cruel? If you have something to say, speak it.”

“Cruel? Hmph! You barge into my quiet place, disturb my meditation, and even dare lecture me?” The child’s tone sharpened.

He stomped on the ground and shot upward like a cannonball, hands forming claws wreathed in green light. With a sharp whistle the claws slashed at Logan’s head, the air rippling, bamboo bending and breaking under the force.

Logan only shook his head, almost helpless.

He still didn’t dodge. Instead he raised his right hand, palm up, and gently supported.

A soft yet overwhelming power bloomed, like a spring breeze, dissolving the child’s claws instantly.

The child felt himself caught by an irresistible force. No matter how he urged his internal energy, he couldn’t break free—suspended in midair.

“You—!” His face flushed with shock and anger, energy surging wildly as if to unleash something even stronger.

“Tonge, stop!”

A clear shout cut through the courtyard.

A green figure floated down like a falling leaf—an old Taoist priest with a scruffy face, disheveled hair and beard, and a faded robe.

He glared sternly at the child named Tonge.

“Don’t be rude!”

Tonge clearly feared the old man. He withdrew his energy, landed with a pout, and stood aside, still glaring at Logan in defiance.

The old priest turned to Logan, Grace, and the others, bowed slightly, and spoke apologetically.

“I have been lax in my teaching. My disciple offended you. Please forgive him.”

Sensing the old man’s gentle aura, Grace quickly returned the greeting.

“Senior, please excuse us. We were the ones who disturbed you first.”

She hesitated, then spoke earnestly.

“Senior, we risked our lives to reach the island for an elixir that can save my father’s life. Could you please tell us where to find it?”

The old man studied Grace carefully, then looked deeply at Logan. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He sighed and shook his head.

“Your filial piety is commendable, little girl. But take my advice. This place is no ground for seekers of medicine or immortals. Those so-called elixirs are bound to great cause and danger. Leave now, while you still can.”

Grace’s eyes were resolute. She bowed again.

“My father is critically ill. As long as there’s a glimmer of hope, I won’t give up. I beg for your guidance—even if it means mountains of swords and seas of fire ahead.”

The old man hesitated, then sighed once more.

“Alas… fate.”

He pointed into the bamboo.

“Head southeast through this forest to a deep canyon. At the canyon’s end you may find clues to what you seek. But the closer you get, the greater the danger. Be careful.”

Grace’s face lit with joy. She bowed deeply.

“Thank you very much for your guidance, Senior!”

The old man waved his hand, saying nothing more.

Grace and the others dared not linger. After thanking him again, they hurried off in the direction he had given.

When Logan’s group had vanished into the bamboo, the child whispered,

“Master, why tell them? They’re obviously ‘blood-eating’ people.”

The old priest did not answer. He only gazed toward where Logan had disappeared, his brows furrowed, a glimmer of light in his cloudy eyes. He muttered under his breath, barely audible:

“That man’s aura was restrained—deep as the ocean. Even I couldn’t gauge his depth. For such a person to arrive here… could he be the dragon-slayer spoken of in ancient texts?”

A mountain breeze stirred. Bamboo leaves rustled, as if echoing his earth-shaking whisper.

2665

After leaving the strange bamboo forest, Grace and her group headed southeast in the direction pointed out by the old Taoist.

The deeper they walked, the thicker the fog became. The bamboo leaves no longer rustled pleasantly but instead fell into a heavy silence. The faint fragrance of bamboo was now mixed with a sweet, unsettling smell.

“Miss, can you believe what that old priest said?” the female guard whispered, her eyes darting around.

Grace’s expression stayed serious. She shook her head slightly. “It’s hard to tell if it’s true. But it’s the only clue we have.”

If Logan hadn’t been with her, Grace would never have dared to take the risk.

After about an hour, the bamboo gave way to a deep canyon—just as the old man had described.

