Aetheris felt like he was on the verge of losing his mind.
The oppressive Demonic energy around him was suffocating.
This wasn't his first encounter with such an aura.
Having completed his Wandering Trial after turning twenty, Aetheris had gained the privilege to travel freely in and out of Suncrest Sect.
He had even joined the Unity's forces to eradicate remnants of the Demonic Sect in the past.
His first confrontation with Demonic energy was at the age of twenty-four, during an encounter with the Black Grievance Group, one of the scattered remnants of the old Demonic Sect.
The leader of the Black Grievance Group, thought to be long dead, had erged from their hideout, albeit missing an arm and an eye.
At the ti, Aetheris, being the strongest in the group, managed to subdue the leader.
His feat earned him the title Crimson Blade of Ten Thousand Days.
Even back then, the presence of Demonic energy from the leader had been overwhelming, leaving Aetheris dizzy.
But this?
The Demonic energy here was at least ten tis more suffocating.
"…Even after ten years," he thought, his mind clouded.
In that ti, his mastery of the Clear Mind Technique had deepened, earning him recognition and even a Jade Elixir as a reward.
He had surpassed the Supre Realm, becoming a true master of his craft.
Yet now, the pain he felt was worse than anything he'd ever experienced.
The air itself stung his skin like poison.
Every breath brought with it a wave of oppressive Demonic energy, threatening to rot his insides unless he used his pure energy to burn it away.
"What on earth is sealed beneath this place?"
His thoughts spiraled into confusion.
Ahead of him, the Grandmaster Gideon radiated a calm yet intense violet glow, while his master, Magnus, followed closely behind.
It was clear that the two of them knew the truth.
"...Master," Aetheris finally spoke, his voice trembling.
"Speak, Aetheris," replied Magnus, as though anticipating the question.
The oppressive Demonic energy around them wasn't sothing one could easily dismiss.
In this era, such a presence was unprecedented.
"What exactly is sealed beneath this place to produce such terrifying Demonic energy?"
"That..." Magnus glanced briefly at Gideon, who gave a small nod.
"You already know the answer, don't you?" said Gideon, his tone asured.
"Master, you an to tell —"
"Yes. I was going to tell you eventually, though this is earlier than I'd planned," admitted Gideon.
The mont he finished speaking, Aetheris felt sothing crunch beneath his foot.
The sensation was that of stepping on a small rodent, but when he looked down...
His eyes widened in horror.
It was a rat, but grotesquely deford.
It had over a dozen legs, a tangle of six or seven tails, and several bulbous eyes gleaming unnaturally from its twisted back.
"What... what is this?!"
"Calm yourself. Such is the nature of Demonic energy," said Gideon firmly.
The word 'Demon' in Demonic energy ca from the term for the evil deity Eternal Malice, a being in Buddhist scripture.
Eternal Malice was described as the one who obstructs enlightennt, called The Tempter or The Lord of the Sixth Heaven, the eternal adversary of liberation.
Before Aetheris's eyes, the crushed rat began to squirm again, its innards twisting as it moved.
"Ah… ah… AAAHH!"
A shiver ran down his spine as he let out a terrified scream.
Before the sound could echo further, Magnus thrust his fist into Aetheris's mouth, silencing him.
"Mmmph… mmph!"
"This is the very essence of Eternal Malice's Energy, Aetheris," said Gideon.
The power of Demonic energy rejected all natural order, enlightennt, and nirvana.
Once a being was tainted by it, driving it out beca nearly impossible, as it defied all principles of the world.
"That's why those heavily corrupted by Demonic energy cannot die normally. Even if you cut off their heads or pierce their hearts..."
Gideon trailed off, gazing at the grotesque rat with a mix of disgust and pity.
"Even a re rat has beco a monstrosity under the influence of this Demonic energy," he muttered.
Though he was a figure of the righteous path, Gideon couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow.
As much as he was an adversary to evil, he never condoned such reckless defiance of nature's balance.
"Is this really the result of the Blackened Arm of the Demonic Sect's Young Master?" asked Magnus.
At this revelation, Aetheris's eyes went wide with shock.
Once Magnus removed his hand from his mouth, he stamred, "The Blackened Arm of the Young Master of the Demonic Sect?!"
"Answer him, Gideon," said Magnus.
"This is a matter for the Sect Leader or his equal to address, not ."
Gideon nodded solemnly.
"Yes. The Akrest Clan holds the head of the Young Master, sealed within Sword Sovereign Hall. His torso rests in Iron Fist Temple, while Mount Celestial Sword Sect guards his right arm.
Here, beneath Suncrest, lies his left arm."
"And the rest of him?" asked Aetheris, his face pale as a sheet.
Gideon's expression turned grim.
"The other parts are scattered far and wide… and not all of them are accounted for."
