Chapter 298
Chapter 298 Settle Old Scores on the Stormcairn River
High above the clouds, the sky twisted and shifted. The wind howled fiercely, lifting grains of sand off the ground and whipping dust into the air, sending it hurtling toward the gates.
Leander didn’t move a muscle, yet a wall of wind suddenly rose in front of him, blasting the dust away with force.
Darrow and several other generals, along with members of the Southern Wyvern Blade and personnel from the special ops training base, all looked up in unison–only to see a lone figure materialize out of thin air.
Though he hovered a hundred yards away, he wasn’t standing on anything–his feet rested on thin air as he rode the wind directly toward them. Eventually, he drew close.
He was an elderly man with an otherworldly presence: white robes billowing, long silver beard flowing, hands clasped behind his back. Under his feet, swirling air pulsed like ripples in a pond.
“What in the world p>
The crowd was stunned, jaws nearly hitting the floor.
This man floated in midair without the aid of any equipment or visible support. To them, it was the kind of scene one’d only expect in one of those foreign superhero blockbusters. None of them had ever imagined such a thing was possible in real life.
Could he be … some kind of earthly immortal?
Only Darrow and the other generals managed to keep calm. As high–ranking figures, they had access to top–level secrets and knew that extraordinary beings like the elderly did exist in the world. But even so, their eyes still flickered with awe. After all, they’d only seen records and descriptions–never the real thing.
“Jeff Ashcroft, one month has passed. I’ve come as promised p>
The elderly man’s voice rang out like thunder, his very presence exuding an oppressive force strong enough to crush stone beneath his feet. His energy was barely contained, flaring in and out like a flickering flame.
“So, you came after all.” Leander stood on the ground, slowly shaking his head. “Looks like you’ve made your choice p>
The elderly man’s eyes glinted with a strange light. Energy surged through his body so fiercely that the ground beneath him buckled ever so slightly. The wind picked up, clouds swirling overhead.
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You massacred the Tarlyn Guild back then and left us so disgraced we couldn’t lift our heads. You wiped out a century of our glory in a single day. Why wouldn’t I come? Today, I will take back everything you took from us. And I’ll show you what a real Tarlyn Guild master looks like. Remember my name–Tristan Tarlyn p>
The visitor was none other than Tristan, the second guildmaster of Tarlyn Guild, an Ember Transcendent.
From afar, Tristan and Olivia were already watching, eyes fixed in anticipation. This duel was tied to their guild’s hundred–year legacy and future destiny–there was no way they’d miss it.
“Well, this just got interesting.” Leander narrowed his eyes at Tristan, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
From what he could sense, Tristan‘ power eclipsed even the Lord of Umbral by several levels. In fact, if he had to compare, even three Lords of Umbral together might not measure up to one of the elderly men.
Tristan was, without a doubt, the most formidable opponent Leander had faced since he left seclusion. But there was no fear on his face–only growing excitement. The thrill of battle surged in his chest.
“Jeff Ashcroft, this fight between us is inevitable. Let’s not waste any more time. This is a military zone– too sensitive a place for us to fight. Let’s take it to the Stormcairn River and settle things there p>
Almost instantly, he turned and soared into the sky, a white streak flashing across the horizon.
Leander didn’t follow right away. He stood there, lost in thought, as if weighing something in his mind.
Darrow and the others looked toward him, thinking he might be hesitant. So, Darrow spoke up at once. “Chief Ashcroft, even though you’re stepping down today, your contributions to the Southern Wyvern Blade have already been reported to the nation. You’re a pillar of this country. If you don’t wish to take this fight, I’ll step in and negotiate on your behalf p>
As a captain general–one of the most senior commanders in all of Astria–Darrow carried weight even in front of a martial powerhouse like Tristan. He feared Leander might lose this battle, so he was ready to intervene.
Behind him, the core members of the Southern Wyvern Blade were visibly shaken, their expressions shifting in uncertainty. No one knew what to do,
Leander’s strength had long been seared into everyone’s minds. They held nothing but admiration for him, firmly believing he was the strongest fighter alive.
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But now, with Tristan descending like a force of nature, walking on air and radiating divine power, the sight was too overwhelming. He looked like a celestial being stepping down into the mortal world.