The mouth of the canyon was narrow, the black rock walls on both sides steep and bare, forming a sharp contrast to the lush green behind them. A cold wind blew from its depths, carrying with it biting chill and the stench of decay. The dim light inside made the canyon look like the gaping maw of a beast waiting to devour intruders.

“This is it.” Grace stopped at the entrance, took a deep breath, and tried to steady the pounding in her chest.

She could feel the danger ahead. It seemed greater than the carnivorous plants and soul-crying grass they had faced, perhaps even rivaling the white-robed man who had controlled thunder.

The guards tensed, their hands gripping their weapons tighter as they closed ranks protectively around her.

“Logan, have you found anything?” Grace asked quietly.

“This canyon is strange.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. His spiritual sense probed forward, but it was swallowed like a drop in the ocean, suppressed by some unseen force. He could only sense a vague chaos.

“Stay close to me and be alert.” His voice was calm but firm. He stepped into the canyon first.

The group hurried after him.

The temperature dropped sharply inside. The wind cut through their clothes like ice, seeping into their bones. The ground beneath their feet was soft and damp, their steps muffled in the silence. The towering cliffs on either side blocked out the sun, allowing only a thin sliver of light through a crack above.

The smell of decay grew stronger, laced with a sulfuric stench.

“Clack.”

A guard had kicked something. Looking down, he saw a white bone—part of a beast’s leg.

As they went deeper, more bones appeared, scattered across the mud. Some belonged to animals, others were clearly human. Skulls and ribs lay broken, silent warnings of what awaited them.

Fear seeped into the guards’ hearts.

“Steady your minds. Don’t let evil seep in.” Logan’s cold voice cut through their dread, steady and grounding, quieting the panic gnawing at them.

He knew this canyon held not just physical dangers but also a corrosive energy that targeted the mind.

After a mile, the path widened. The ground was pitted with bubbling potholes filled with sticky black liquid, reeking of sulfur.

Here and there, strange plants grew—twisted, brightly colored things that swayed without wind, as though alive.

Then, from the depths of the canyon, a low roar rolled out, faint but heavy, vibrating straight into their souls. Everyone stiffened.

Logan’s steps slowed. His hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. He could sense the presence ahead—an extremely powerful life form, violent and chaotic, its aura no weaker than that thunder-wielding man.

“Be careful,” he warned softly.

The guards immediately drew their blades, forming a defensive ring around Grace.

The roar came again, closer this time, followed by heavy footsteps and the grinding of chains against rock.

A foul, fishy wind blew toward them.

Then the shadow at the canyon’s bend twisted, and a monstrous figure emerged—its aura thick with murderous intent.

It was a lizard-like beast with three heads.

Its body was covered in black, metallic scales, glowing faintly with lava-red light that seeped through the cracks. Its scarlet eyes burned with violence and destruction. Its limbs were as thick as stone pillars, claws gouging into the ground, and its bone-spurred tail smashed against the walls, leaving deep scars.

Thick black chains bound its neck and limbs, runes glowing faintly along their lengths. The other ends of the chains were anchored deep into the rock. Even restrained, the monster’s oppressive aura made the guards’ breaths falter and their knees buckle.

Only Logan stood firm, calm as ever, his hand still resting on his sword.

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The roars of the three-headed beast thundered through the canyon, shaking loose gravel from the walls.

Its six scarlet eyes locked onto Logan. The middle head suddenly reared back, then spat out a torrent of blazing dark red fire, the flames reeking of sulfur and surging forward like molten magma.

Even before the flames reached them, the heat distorted the air. Shallow puddles evaporated instantly, and the guards felt their hair curl and their skin sting.

“Stand back!”

Logan’s low shout rang out. Instead of retreating, he stepped forward, placing himself in front of everyone. He didn’t draw his sword. His fingers pressed together like a blade, and he thrust forward.

A crescent-shaped green sword energy appeared, tearing through the air with a sharp whistle. It slashed into the torrent of fire.

