Chapter 98: Red Letter - License to Kill!

As Dao Wei stood on the ceremonial platform, a sense of calm washed over him. His golden wings, black and gold on each side, gently fluttered before receding into his back, leaving the stage bathed in a faint shimmer. The two Supreme Elders exchanged knowing glances, their eyes gleaming with approval. They had just bestowed upon him an honor that few could even dream of achieving in their lifetimes.

"From this moment forward, the Sword Childe shall be known as the Young Elder of the Sword God Sect," the voice of Second Supreme Elder Jianhong reverberated across the arena, filled with a sense of finality and authority. His words, though steady, carried weight far beyond the present moment. "By the decree of the Sect Elders, Dragon Peak shall now belong to him. Along with Dragon Peak, he is granted the service of 500 disciples."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Dao Wei, now the official master of Dragon Peak, held a title that was only surpassed by being crowned King itself. His position among the elite of the Sword God Sect was solidified.

Dao Wei remained unmoved, his golden hair gleaming under the afternoon sun, his eyes carrying the calm intensity of a brewing storm. He bowed slightly, his expression unreadable. There was no arrogance, only certainty.

Huang Ling, who stood among the Sword Kings, blushed as she stole glances at Dao Wei. She admired his demeanor—always composed, always a step ahead. The other disciples were left in awe, struggling to believe that such power and status had been achieved by someone who just a few days ago had been regarded as an outsider. But Dao Wei's ascension was undeniable now. He was not just a rising star—he was the Evil Star of the Sword God Sect.

"Hmpf!"

A sharp grunt disrupted the moment. Elder Chu Yafei, standing with his one-armed disciple Cheng Fang, could no longer bear the humiliation. His face contorted with rage and frustration as he turned sharply, his silver robes swaying violently in the wind.

"Enough of this farce," Chu Yafei growled under his breath, his eyes burning with disdain. He had just witnessed the highest level of humiliation—being overshadowed by someone he considered an inferior, an outsider.

Cheng Fang, his face twisted with fury, stepped toward his master. "Master, are we really just going to watch that demon take over?!" His voice trembled with anger, a mixture of frustration and desperation. His eyes were bloodshot, and the loss of his arm served as a painful reminder of his public defeat at Dao Wei's hands.

Chu Yafei sneered, his voice cold as steel. "Let's get back to our Peak first," he replied, his words laced with venom. "We will deal with him in no time. Don't worry, Fang'er." A wicked grin crept across his face as he mounted his magnificent Silver Eagle, the beast's colossal form casting a large shadow on the ground below.

The Silver Eagle, a magnificent beast of majestic stature with glimmering feathers that shimmered in the sunlight, flapped its massive wings, causing gusts of wind to scatter the nearby leaves. Its sharp talons gripped the earth, ready to soar into the skies.

Cheng Fang followed his master, but not before shooting a venomous glare in Dao Wei's direction. "I want him to pay for humiliating me in public," Cheng Fang spat, his voice filled with malice. "I will reclaim what's rightfully mine!"

As the Silver Eagle took off into the sky, its wings beat powerfully against the air, sending ripples of wind through the arena. Elder Chu Yafei and Cheng Fang soared above the Sword God Sect, the towering mountains of the sect becoming mere specks beneath them. The sky around them was vast, a sea of azure, with clouds lazily drifting by. The eagle's flight was smooth, cutting through the skies as if it owned the heavens.

Elder Chu Yafei glanced at his disciple, a glimmer of something akin to pity crossing his face. He could see the desperation in Cheng Fang's eyes, the need for revenge clouding his judgment. But Chu Yafei remained silent. For now, he would allow Cheng Fang to simmer in his anger, knowing full well that patience would yield the results they desired.

Far below, Dao Wei remained at the edge of the stage, disinterested in the spectacle of Chu Yafei's departure. His eyes, golden and radiant, scanned the horizon as though the events that had just transpired meant little to him. He was already beyond this petty squabble, his focus entirely elsewhere.

