Chapter 92

Chapter 92: Do You Dare?

“Greetings, Emperor,” Wang Jie said.

Jun Hua studied him. “Where have you been?”

“Does the Emperor truly not know,” Wang Jie asked, “or are you pretending not to know?”

“I truly don’t know. I only heard through Senior Sister Jin Chu that you participated in a mission.”

Wang Jie met Jun Hua’s gaze. “The mission was simple. Go to the Ninth Star Chain, meet a creature, retrieve an item, and hand it to the Frost Splendor Sect.”

“You completed it?” Yu Dong blurted, surprised.

It sounded light, but it was clearly a brush with death. How could a Ten Seals cultivator come and go freely in the Ninth Star Chain?

Wang Jie didn’t give details. He had no intention of revealing his identity as a Chen Refiner—or the guest elder matter—yet. He would speak once Domain Lord Ning returned.

For now, he wanted only one thing: to cultivate quietly.

The quieter, the better.

A Ten Seals Chen Refiner who cultivated lockforce was far too conspicuous. Enemies would come.

The Ninth Star Chain couldn’t possibly have no spies hidden in the Eighth Star Chain—otherwise the Frost Splendor Sect wouldn’t have needed the Silver Radiance Empire’s secret cooperation to keep everything sealed.

He was still too fragile.

When Wang Jie left, Yu Dong’s expression darkened. “You were right. Something’s off. That mission was meant to kill him.”

Jun Hua nodded slowly. “Senior Sister Jin Chu said the mission was reserved for a True Inheritance Disciple. She told us not to wait for his return. If Wang Jie came back anyway… then someone beyond the Frost Splendor Sect’s plans must have intervened.”

They both thought of Jia Yi Sect.

Neither of them even considered Chen Refiners.

Jun Hua’s gaze turned distant. “Good thing we kept the Lakeside Residence.”

—

Wang Jie had been back at the Lakeside Residence for ten days.

For ten days, he did little but practice swordwork.

The battle technique called Sword Rig fascinated him. The truth was, he didn’t even understand how it worked.

He stood in the middle of the lake—the most secluded part of the Lakeside Residence, isolated on all sides. Ordinary eyes couldn’t reach here.

Dozens of swords lay scattered at his feet. With a thought, one sword rose and hovered in front of him, tip aimed forward. A second followed, then a third, until nine swords floated in a line before him.

He lifted his hand. The nine swords snapped upright together.

Slash.

They twisted through the air in spiraling arcs and cut into the lake. The power was intentionally small—he wasn’t trying to make a scene. He was only testing.

When the nine swords surged back up from the water, more swords flew out from the shore and rushed to join them, assembling and reassembling into a lotuslike formation that opened in a circle from the center.

A sword shield.

Then the swords kept shifting in his control. They condensed into weapons, reshaped into beasts, took on countless forms—flowers, grass, anything.

He wasn’t even linking them with lockforce, and yet the swords were connected. When lockforce flowed along the blades and poured into them, it spread through every sword in an instant.

And in that instant, the shape formed by the swords felt alive.

Dozens of swords combined into a pair of wings. They moved like real wings. With lockforce reinforcing them, the wings seemed to glow.

Wang Jie tried again.

A sword cracked.

Then another.

In the next breath, the entire formation shattered, ruined.

Wang Jie let out a slow sigh. Again.

Every attempt ended this way.

He wanted to pour lockforce into the swords and see what the combat power detector would read.

With a single sword, lockforce worked fine. But Sword Rig was different.

The swords bore a strange pressure, something beyond ordinary reinforcement.

Normal blades simply couldn’t handle it.

Unless the material was exceptional, even a Chen artifact would shatter.

Sword Rig didn’t care about the strength of starforce or lockforce; it demanded quality—weapon quality. It was simple, brutal, almost absurdly direct.

“Lord, these are the swords you asked for.”

Cheng Qian returned with servants carrying a pile of swords. They laid them out in neat rows.

Wang Jie made a vague sound of acknowledgment. Once they withdrew, his gaze swept over the blades.

All of them rose at once, drifting toward him, assembling into a humanoid figure made entirely of swords. Driven by Wang Jie’s will, the sword-figure walked, leapt, and executed battle techniques with eerie smoothness.

How did Sword Rig do this?

No one had taught him. So why could he control them?

The only explanation he could find was that woman.

When the swords shattered again, Wang Jie left the estate and found Su Ying Yu. He bought all her best catastrophe materials.

They weren’t expensive. He was worth nearly three million starstones now; spending a fraction was nothing.

Su Ying Yu was grateful. She also mentioned the Lakeside Residence had been buying swords in bulk lately, and she would help keep an eye out.

That was the point.

Cheng Qian’s circle couldn’t compare to hers.

Unfortunately, the weapons the Mad Clan had made him star-refine included almost no swords. The Mad Clan were big-bodied and favored battleaxes, warhammers, chains—heavy weapons, not blades.

Even without good swords, Wang Jie didn’t only practice swordwork.

He also cultivated Qi Refining as a secondary path to support Chen Art, and trained Jia Eight Steps and Huang Dou.

He had too much to do.

First, he needed to deepen the color of his seals. Silver Radiance Art couldn’t do it anymore. Sorrowwater Art could, but he still lacked materials.

On top of that, strengthening his overall combat power was urgent.

Qi had saved his life—he’d only recognized Xia Bei Yi because of it. Without that, he might never have escaped the Ninth Star Chain.

So he had to cultivate qi, and cultivate it well.