Leander was strong, yes–but at the end of the day, he was still just a man. How could he possibly defeat someone who seemed to float like a god?
“General Leon, stay out of this,” Leander said. “I’m a fighter. For someone like me, fists do the talking p>
The next second, he stomped the ground. A deep crater exploded beneath his feet, and in the next breath, he shot into the sky like a cannonball, slicing through the air toward the distance. Compared to Tristan, he was no slower–in fact, he was moving just a bit faster.
“Holy hell… Chief Ashcroft can do that, too?” Members of the Southern Wyvern Blade gasped, their faces filled with disbelief.
Darrow and the other generals exchanged looks. Then Darrow raised his hand and gave a crisp command. “Listen up! All Southern Wyvern Blade members are to suspend training
immediately. Form up and head to the Stormcairn River–we’re going to back Chief Ashcroft with everything we’ve got p>
Every soldier roared in response. “Yes,
sir p>
In an instant, winds whipped through the special ops training base. Military trucks rumbled to life and roared out of the compound, speeding toward the Stormcairn River.
At a calm stretch of the river, nestled between scenic banks, several cafes stood with open balconies for guests to enjoy the view. Poets, scholars, and martial travelers alike would visit this part of Cranfordale for a refreshment, admire the sweeping vistas, and soak in the grandeur of the Stormcairn.
At one of the viewing platforms, two men sat alone, quietly sharing drinks. Both carried an air of distinction. One of them wore a blue, traditional robe and had a gentle, refined face. He was none other than the master of the Hall of the Healing Sage, Roman Fleming.
The man across from him had a rougher face and a faintly dangerous edge. He was Atlas Leynthall, head of the Leynthall family–one of the Great Seven Martial Clans of Cloudveil.
The Hall of the Healing Sage was based not far from Cranfordale, and Atlas had recently obtained a rare spiritual herb. He had specifically requested to meet Roman, hoping the master alchemist could refine it into a pill to boost his cultivation.
The platform belonged solely to them. No one dared approach. Near the railing stood Theresa, her gaze fixed on the vast river below, eyes shadowed with thought.
“Roman,” Atlas said, “it’s been nine months since we last met on Glidewing Mountain. Your
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cultivation seems even harder to read now. Don’t tell me–you’ve reached Elite Sovereign p>
He looked at Roman with a hint of envy. Though both of them were Sovereigns, Roman had clearly advanced further.
Roman chuckled. “You flatter me, Atlas. I’m still a step away from that p>
They spoke like old friends, the conversation smooth and familiar.
“Honestly, watching Jeff ascend to legendary status during that fight at Glidewing Mountain shook me up more than I care to admit,” Atlas said with a sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if all these years I’ve spent training… have just been a waste p>
Roman let out a quiet sigh as well, his smile tinged with self–mockery. Compared to that monstrous talent, he and the other so–called Sovereigns were just decoration–no real presence, no true weight.
Theresa looked over at the two men, and her thoughts drifted back to the young man whose presence had shaken the heavens. Ever since the battle on Glidewing Mountain, she hadn’t seen Leander again, but his image lingered in her mind more often than she liked to admit.
Lately, stories of his legend had only grown more extraordinary, yet she hadn’t been able to see him in person since. That lingering sense of distance tugged at her heart.
“I wonder when he’ll shake up the martial world again,” she murmured with a soft sigh, her eyes shimmering.
Just then, she noticed something overhead–above the rooftop across from them, a streak of white was rushing through the air. It was someone flying, riding the wind.
“What is that?” Her eyes widened. It was the first time she’d ever seen someone flying like that.
Roman and Atlas turned sharply, stepping toward the railing as they focused their gazes skyward. Their expressions shifted in shock. Follow current novᴇls on
“Transcendent Realm p>
Though still Sovereigns themselves, both had studied the Transcendent Realm enough to recognize what they were seeing. Walking on air was the hallmark of that level.
It was the first time in all their years that they had ever seen someone from the Transcendent Realm in person.
“What’s a Transcendent doing here p>
Their eyes fixed on the unfamiliar figure of Tristan, both were stunned. But before they could process it, another streak of light soared in from behind him–faster, sharper.
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All three of them narrowed their eyes, and when they finally caught a clear look at the second figure’s face, their hearts jumped.
“That’s… Jeff Ashcroft p>
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