Around the Capital city of Jiangling, message talismans buzzed through the air, flying in all directions. The news of the new Sword Childe was spreading like wildfire. Within moments, the entire Commandery Capital was abuzz with excitement and speculation.

In the bustling streets, merchants paused their trade, their attention drawn to the floating talismans. Conversations erupted as the talismans relayed the news.

"The Evil Star has become the Sword Childe!" an older man muttered, his voice filled with awe as he read the message inscribed on the talisman.

"Evil Star…? The same Evil Star who defeated Cheng Fang?" a younger disciple asked in disbelief, his eyes widening.

"Yes, that's him!" the older man replied. "Word is the boy's descendant of a great demon lord. Who can stand against him?"

At a nearby tavern, a group of martial artists gathered around a table, their expressions filled with unease. "This isn't good news," one of them said, slamming his fist onto the table. "A new Sword Childe means trouble for the rest of us."

"Indeed," another added. "The Sword Childe represents not just the sect but the entire Mortal Realm's power structure. We need to prepare ourselves. If he truly ascends, it could upset the balance between the great sects."

While some whispered of Dao Wei's meteoric rise with excitement, others received the news with trepidation. In the grand halls of rival sects, elders sat in silence, their brows furrowed in thought.

"We need to keep an eye on him," The Grand Master Tang of the Taiji Sect murmured to his peers. "We cannot afford any mistakes."

"Do you think he's a threat?" one of the elders asked cautiously.

The Grand Master paused, weighing his words carefully. "Not yet. But soon. If he continues on this path, we may have to take measures."

Meanwhile elsewhere…

Within the majestic heights of an undisclosed mountain, shrouded in mist and mystery, stood a grand pavilion. It was a place of silent power, secluded from the chaos of the mortal world. Few knew of its existence, and even fewer dared approach it. Inside the pavilion's halls, five powerful elders, each a martial master in their own right, sat gracefully around a long ebony table. Two were seated on either side, while the most formidable of them all, the Hall Leader, occupied the iron throne at the far end of the room. The throne was adorned in grandeur, covered with runes that glowed faintly with an ancient power.

The room itself was dimly lit by a few glowing jade lanterns, casting long shadows over the stone floor. Despite the peaceful atmosphere, tension hung in the air, thick and oppressive.

"Do you think Yafei will deliver?" one of the old men sneered as he took a slow sip of tea. His voice was laced with skepticism, and his sharp eyes scanned the others for any sign of doubt.

Another elder, sitting across from him, leaned forward, his expression cold and disinterested. "He knows what awaits him if he fails," he said, his tone devoid of enthusiasm. The words were simple, yet they carried a heavy weight, enough to silence any further questioning for the moment.

A third elder, with a long white beard that cascaded over his robes, stroked it thoughtfully. "My fellow elders, we don't need to worry about this," he said in a soft voice. "Yafei did seem confident that his disciple would make it. Why don't we wait and see? There's no point in acting too rashly."

"Hmph!" 

The remaining two elders sneered simultaneously, clearly unimpressed by the elder's suggestion. They sipped their tea once again, choosing to remain silent, but their eyes were filled with disdain.

Bang!

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors of the pavilion burst open with a loud bang. The elders' heads snapped toward the entrance as a young disciple, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, stumbled inside. His face was pale, his eyes wide with panic. Whatever news he carried, it was urgent.

"Hall Leader! Hall Leader!" the disciple gasped as he hurried forward, falling to one knee in front of the iron throne.

The Hall Leader, who had been silently observing the exchange between the elders, finally spoke. His voice was low and commanding, with a dangerous edge that made the disciple tremble. "This better be good," he growled. "Explain yourself, quickly."

The disciple, visibly shaking, stretched his hands forward, revealing a crimson envelope sealed with a golden insignia. The sight of the envelope sent a shockwave through the room.

The five elders stood up in unison, their earlier confidence evaporating in an instant. The imposing air they carried with them just moments ago was now replaced with something else—fear. A deep, palpable fear. Their eyes widened as they recognized the crimson envelope.

"What… what is this?" one of the elders stammered, looking from the envelope to his fellow elders, searching their faces for answers.