Chapter 51: You Talk Like You Were Born An Immortal Straight Out Of Your Mothers c*nt!

In the far north of the Celestian Empire lay the frozen expanse known as the Sky Empire.

This land was trapped in eternal winter, its icy winds cutting through the air like blades.

Snow piled high on the jagged mountain peaks, while frost clung to every surface.

The cold was relentless, seeping into bones and making it nearly impossible for mortals to survive. For them, every breath here was a battle, as their very blood threatened to freeze within their veins.

Despite these harsh conditions, the Sky Empire had stood for centuries, as ancient as the Celestian Empire itself.

The current Sky Emperor, filled with ambition and envy, had long coveted the fertile lands of the Celestian Empire.

To him, those warmer lands represented power and prosperity, a stark contrast to the barren, icy wastelands he ruled.

His desire to claim the Celestian territory was not just for expansion, but for survival.

The Empire’s resources were dwindling, and conquering their southern neighbor was a necessity for the continued dominance of his dynasty.

...

At the far edge of the Sky Empire’s vast territory, nestled within a frigid valley where even a single step would freeze a mortal into an icy statue, a grand palace loomed from the swirling mist, veiled by an aura of cold that seemed to ward off all who dared to approach.

Its walls seemed to make of translucent ice that shimmered under the pale sunlight, casting eerie reflections that danced across the frozen ground.

The spires of the palace pierced the sky, resembling fangs of some ancient beast, while the courtyard was adorned with sculptures of frost — dragons and wolves frozen in mid-snarl, as if ready to pounce.

Inside, the silence was thick, almost oppressive, as if the very air was too heavy with cold to carry sound.

Within this hauntingly beautiful palace, two young men dressed in black robes hurried down a vast corridor.

The symbol of a crimson sky was emblazoned on their backs, marking them as outer court disciples of the Crimson Sky sect’s.

Their footsteps echoed in the eerie stillness as they approached a large, ornate door.

Knock! Knock!

A few moments later, the door creaked open, a sliver of darkness spilling into the room.

"What’s the matter?" came a deep, impatient voice from within the shadows, its tone sharp enough to slice through the quiet, yet carrying an unsettling stillness that lingered in the cold air.

Within the mist, a figure could be seen sitting cross-legged, barely distinguishable from the swirling vapors.

Its silhouette flickered, as if the very air around it warped and shifted, making it impossible to tell if the figure was real or merely an illusion conjured by the fog.

One of the young men, trembling slightly, stammered as he spoke, his voice full of respect, "S-senior brother Jason... it’s about Knox."

There was a moment of silence before the voice responded, colder than the air outside, "What about him?"

The disciple swallowed hard before continuing, "H... he and his group went to the Celestian Empire two days ago to meet the new disciple we recently recruited."

The young man swallowed hard, his throat dry with fear, "Y-yes, Senior Brother. One man survived... but he’s not from our sect."

His voice wavered as he forced out the next words, "He’s a prince... of the Celestian Empire."

Jason’s eyes flickered with momentary intrigue, his brow furrowing as the new information stirred something within him.

A Prince? Why would the Azure Sword Sect let a mere mortal live? It made no sense — those cowards wouldn’t leave evidence behind unless... unless there was more at play.

"Why let a mortal walk away unscathed, even if he poses no threat?" Jason mused, his voice now laced with cold suspicion, the gears of his mind turning.

Just as he was about to ask more, a sudden vibration pulsed from within the folds of his robe, drawing his attention.

He reached in and produced a thin piece of parchment, inscribed with incomprehensible symbols that glimmered faintly in the dim light.

As he held the parchment aloft, the paper radiated a soft, eerie glow, illuminating his features in the encroaching darkness.

The ethereal light danced in the air around him, casting an otherworldly sheen across his face and highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the predatory glint in his eyes.

In an instinctive motion, he drew upon his Spiritual Energy, channeling it through his fingertips and releasing it into the parchment.

The symbols flared to life, swirling in a chaotic rhythm, and the atmosphere crackled with a potent energy, amplifying the coldness in the air.

Suddenly, from the depths of the thin paper, a mocking voice emerged, laced with a sinister undertone, "Jason, did you like my gift?"

The voice echoed around him, its tone dripping with sardonic amusement.

Jason’s expression immediately darkened, a storm of intrigue and annoyance swirling in his gaze.

"Xander! Are you the one who killed them? Does your Azure Sword sect wish to break the rules?" His voice boomed with authority, reverberating off the stone walls.

"Rules!?" Xander chuckled, the sound reverberating as if he were enjoying a private joke, "Ah, but the rules also state not to interfere in the affairs of mortals, don’t they?"

Jason clenched his fists, his patience wearing thin.

"All this, for a few worthless mortals?" His voice was laced with contempt, the tension in the air growing heavier, "You’d risk war with my sect over something so insignificant? How arrogant!"

Each word seemed to weigh down the space between them, charged with the promise of impending conflict.

A brief silence followed, thick and suffocating, until Xander’s voice cut through like a blade, smooth yet dripping with condescension.

"Heh! You talk like you were born an immortal straight out of your mother’s c*nt!" Xander sneered, his eyes gleaming with disdain.

"And do you really think you’ve the balls to start a war on behalf of your Crimson Sky Sect? Can you even handle the consequences of such reckless sh!t?"

Jason’s fury flared, but he forced himself to remain calm, his mind racing with calculations.

His gaze hardened, "Xander, Knox was carrying my ten spirit stones and a Movement Talisman. Return those, and I’ll forget this entire incident. The sect doesn’t need to get involved."

His tone was sharp, authoritative, as if delivering a final ultimatum, daring Xander to defy him.