There was no deafening explosion—the green arc simply split the flames in half, as cleanly as a knife through butter.

The parted fire rushed past Logan’s sides, scorching the rock walls black, but it never touched him or those behind him.

The monster bellowed in fury. All three heads roared at once, then the other two attacked. The left head spewed a foul green mist thick with poison, while the right head released a silent psychic shock that stabbed straight into Logan’s mind.

“A trifle.”

Logan’s expression didn’t change. He flicked his sleeve, and a wave of energy surged out, sweeping the poisonous fog back toward the beast. At the same time, his spiritual will condensed like a sword and shattered the psychic attack with ease.

Choked by its own venom, the beast howled louder, thrashing in rage.

Its colossal frame suddenly reared up, chains rattling as its front limbs—like twin hammers—came crashing down toward Logan’s head with the force to shatter a mountain.

“Just in time!”

A spark of fighting spirit lit Logan’s eyes. His right hand finally left the hilt.

“Clang!”

The sword rang as it left its sheath, its cry echoing through the canyon like a dragon’s roar. The blade shimmered like flowing autumn water, cold and sharp.

Instead of dodging, Logan stepped into the strike. His wrist flicked, his sword tracing a fluid arc upward. A brilliant green sword energy shot skyward.

“Split the sky!”

The strike met the beast’s claws head-on.

“Boom!!”

The canyon erupted with the impact. Airwaves blasted outward, the ground split, and stone fragments flew in all directions.

The monster shrieked in agony. Its mighty claws—capable of tearing divine weapons apart—were severed at the wrists, spraying dark red blood like a waterfall.

It staggered back, three heads flailing as its roar grew shrill and desperate.

But just when everyone thought it was finished, the beast’s body began to change.

The lava-like glow under its scales flared brighter, like a volcano about to erupt. The wounds writhed—not to heal, but to transform.

Its body shrank even as its aura surged higher. Its scales thickened, gleaming with a cold metallic light. With two sharp cracks, a pair of black, webbed wings burst from its back.

Bones ground together with a sickening sound. The three heads fused into one—a horned, bone-spurred head with longer fangs and a single scarlet eye that glowed with cruelty.

No longer a lumbering ground beast, it was now a flying terror three meters tall with a wingspan of ten meters—half dragon, half lizard, and far more dangerous.

“Second form?” Logan raised a brow. The transformation was unexpected. The beast’s speed, strength, and aura had nearly doubled.

“Roar!”

The single eye locked onto him. The monster’s wings snapped open, launching it forward like black lightning. Its claws slashed for Logan’s throat, while its horn flared with light and fired a beam of destructive energy straight at his chest.

“Good speed.”

Logan’s voice was calm as his figure blurred and vanished. The black beam blasted into the ground where he had stood, leaving a gaping hole.

In the next instant, he appeared above the beast’s flank. His sword swept down, and countless arcs of green sword energy rained like a storm.

“Ding-dang-dang… Puff!”

The beast whipped its wings, conjuring whirlwinds that shattered most of the blades, but not all. Dozens slashed through, carving deep gashes into its scales and drawing blood.

The creature shrieked in pain, its single eye flashing with vicious cunning. Ignoring its wounds, it twisted its body and opened its massive jaws.

Within its maw, a ball of pitch-black energy rapidly condensed. The destructive aura it released made Grace and the others tremble, their very souls quivering.

2667

“Can’t let it finish!” Logan’s eyes turned cold as he stopped holding back.

The mystical energy in his body surged like a roaring river and poured into his long sword. The blade hummed, radiating a stronger green light until a ten-foot-long lightsaber shadow condensed above his head.

“Cut!”

Logan pressed his fingers together and slashed forward. The massive lightsaber, carrying the will to tear everything apart like a divine judgment from the heavens, came crashing down on the beast as it condensed the energy ball.

Before the sword even arrived, its sharp intent locked the space around the beast, leaving it with no chance of escape.

