Teacher by day, Farmer by passion

Ace raised his other hand; his fingers slicing through the air like a conductor mid-symphony and slashed.

A torrent of roots, jagged branches, and shimmering blood spiraled together into a deadly helix, whistling toward Amon with vengeance and violence.

But Amon simply tilted to the side, gliding away with the ease of a man dodging rain, his cane spinning once in lazy amusement.

Ace frowned as he muttered.

Show-off.

From atop the gate, Grand Elder Lily's voice rang like thunder laced with starlight.

"Enough waiting, let's show these fools why we're called the Sky High Sect!"

Her robes flared dramatically as if the wind itself bowed in agreement.

At her call, the elders leapt into action like awakened legends from ancient scrolls.

Elder Mati descended first, and not alone.

She rode Bryan—the massive, terrifying, and majestic Sovereign Spirit Wolf of Shan Yifeng.

Yes, that Bryan. The ancient spirit said to be untamable….

…except apparently Mati, who had not only tamed him but turned him into her furry war steed.

Pity poor Shan Yifeng—still trapped in the void, completely unaware that his lifelong companion had been recruited, ridden, and possibly fed biscuits by someone else.

Bryan howled, and the skies trembled.

Disciples below clenched the railing in awe—and minor panic.

Mati and Bryan's arrival was, frankly, overwhelming.

The other elders stepped up… but how could they compete?

A Grand Elder, Akha.

A peak Legend. A level five pill master. Sleeves billowing, golden pills dancing around her like obedient suns...

Majestic—sure.

But next to a raging spirit wolf the size of a house, even his alchemical drama seemed like the opening act to a rock concert.

Xi Chun followed.

Ethereal. Serene. Seated midair like a moon goddess…

Then came Xi Chun—gentle, elegant, ethereal.

She seated herself cross-legged in midair, guqin shimmering before her.

She plucked a single note.

Wuuung…

The sound danced like moonlight through the battlefield, and several enemy soldiers visibly swayed, their swords clattering to the snow as their eyes glazed.

Mass hypnosis—Xi Chun's signature.

And yet, even that wonder was briefly overshadowed… by the strangest duo the sect had to offer.

Shane and Tushan.

A man who could turn even poisoned mushrooms into a five-star meal.

And a miser girl who could whip up edible (debatable) meals from things like bark, moss, and air.

The battlefield parted for them… and their wok.

Yes, a wok.

Tushan hoisted it like a divine artifact, steam still rising.

Shane carried a sack of ingredients slung over one shoulder and a grin that said, "Just watch."

The disciples lining the inner wall peeked through their barricades and froze.

That was a wok.

On a battlefield.

"...Is that… allowed?" one whispered.

Ace, watching it all unfold, couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips.

"Well, just in case…"

With a flick of his hand, he opened multiple glowing gates, dozens of them, ripping space like a zipper on the world's most chaotic jacket.

From within burst a flood of spirits.

Not one. Not ten.

Two hundred and sixty.

Each one unique. Each one unannounced. Each one his.

The sky filled with spectral colors, creatures made of flame, mist, steel, shadows, vines, even pure sound.

The battlefield paused in collective disbelief.

Ace floated above it all like a smug celestial DJ watching his playlist hit the crowd just right.

"This is just like that movie," he muttered, grinning. "The one with all the portals and the giant purple guy…"

Down below, for the first time, Amon's confident expression flickered.

Just briefly, it was a crack of concern but his worry was entirely justified.

BOOM!

The earth shattered as Bryan, with Elder Mati still atop his back, crashed into the center of the Tharz Kingdom's formation like a meteor wrapped in fur and fury.

Winds howled. Snow exploded. Soldiers flew.

Mati didn't hold back.

She wasn't even trying to be elegant.

She was pissed about something.

And Bryan?

He also looked like he was enjoying the carnage. As if days of pent-up stress were being released on this day.

As the shockwave rolled over the battlefield, even the most seasoned warriors flinched.

This is madness!" Amon shouted, his voice cracking for the first time as explosions rippled across the snowfields and spirits screamed overhead like a storm of ghosts.

Ace didn't flinch.

He didn't even blink.

He just grinned.

"Yes," Ace said, his tone eerily calm. "This is madness."

But while Amon's voice held panic, Ace's voice carried a dangerous thrill.

Their expressions were worlds apart—Amon recoiling in disbelief at the chaos spiraling around him…

Ace, basking in it.

And then—

Whoosh!

Ace surged forward like a bullet, a comet of silver light crashing straight toward the so-called tactician.

Amon barely had time to adjust his monocle before the gap between them vanished.

Power collided with power. Will slammed into experience.

Yes, Amon had lived longer.

Yes, Amon had studied more techniques, mastered subtle arts, learned how to slip a blade beneath pleasantries and poison through elegance.

But—

Ace had something else.

He was reckless.

Because he knew—

His Void-grade cloak wasn't there just to look cool.

It has its own unique function.

It swallowed damage like a black hole, reducing the brunt of enemy attacks down to ten percent of their full power as long as they were under divine halo realm.

And Amon?

Amon was still "just" a peak Legend.

Which meant…

Ace could afford to be crazy.

He could afford to play.

And he was done playing careful.

BOOM!

Their clash sent a sonic ripple through the battlefield. Snow lifted in waves.

Spirit beasts shrieked. Even the wind paused.

Ace's furious charge met Amon's poised defense—the crack of impact echoing like a war drum.

He swung wildly but each strike had weight, each step was calculated chaos.

Amon parried, deflected, slid back—

—but Ace didn't let up.

Because now, he wasn't just fighting to defend the sect.

He was fighting with the joy of someone who knew the rules…

…and decided to break them anyway.

In that instant, as sword met cane, as spirit energy flared like northern lights above a frozen hellscape—

Madness didn't seem so bad.

It looked a lot like freedom.