The Vastness of Magical Destiny

The red hair curled up slightly, creating a peculiar onion-shaped coiffure that seemed a bit strange. The tight, polished leather armor looked unremarkable, but Solonberg believed it was by no means ordinary—it likely had some special functions that he couldn’t discern. The seemingly naive face looked more like that of an adolescent boy who hadn’t lost his youthful innocence. If it weren’t for the long sword that emitted bursts of fierce Sword Qi casually resting on his shoulder, Solonberg would have felt an impulse to sweep the opponent off the stage with a single thrust of his spear.

However, Solonberg lost that impulse the moment he saw the long sword. It was an absolutely unique blade with serrated edges forming a peculiar arc. The sword was thicker at both ends and thinner in the middle with several small holes, especially at the tip where a faint blue light gleamed, giving one chills down the spine. While ordinary people might simply find the sword odd and be unable to point out its true nature, to a knight like Solonberg, who had roamed far and wide, it was not hard to identify—it was a Soul Refining Sword!

The three small holes in the middle of the sword were the soul-refining star ports. It was said that the Soul Refining Sword had an exceptional effect against undead creatures. Almost as soon as the sword was drawn, the undead would fall, having no power to fight back under its edge. The mighty Mana inscribed on the sword used a special type of absorptive curse magic seal that could devour undead death energy on its own and attach it to the sword, enhancing the Sword Qi’s attack power. Even though the duration of this effect wasn’t very long, even a small enhancement on the battlefield could change the outcome.

For Solonberg, all this wasn’t too important. He was not undead, so he naturally wouldn’t fear the effects on the sword. But he knew that this sword represented someone, Martial Saint Aristotle. It was the Soul Refining Sword used by Martial Saint Aristotle in his youth, and after stepping into middle age, Aristotle no longer deemed it necessary to use such a weapon that relied on its own power to enhance the user’s strength. ’Today, appearing in this fellow’s hands undoubtedly means that this guy is his direct disciple.’

Aristotle was an immortal legend in the Martial Dao of the Blue Continent. Aside from the meteoric Martial God Plato from the West, almost no one dared to compare themselves to him. Although some Martial Arts Experts in the Northern Alliance always scorned to admit this fact, Solonberg knew well that behind a famous name there was always true talent. Aristotle’s unbeaten record across the Southern Continent for decades was not something that could be achieved by mere boasting. And as his direct disciple, there was definitely more than meets the eye.

The dark knight’s spear was lifted slightly, emitting a whistling sound as the faint Fighting Qi pierced through the air, pointing straight into the sky. Solonberg felt comfortable; the Lord’s unnamed magic had been used on him for the first time. The flow of power surged throughout his body, having been reinforced by enhancement magic, increasing his defensive power by at least one level. However, in a clash between experts, a slight increase in defensive power wouldn’t be of much use—a fatal strike was all too common in duels among the upper echelons.

On the other hand, the potential stimulation technique that the Lord had cast on him did make him feel different. Solonberg could clearly sense that his Fighting Qi, which usually reached the eighth level, could now easily break through to the ninth level. This one-level difference was enough to trample countless people underfoot. Although the Lord also made it clear to him that this could only temporarily boost his strength, he also told him that the effects of this temporary surge were very significant. It could not only allow him to experience higher-level control rules, but it could also sharpen his sensitivity to the outside world, which would greatly assist his attempts to break into higher levels in the future.

Kaiserlon looked up in surprise, glancing at his opponent; it’d been a long time since he had met a worthy adversary. Apart from the familiar Slupig, it seemed that hardly a few worthy opponents could be found in the Southern Mediterranean Region. Those aged so-called strong individuals hunkered down within their own strongholds, unwilling to show their faces just to maintain their dignity. Kaiserlon had wanted to simply go West or North to challenge those strong individuals, but his military duties prevented him from leaving the kingdom for too long. Otherwise, he was quite eager to see how exciting the world outside was.

Finally, he faced an opponent worthy of the name. The unique luster of the Knight Spear made Kaiserlon uncertain about what kind of material the weapon was made from, but it was definitely not something ordinary. Which was just as well, for his Soul Refining Sword finally had an opponent worth its mettle. Judging from the Spear Qi emanating from the tip of the opponent’s spear, it was clear that he had surpassed the stage of external Fighting Qi release. This was perfect; a one-sided and uneventful fight was truly tasteless and offered no aid to one’s improvement in martial arts. Kaiserlon did not wish to encounter a lopsided and uninspiring battle.

Solonberg took a deep breath. The whispering sound of the knight’s spear vanished instantly as he gave it a shake, transforming into a muffled sound like distant thunder. The air surrounding the knight’s spear at this moment seemed to become blurred and misty, signifying that Solonberg’s Cold Fighting Energy had reached its limit.

With a light step, a distance well over ten meters seemed to halve as Solonberg moved forward effortlessly. The knight’s spear, as if an extension of his arm, suddenly burst with the noise of dark thunder, creating a tremendous Spear Flower that engulfed nearly two meters in radius within its ferocious Fierce Wind.