The flying beast felt a fatal threat. Fear flickered in its single eye, and the energy ball in its mouth was forced to fire prematurely, hurtling toward the colossal lightsaber.

“Boom—!!”

The explosion was far more violent than before. The entire canyon shook, as though it might collapse at any moment.

The black energy ball and the cyan lightsaber clashed for an instant before the lightsaber cleaved through it. The remaining sword force didn’t stop—it struck directly at the beast’s horn.

“Crack!”

The horn shattered with a crisp sound. The lightsaber split the beast from its head to its tail in one clean strike.

The flying beast froze mid-air, its single eye quickly dimming.

A heartbeat later, its body split neatly in half and crashed to the ground. Blood rained down as it twitched twice before falling still.

“Is… is it over?” one guard stammered, staring at the bisected corpse in disbelief.

Grace exhaled, relieved, but her eyes stayed fixed on the carcass. A strange unease lingered in her chest. This beast is too strange. Could it still have more tricks?

Her fear was soon confirmed.

The corpse of the beast’s second form quickly lost its luster, turning gray. Instead of bleeding, its body disintegrated like dried clay, releasing streams of black smoke.

The smoke didn’t dissipate. It gathered and compressed at the center, twisting the very air around it.

A terrifying aura, far more suffocating than before, surged forth like an ancient evil god awakening from eternal slumber.

From within the smoke, a blurry one-meter-tall figure slowly emerged.

It was no longer beast-like but humanoid, clad in dark red armor that looked forged from lava and bone. Two scarlet flames flickered beneath its helmet, and in its hand it gripped a spear of pure dark energy, its form shifting and writhing unnaturally.

This third form of the “beast” radiated a restrained but unfathomable power. Its burning scarlet eyes fixed on Logan with cold detachment, filled only with the purest will to kill and destroy.

Just standing there, it seemed like the master of darkness and death itself.

The oppressive force pressed down harder than anything Logan had felt before—nearly equal to the old man in Taoist robes. For the first time, his relaxed expression vanished.

He raised his long sword slowly, the tip pointing straight at the armored figure, his gaze razor sharp.

Without a sound, the figure moved.

No roar. No warning. It simply thrust its twisted dark spear forward.

The motion seemed slow, yet in an instant it crossed dozens of feet. Wherever the spear’s tip passed, the space split open with faint black cracks. A cold, corrosive aura locked onto Logan—silent, but as fast as lightning.

This strike carried nothing but pure speed and destruction.

Logan’s pupils narrowed. The power behind this thrust far surpassed the beast’s earlier forms. He dared not underestimate it. His energy surged wildly, sword aura flaring to its peak.

“Break!”

Logan exhaled sharply. The long sword in his grip struck forward, its tip meeting the dark spear with precise accuracy.

“Clang—!”

The piercing collision rang out like steel shattering eardrums.

Sword tip and spear tip clashed at a single point, erupting with light and darkness as green sword energy and black energy devoured each other.

There was no outward explosion—every ounce of force compressed into that tiny spot, making it even more dangerous.

Logan felt the deathly, corrosive power creep along his blade, numbing his arm. The ground beneath his feet cracked and sank as if crumbling into nothing.

The armored figure stood firm, unmoving. The scarlet flames beneath its helmet flickered faintly—surprised that Logan had withstood the strike.

But it didn’t pause. With a flick of its wrist, the dark spear withdrew like a venomous snake.

In the blink of an eye, spear shadows filled the sky, descending like a storm to engulf Logan from every direction. Each shadow carried a bone-chilling force that seemed capable of ripping apart the soul.

Logan’s eyes sharpened. His body flickered through the air as his sword weaved a seamless curtain of green light.

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!”

The canyon rang with relentless clashes. Sword lights and spear shadows crashed violently, their unleashed fragments cutting into the rock walls and riddling them with holes.