Jia Eight Steps was for survival. Chen Art mattered least—but Qi Refining could support Chen Art, letting him gain two benefits at once.

To train Jia Eight Steps and Huang Dou, he asked Jun Hua for a gravity planet.

Over a hundred times normal gravity—high enough to tear apart the weak.

Three months later, Wang Jie ran a self-check.

In a normal state, his combat power was ten thousand—already at Star-Breaking Realm strength.

If he unleashed the full hundredfold strength, it crossed thirty thousand. And at his peak—when the two streams of qi fused—his combat power reached fifty thousand.

That was the starting line of the Full-Star Realm.

And he was still only Ten Seals.

Who would believe it? At Ten Seals, he had Full-Star Realm starting combat power. That meant most Star-Breaking Realm fighters in the universe couldn’t match him. Anyone who could fight him at the same level had to be a true genius.

He wanted to test himself.

The first person he thought of was the Silver Radiance Empire’s former War God—Xuan.

The one who had helped Jun Tang oppose Jun Hua, only to be defeated by Yu Dong.

Xuan might be enough to measure Wang Jie’s current limits.

Wang Jie thought of him partly because Xuan still hadn’t submitted to Jun Hua.

Jun Hua had even delegated authority: whoever could make Xuan yield and “confess” Jun Tang’s co-conspirators would be rewarded heavily.

Jun Tang couldn’t have tried to seize the empire on his own. Jun Hua had already purged many of his supporters, yet some still lingered.

Wang Jie couldn’t understand why Xuan was so loyal to Jun Tang.

He went to the Imperial Capital’s prison for cultivators. Here, starforce and lockforce were stripped on a schedule, shackles were applied, and drugs were administered to ensure no one could escape.

In the deepest level, Wang Jie finally saw Xuan.

The dungeon was dim. Heavy chains clinked softly. The guards on either side saluted Wang Jie and withdrew.

They’d seen many people come to persuade Xuan. Every one of them had failed.

Wang Jie approached. In the shadows, a figure sat cross-legged, head lowered. Dry, dark hair fell over his face. Shackles bound both arms and legs, chains running into the walls.

Each shackle was as thick as an arm—absurdly strong.

Even in this prison, this treatment was unique.

Wang Jie stepped closer.

“Lord,” someone warned from afar, “please stop outside the white line. If you cross it, you’ll enter his attack range.”

Wang Jie looked down at the white stripe on the floor. “He attacks?”

“He has. The Imperial Finance Minister—no one knows what was said, but he was lured inside and killed with one palm.”

Wang Jie’s eyes narrowed. He lifted his foot and stepped over the white line.

The guard tensed but said nothing more. He’d warned him.

The moment Wang Jie crossed, Xuan’s head snapped up.

Eyes like ice locked onto Wang Jie. The air itself seemed to thicken, as if a predator had fixed its gaze on prey.

“You’re not afraid of dying?” Xuan’s voice rolled through the dungeon.

Prisoners nearby shrank back, fear written on their faces.

Wang Jie met his stare. “The former War God reduced to a prisoner. Shackled to a wall.” He tilted his head. “Pathetic.”

Xuan’s gaze stayed cold. “Purpose. Background.”

“Wang Jie,” he said. “I live at the Lakeside Residence. I’m here to make you submit.”

At the mention of the Lakeside Residence, Xuan’s eyes sharpened. “What are you to Jun Hua?”

Wang Jie kept walking toward him.

Far away, guards hurried to report. Whoever had the authority to enter here couldn’t be insignificant. If he died inside Xuan’s range, it would be a disaster.

Xuan watched Wang Jie approach, starforce suppressed, drugs dulling his body, yet his killing intent sharpened all the same.

“I live at the Lakeside Residence because of something I did,” Wang Jie said.

He stopped within five meters of Xuan—well within striking distance.

“I killed Jun Tang.”

Xuan’s eyes widened violently. “What did you say?”

“Jun Tang died by your hand?” he demanded, voice tight.

Wang Jie lifted his chin. “Do I not look like it?”

Xuan stared at him with predatory intensity. “They said the one who killed Jun Tang died too. So it was a lie.” His voice dropped. “You’re not afraid I’ll slap you to death?”

“If I were afraid, I wouldn’t be here.” Wang Jie smiled faintly. “How about a bet?”

“A bet on what?”

“A bet that you can’t kill me,” Wang Jie said, “but I can kill you.”

Xuan stared at him, then burst into laughter that echoed through the dungeon. “Kid, you’re only Ten Seals. I’m Full-Star Realm. Even with my starforce removed, I’m not someone a Ten Seals can compare to. What makes you dare say that?”

Wang Jie reached to the side, grabbed a thick chain, and yanked.

The chain tore out of the wall like it was rooted in sand. The prison shook; dust exploded into the air.

An alarm blared. “Lord! What are you doing?”

Wang Jie yanked out a second chain. Cracks spidered across the stone.

Then he stomped down on the chains binding Xuan’s legs and crushed them. The solid floor dented beneath his foot.

Xuan’s pupils trembled.

These chains were built for him. They could restrain the peak of the Star-Breaking Realm.

And a Ten Seals just shattered them.

With four chains destroyed, Xuan was free—though his starforce was still suppressed and the drugs still lingered.

Wang Jie tossed him a pile of starstones. “Recover your starforce. Use it to counter the drugs.” He folded his arms. “I’ll wait.”

Xuan stared. “You’re serious?”

Wang Jie’s smile sharpened. “Do you dare?”

Xuan nodded once. “Fine. As long as no one interferes, I’ll play with you.”

“No one will interfere,” Wang Jie said.