Even as he spoke, the suffocating aura of Demonic energy pressed down on them like an unending nightmare.
Even now, they were only at the entrance of the cave.
If this was the sheer intensity of Demonic energy at the threshold, what kind of being was the Heavenly Demon, the leader of the Demonic Sect?
"The right leg was sealed by the Everstone Clan using their supre formation arts. The left leg… it was lost."
"...Lost?"
"Yes. It was severed but managed to wriggle away on its own and vanish," said Gideon.
A shiver ran down Aetheris's spine.
The stories surrounding the Heavenly Demon and the Young Master of the Demonic Sect had always been shrouded in secrecy.
Even now, hearing such revelations left him stunned.
"...Grandmaster, may I ask just one more question?"
"What is it?"
"If the Young Master cannot die even after his body was dismbered, then…"
It was a natural question, one anyone would ask upon learning such things.
"How did Sword Sovereign, the leader of the Martial Unity, manage to kill the Heavenly Demon?"
At Iron Fist Sect Temple
Marcus had yet to wake.
Vera, refusing to leave his side, remained at his bedside. To ensure her rest, Valen and the monks barred anyone from entering the room.
anwhile, Arther had already recovered.
"Did you save my life, young lady?" asked the lively young monk, his tone cheerful.
"Well, not just … I an, I didn't do it alone… um, actually…" Vera stamred.
"But you helped! That's what matters! Thank you!" he exclaid, his radiant energy pulling Vera into his infectious enthusiasm.
Ethan, anwhile, had found his own way to pass the ti.
He was sparring with the third-generation disciples of the Iron Fist Sect.
Though they called it sparring, it was more akin to Ethan dominating his opponents with ease.
The towering peaks of Mount of the Moon, ho to Iron Fist were no less daunting than the rocky cliffs of Suncrest, the Sword Peak.
Thus, both Ethan and Vera had little trouble navigating the steep terrain.
"Did you thank Valen yet?" asked Vera.
"Of course I did!" replied Arther, still grinning.
Their group had now spent a week at Iron Fist Temple, and Ethan had quickly beco popular.
It was no surprise.
With so many boys his age, it was only natural for them to bond over martial arts.
Ethan, with his competitive spirit and eagerness to prove himself, fit right in.
The young monks of Iron Fist were no different. Raised on tales of the Thousand-Year Iron Fist being the origin of all martial arts in the martial world, they were naturally curious to test their skills.
"Why don't you join Ethan and the others?" asked Vera, noticing Arther standing by her side.
"Because I only fight opponents I can beat," he replied with a sly grin.
Your next chapter awaits on empire
At that mont, Ethan, sparring nearby, turned his attention to them.
Distracted, he left an opening.
One of the Iron Fist disciples, taking advantage of the mont, lunged at him with a Dragon Claw Hand technique—a signature move from the 72 Arts of Iron Fist, modeled after a dragon's talons.
But Ethan, teetering on the brink of the Supre Realm, didn't even need to look.
With a single motion, he struck the attacking monk's hand, forcing him to stumble backward.
"Who just said they could beat ?" called out Ethan, his tone playful but sharp.
Though recently overshadowed by Vera, Ethan had long been considered Suncrest's greatest talent.
Even Dylan and Jace, both renowned for their skill, had to concede to his innate brilliance.
"I can think of only two people my age who could claim that," he said.
"One is Theron, the Young Master of the Akrest Clan.
The other, of course, is Vera."
"Is that so?" replied Arther, still smiling as he rose to his feet.
Despite Ethan's imposing aura, Arther showed no signs of nervousness.
His carefree deanor and peculiar speech only served to irritate Ethan further.
"Care to prove it? With your fists, of course," challenged Ethan, his competitive spirit flaring.
"My fists may be small, but I assure you, they're more than enough to et yours, sir. Heh, heh."
Taking a step back, Vera decided not to intervene.
The match was inevitable.
Both boys had the fire of rivalry blazing in their eyes.
From Vera's perspective, the two were evenly matched.
Both had reached the limits of the First-Rate Realm, standing at the precipice of the Supre Realm, yet unable to cross it.
Arther's words were not baseless bravado.
In a match, their victories would likely balance out, with neither gaining a decisive edge.
But to Ethan, his tone ca off as dismissive, almost insulting.
As if he were saying, "I can beat soone like you without a second thought."
"Fine. Let's spar," said Ethan, gripping his sword.
"You think I'll back down? Heh. Don't underestimate , sir," replied Arther, his grin widening.
As the two prodigies prepared to clash, Vera couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitent.
But just as the match was about to begin, a wooden clapper's sound interrupted them.
"What do you think you're doing, Arther, with Ethan?"
It was Nathaniel, arriving just in ti to intervene.
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