Their movements blurred into streaks of light, colliding again and again, each strike making the canyon tremble. The battle now was fiercer—and deadlier—than anything before.

2668

The canyon’s atmosphere was suffocating, weighed down by an oppressive gloom.

The dark-red armored humanoid beast struck like death itself—every blow sharp, unrelenting, and charged with a corrosive energy that gnawed at everything it touched.

Logan pushed his body to the limit, his sword flashing like a dragon weaving through the storm of spear shadows. He blocked, countered, and searched relentlessly for an opening.

This isn’t working, he thought grimly.

In its third form, the beast’s strength and speed had surged far beyond what it had shown before. Its combat skills were nearly flawless, and its energy seemed bottomless.

If he stayed on defense, he would eventually be crushed. Victory could only come with one decisive strike.

So Logan baited it. He left a deliberate flaw, pausing ever so slightly as he dodged a vicious side thrust.

The beast’s crimson eyes flared like twin flames. It lunged, seizing the chance, its spear darting out like a venomous dragon, the speed spiking as it drove straight for Logan’s waist.

But as the tip closed in, a cold gleam lit up Logan’s eyes.

Now!

Instead of dodging, he poured every ounce of strength into his left palm. A dark blue light erupted, etched with faint Tai Chi patterns, as he thrust it into the path of the spear.

“Mystical Guiye Palm!”

“Buzz!”

The clash didn’t ring with steel-on-steel, but with a deep, resonant hum—as if raw energy itself was being absorbed and unraveled.

Logan’s palm wasn’t meant to destroy; it was meant to entangle. The spear’s violent dark energy faltered for just an instant.

For someone like Logan, an instant was enough.

His sword arm moved.

This time, his strike wasn’t fast. It was deliberate—so slow it seemed to draw in the very energy of the canyon.

The blade shimmered with green light, runes flickering across it before vanishing. A vast sword intent surged upward, ancient and boundless, sweeping away the darkness and stillness that smothered the canyon.

“One sword separates the worlds.”

His low voice cut through the silence, and as the final word fell, his blade thrust forward.

It didn’t feel like a sword aimed at flesh. It felt as if it pierced space, time, even cause and effect.

The beast shuddered at the threat. It tried to yank its spear back, but Logan’s palm held it fast.

A metallic, inhuman shriek ripped out as its armor flared blood-red, flames under its helmet whipping wildly as it scrambled to throw up its strongest defense.

But against that sword, it was meaningless.

The blade slipped through its defenses and pierced its chestplate.

There was no explosion, no spray of gore.

Time simply…stopped.

Then, from the sword’s tip, countless green cracks spread like spiderwebs, racing across the beast’s armor and body.

What had seemed indestructible began to collapse. The spear dissolved into smoke. Its arms, torso, head—everything disintegrated, crumbling into drifting dust and red motes of light. Even the flames in its eyes winked out.

The crushing pressure vanished instantly.

Logan stood alone, sword in hand, his breath coming hard.

The canyon fell silent.

“We won!” someone gasped from the sidelines.

Grace exhaled shakily, her nerves finally easing.

But the relief didn’t last.

The scattered red dust and light motes didn’t fade like ordinary energy. Instead, they began to pull together—slowly at first, then faster—swirling into a dark vortex where the beast had fallen.

In its depths, shadows thickened. Armor fragments and glowing veins of energy faintly took shape.

“What…what’s happening?!” one guard stammered, his smile freezing into horror.

“It’s not dead? That’s its…third form?!” another voice trembled.

Grace’s face went pale, her heart lurching back into her throat.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, sharp as blades, fixed on the vortex. He could feel it—hatred, stubborn and unyielding, rising out of the scattered fragments.

“It won’t be that easy,” he muttered.

Without hesitation, he flicked his wrist. A thread of sword-light shot forward, slicing into the forming core.

“Slash!”

The energy burst apart, scattering once more.

But to his shock, the fragments began gathering again almost immediately—faster this time. The dark core remained, pulsing like an immortal brand.

