With Luo Xian's steady arm around him, Alex hobbled back to the Divine Martial Hall. His steps were slow, deliberate, ensuring the copy process wouldn't break. The faint glow of lanterns flickered along the path, casting soft shadows on their faces as they moved through the twilight.
By the time they finally reached the hall, the copy was complete.
A rush of clarity flooded Alex's mind, like a dam breaking, and suddenly, the simplified Sacred Heart Art made sense. Its power hummed in his thoughts, a testament to Di Shitian's thousand-year mastery. Even this pared-down version outshone the Yi Jin Jing in every way—richer, deeper, more versatile.
And there, tucked within the art, was a hidden gem: a method to cultivate the primordial spirit, far beyond what the Yi Jin Jing could offer.
Once inside the Divine Martial Hall, Alex and Luo Xian parted ways. He retreated to his room, the door clicking shut behind him as he sank into solitude, eager to dive into the Sacred Heart Art.
He'd spent enough time honing his internal energy to grasp the basics quickly. After a careful study, he began to practice.
For a novice, the Sacred Heart Art would demand slow, steady progress. But Alex was no beginner. His body had been tempered by the Yi Jin Jing, his foundation solid. Switching to the Sacred Heart Art felt like trading a wooden sword for a blade of steel—effortless and empowering.
From the first breath, the difference was clear. His internal energy stirred to life, more vibrant and responsive than ever. The power surged through him, faster and stronger than the Yi Jin Jing had ever allowed.
Meanwhile, in her own room, Luo Xian sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the flower Alex had risked his life to pick. The delicate petals trembled in the candlelight, their colors soft and glowing. Over and over, she replayed the moment—Alex scaling the cliff, his determination fierce, his fall inevitable.
Though she'd trained in the martial ways of Sky Gate for years, her heart had remained untouched by romance. But today, Alex had shattered that calm, his reckless act stirring something deep within her.
At first, their bond had been a mere formality, nudged along by Di Shitian's will. Yet now, after this, Luo Xian felt a warmth blooming inside her, a quiet affection she hadn't expected.
In the days that followed, Alex threw himself into mastering the Sacred Heart Art. The switch had paid off—his internal energy grew at a startling pace, his crystal points climbing faster than ever. But there was a catch: Luo Xian. Now that he'd copied the art and wanted nothing more than to focus on his training, she'd taken to seeking him out.
Sometimes she'd arrive with a bowl of soup, brewed just for him, her smile shy but sincere. Other times, she'd coax him into joining her for a stroll or a boat ride on the nearby lake, her laughter light and carefree.
It was almost comical. Before, when he'd needed to get close, she'd kept her distance. Now that he craved solitude, she was the one drawing near.
And Di Shitian? He'd found his own amusements within the World Alliance. Duanlang's raw potential had caught his eye, but so had Nie Feng and Bu Jingyun. Their talent was undeniable—prodigies destined to shape the martial world's future.
Still, Duanlang held a special place in Di Shitian's scheming mind. As Alex's disciple, the boy was practically family, a future asset in his dragon-slaying plans. These days, Di Shitian lingered near the young trio, his presence a constant shadow, planting seeds for the day they'd serve his cause.
As for Xiongba, he remained hidden away, nursing his wounds and sharpening his skills, bracing for the battle ahead.
Time slipped by, each day bringing the Mid-Autumn Festival closer, the full moon's glow growing brighter in the night sky.
One evening, Alex finished his practice, the Sacred Heart Art thrumming through his veins. He pulled out his crystal measuring device, its faint hum filling the room. The number flashed before him: 210.
A quiet nod. His progress was swift, though the leap to a four-digit crystal count—and the rank of a fourth-level Awakened—still loomed far in the distance.
"Master Alex, Master Alex…"
Wen Chouchou's voice broke the silence, his hurried steps echoing as he trotted into the Divine Martial Hall. The general manager's face was flushed with urgency. "The guests have arrived. The leader needs you to greet them."
The Mid-Autumn Festival had transformed the World Alliance into a bustling hive. With Xiongba and the Sword Saint's duel set for tonight, the air crackled with anticipation. Martial masters from every corner of the realm had come, their presence demanding a host of equal stature. Xiongba was still recovering, so the task fell to Alex.
He nodded, rising without hesitation.
The hall was alive with energy. Masters from famed sects mingled, their robes a tapestry of colors and symbols. Among them were familiar faces—Shi Wuzun from the temple, Lu Yi and his wife from the Xiawang Mansion. Even Peerless City had sent representatives, their loyalty to the Sword Saint unwavering.
Xiongba, as leader, made a brief appearance, his voice steady as he welcomed the guests. The World Alliance spared no expense, offering feasts and fine drinks, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement.
But food and drink were mere preludes. Everyone knew the real spectacle awaited under the full moon.
As night deepened, a hush fell over the crowd. The moon hung like a silver coin in the sky, its light spilling over the martial arena. Xiongba sat on his throne, his face a mask of calm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of tension.
"Alex, who do you think has the edge tonight—Xiongba or the Sword Saint?"
Di Shitian's voice slid into Alex's ear, casual but sharp. The old man had slipped beside him, his gaze fixed on the arena.
"I'm part of the World Alliance. Of course, I hope our leader wins," Alex replied, his tone even as he glanced at Di Shitian.
"Hope is one thing. But what do you really think?" Di Shitian pressed, his smile unchanged, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Alex paused, then chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Honestly? I'd say the Sword Saint's cultivation runs deeper."
"Xiongba, I've arrived…"
A sudden tremor rippled through the air, the swords of countless warriors quivering in their sheaths. A fierce sword intent surged from the distance, growing stronger with each heartbeat. Then, a voice—strong, resonant—echoed across the night.
The Sword Saint!