Logan’s gaze hardened. He struck again, unleashing a net of green sword-light that shredded the fragments into dust finer than the eye could follow.

Still, within mere breaths, they re-formed, drawn together as rivers to the sea. The vortex pulsed back to life—smaller, dimmer, but just as defiant.

Once. Twice. Again and again Logan destroyed it—blade and spirit striking at its very will. Yet each time, it revived, its essence refusing to die.

The beast seemed to embody immortality itself. As long as even the faintest trace of its energy remained, it would rebuild.

Logan stood, sword in hand, his brow furrowed deeper with every failed attempt. For the first time, his eyes showed not victory, but sharp, pensive focus.

This wasn’t just resilience. This was something else. A hidden secret of Fairyharbor Island—or perhaps a power tied to the very rules of existence.

 

 

 

English version 

2669

The canyon’s atmosphere plunged from brief euphoria into an even deeper abyss of despair.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Each time Logan’s sword light struck, it shredded the re-forming dark-red energy into nothingness. The annihilating intent within his strikes could have erased a soul’s imprint entirely.

But the strange energy that fueled the humanoid beast clung on like a curse—relentless, immortal, as if bound by some unbreakable law of existence. No matter how thoroughly he destroyed it, it would always condense again, faster each time, from the finest grains of dust.

The dark-red vortex pulsed like a mocking eye, watching coldly as every attempt to destroy it failed. Each resurgence radiated even stronger death and resentment.

“How… how can this be? I can’t kill it. I can’t kill it at all!”

“Even Mr. Rhys can’t stop it?”

The onlookers’ faces turned pale. Panic spread.

Logan—who had long seemed invincible—now stood helpless before a creature that refused to die. The sight shattered the faith they’d placed in him like glass.

Grace’s brows knitted tightly, her expression grave.

On this island, some beings defied all logic. Killing them outright might trigger forces far beyond comprehension—perhaps even forbidden ones.

“If it can’t be killed…” Logan murmured, “then it must be sealed.”

After several futile sword strikes, he stopped.

As the dark-red energy reassembled—its strength still unstable—Logan sheathed his sword, stepped back, and began forming rapid, intricate hand seals in front of his chest. His fingers blurred, moving faster than the eye could follow.

The air around him shifted. The razor edge of a sword cultivator faded away, replaced by an ancient, steady aura—vast as the earth, heavy as the heavens.

His true energy, once unleashed outward, now folded inward, gathering and compressing like countless rivers flowing into the sea. It began to cycle along a precise pattern, drawing on the raw forces of the five elements and space itself.

“The universe is boundless. The five elements turn. Seal the heavens—lock the earth!”

Logan’s low voice echoed through the canyon like the sound of the Dao itself.

He thrust his palms forward. Between them, a massive, three-dimensional magic circle burst into existence, radiating with five-colored light—gold, green, blue, red, and yellow.

At its core, a Yin-Yang fish rotated slowly. Around it, countless rune chains spun and flared, releasing an overwhelming will that could suppress all evil and imprison even the wildest energies.

“Go!”

The sealing circle expanded like a net that dragged both heaven and earth, crashing down upon the half-formed dark-red beast with unstoppable force.

Sensing danger, the beast let out a piercing shriek. Its half-formed arms flailed wildly, sending waves of dark energy into the air in a desperate attempt to shatter the seal.

But its power was weakened mid-reconstruction, while Logan’s sealing art—an authentic Xuanmen supreme technique—was crafted precisely to counter beings of chaos and darkness.

The dark energy slammed into the five-colored circle, creating brief ripples that were instantly absorbed and neutralized by the spinning elemental light.

The formation shone brighter, descending as rune chains uncoiled like living serpents. They wrapped around the beast layer by layer—from ankles to waist, then to its chest, arms, and head.

“ROAR!”

The creature bellowed, thrashing violently. Dark-red light surged as it tried to tear free, but the rune chains only tightened, biting deep into its energy-forged flesh.

Five-colored light flowed through the bindings, searing marks into its surface like molten brands, burning away the darkness and purifying the deathly aura.

Finally, under everyone’s tense, breathless gaze, the sealing array completed its descent.

A massive light cocoon—three meters wide—formed around the beast, flashing with shifting hues of gold, green, blue, red, and yellow.

Runes flowed along its surface. The Yin-Yang fish spun calmly within. A powerful, invisible barrier emanated outward, cutting off the suffocating energy inside.

The creature’s struggles faded. Its roars grew weaker… and then stopped completely.

The canyon fell silent once more.

The glowing cocoon stood motionless—like a tombstone marking the death of something that could never truly die.

Everyone held their breath, eyes flicking between the sealed light cocoon and Logan, who stood pale and unsteady.

It was clear that casting such a seal had drained him deeply.

Only after several long moments did he exhale, sensing no further movement from within. Relief swept through him, though the weight of exhaustion lingered.

“Is… is it over? Did you seal it?” a female guard asked, her voice trembling.

Grace rushed forward. “Logan, are you alright?”

It was the first time she had seen him look this strained since his breakthrough.

“I’m fine,” Logan replied, shaking his head. “But this creature’s nature is strange—it can’t truly die. I’ve only imprisoned it temporarily using the Five-Emperor Sealing Technique. The seal will weaken with time… or if disturbed by external forces. We can’t linger here. We must cross the canyon immediately.”

His words fell like cold water on the group, extinguishing what little relief they’d felt.

The danger wasn’t gone—it was merely sleeping.

They gathered themselves quickly, faces tight with caution.

One by one, they followed Logan deeper into the canyon, carefully skirting around the glowing cocoon that pulsed faintly with the remnants of its seal—its five-colored light casting long, uneasy shadows on the canyon walls.

 

 

2670

Crossing the canyon—where the purple cocoon sealed their nightmare behind them—felt like stepping straight into another one. This one was older, quieter, and somehow even more suffocating.

The air was thick with decay, the stench of rot mingling with the sharp tang of rust and the stale dust of millennia.

Thin shafts of light filtered through the narrow cracks above the towering rock walls, casting broken patterns across the path ahead. Beneath that dim glow stretched what looked like the remains of an ancient battlefield—vast, desolate, and swallowed by silence.

No banners waved. No corpses lay in piles. Only a stillness worn smooth by time itself.

All around lay massive bones—smooth and jade-like, yet exuding a faint, oppressive power. Some ribs curved high like arches. Some skulls were as large as houses. The remains of colossal beasts long extinct, lying quietly among shattered weapons and collapsed stone pillars.

Even after endless years, their very presence pressed on the air like a memory that refused to die.

Scattered between them were fragments of armor and weapons, dulled and corroded, their luster long gone. Their designs were primitive yet intricate—ancient beyond recognition, unlike anything from the forging schools of the modern age.

Logan crouched and lifted half of a rusted sword from the dirt. Running his fingertips over its blade, he felt only the faintest echo of what once was spiritual power—now cold and lifeless, steeped in death.

Nearby, a shattered shield jutted from the ground, marred by deep claw marks and melted edges.

The earth itself was torn and pitted, full of cracks—some shallow, some plunging so deep they swallowed the light, breathing out cold, hollow drafts.

The sheer scale of the destruction was staggering. The battle that had raged here must have shaken the heavens.

“Wh–what is this place?” the female guard whispered, her voice trembling.

A pressure filled the air—vast and ancient. It came not from any living being, but from the ruins of time, from the weight of something that had once witnessed gods and monsters die.

“These skeletons… these weapons…” she continued, “they can’t belong to ordinary warriors. Could this be one of the legendary ancient ruins?”

Grace’s eyes were wide with awe. She slowly turned in a circle, taking in the devastation. “It has to be,” she murmured. “This place… it feels sacred—and cursed.”

Her gaze fell upon a nearby wall, half-collapsed but still bearing traces of ancient carvings. Strange symbols and faded murals stretched across its surface.

The group gathered close.

Though blurred by time, the carvings still told fragments of a story:

A winged humanoid wreathed in light, summoning thunder to strike down a monstrous beast.

A massive magic circle pulling power from the stars.

A giant as tall as a mountain, falling to its knees beneath the heavens.

The murals were worn almost beyond recognition, yet their tragic grandeur still echoed through the ages.

Logan studied them carefully, his gaze finally settling on a few partially legible characters carved into the stone.

The script was unlike any known form—neither seal script nor clerical—beautiful and intricate, as if each line contained the rhythm of heaven and earth itself.

“Could this be… Cloud Seal script?” Grace said softly, uncertainty in her voice. “I’ve seen something like it before—on a fragment in the Imperial Palace archives. They say it was used by the ancient Qi-binding cultivators, a divine language that could commune with spirits and gods.”

Logan nodded slowly. He couldn’t fully decipher it, but through the faint spiritual resonance within the stone, he caught fragments of meaning: ‘seal,’ ‘suppression,’ ‘evil,’ ‘Yaochi,’ and ‘Xuanpu.’

“Yaochi? Xuanpu?” Grace’s eyes lit with sudden hope. “Those names appear in ancient texts! They say Xuanpu lies within Kunlun, and Yaochi rests in Fairyharbor—the abodes of immortals, where elixirs of eternal life are cultivated. Could it be that the immortals really lived here?”

Logan studied the mural again. At the island’s center, he pointed to the faint outline of celestial palaces suspended in midair, surrounded by waterfalls and luminous springs. Near them were Cloud Seal markings similar to the word ‘Xuanpu.’

“From what’s left here,” he said quietly, “if immortals once existed on this island, their traces would most likely be found in these two places. Especially Yaochi—it’s often linked to divine elixirs and the power to prolong life.”

Then his expression darkened as he gestured toward another mural.

This one depicted a vast, indistinct beast radiating unimaginable ferocity—its form bound deep in the earth by chains and pillars of light. Around it were carvings of humanoid figures holding divine weapons, their combined power sealing it beneath the surface. The nearby characters read ‘Evil Dragon’—or perhaps ‘Ruin Dragon.’

“But the true heart of this island,” Logan said grimly, “appears to be a seal. That so-called Evil Dragon might be what Fairyharbor Island was built to imprison.”

He paused, his voice low. “The undying beast we fought earlier… it might draw its power from the same source that binds this dragon.”

The faint spark of hope in everyone’s hearts flickered—and dimmed.

If that was true, then what they faced wasn’t just an immortal creature, but the echo of a primordial evil vast enough to destroy the world.

Grace straightened, determination hardening her gaze. “Even so, we can’t turn back. At least now we have direction—and purpose. Logan, where should we head next?”

Closing his eyes, Logan extended his spiritual senses.

The interference that had plagued them earlier was still present, but weaker now—like fog beginning to thin.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and pointed forward. “That way. The residual energy there is the most complex—part serene, part deadly. It matches the kind of balance one might expect near Xuanpu or Yaochi. And…” He gestured to the ground. “Something large has moved that way recently. Not all of it human.”

A chill swept through the group.

Without another word, they pressed on, weaving through the skeletal remains of titans and the shattered remnants of an ancient war.

They crossed what might once have been a riverbed, the soil still faintly red—as though stained by blood that time could not wash away.

Then—

“Ah!” A startled cry broke the silence.

One of the guards had stumbled over something buried in loose soil.

Everyone turned—and froze.

Half-buried in the dirt was a corpse.

It was fresh. Dressed in modern warrior attire. The body hadn’t fully decayed, but a gaping hole in the chest told its story well enough—whatever had killed him had done so in an instant.