HUMMMMM!

A radiant slash of sword energy—shining like a torrent of celestial lightning—carved through the air, severing the view of the assembled cultivators from the blinding glare of the Moon Flower.

For a brief moment, the overwhelming aura radiating from the celestial artifact was halted by the tempestuous sword art unleashed by Commander Yarko. The kinetic impact caused a seismic tremor, detonating near the base of the bluff where the artifact hovered.

A localized landslide cascaded down the cliffside, and the explosive impact destroyed nearby ancient trees, momentarily rattling the greedy crowd. Commander Yarko stepped forward, his face etched with absolute gravity.

"Cease this madness at once! Every school must place its trust in military defense command and the continental advisors to manage the artifact! You must believe in our unity as the righteous alliance!"

Yarko's voice boomed across the coastal plain. Flanked by Master Gonan, he surged forward, believing the martial artists had regained a shred of composure. Yarko closed the distance toward the Moon Flower, aiming to secure it before the crowd snapped. If defense command safeguarded the artifact, no single academy could claim ownership, eliminating any justification for internal bloodshed.

Without a central authority securing the prize, rival sects would inevitably accuse one another of hoarding divine power, reigniting the slaughter.

Yet just as Commander Yarko's hand reached toward the Moon Flower near the summit of the bluff...

A blinding arc of energy slashed through the air at terrifying velocity. It manifested as a long, crackling whip infused with high-density binding mana. The sheer kinetic shockwave generated by the strike forced Commander Yarko backward, compelling him to instantly deploy an internal aura shield.

Though caught off guard, Yarko's battle instincts were supreme. He absorbed the recoil with a swift backstep, bringing his vessel to a firm halt to neutralize the whip's kinetic pressure.

The attack had been unleashed by an elder cultivator wielding a long, white-bearded visage—Moura, the Grandmaster of the Sacred Flame Sect. Masters of fire-elemental aura, his disciples coated their armaments in volatile thermal magic.

Plausibly enough, Yarko had detected an intense wave of thermal pressure emanating from the whip. Yet he was stunned that Moura—a renowned senior figure of the Frost Line continent—had struck out to prevent him from securing the Moon Flower.

"Forgive us, Commander Yarko," Moura declared boldly, holding his flame-engulfed whip steady. "However, we cannot permit you or central command to seize and hoard the Moon Flower as you have done with artifacts in the past."

Moura spoke without hesitation. Recognized across the Frost Line continent as one of its supreme cultivators, his parameters had been lauded even by Advisor Silvi. Yet owing to his rigid, uncooperative temperament during council deliberations, the regional seats had passed him over, appointing Silvi as chief advisor instead.

"Why take this stance, Elder Moura?" Commander Yarko reasoned, attempting to appeal to his sense of duty. "If the central alliance and defense command secure the artifact together, the righteous sects can trust that its ultimate purpose will be decided collectively through fair council—for the benefit and peace of all cultivators."

Yarko sought to enlighten the crowd, hoping the surrounding martial artists would recognize his noble intent to protect the Moon Flower from being torn apart in a bloody free-for-all.

"Save your grand speeches, Commander Yarko!" Moura countered, his voice carrying over the crowd. "Not today! You, military defense command, and the high council have monopolized the Heart Dragon for decades. You reinforced your own parameters, leveraging celestial artifacts to establish absolute dominance over every independent school across the five continents!

"You demanded reverence from the sects, using your stockpiled strength to dictate terms. And then, you casually announced that the Heart Dragon was destroyed during a private experiment!

"Do you honestly expect us to believe your lies? Even if we conceded that you acted in the interest of the realm, how can we know you aren't harboring covert ambitions to keep us subjugated—forcing us to remain weak dependencies that perpetually require your 'protection'?! Not today! We shall secure the Moon Flower ourselves to empower the independent academies, freeing our lineages from relying on military command and the central alliance!"

Moura's fiery rhetoric deftly dismantled Yarko's explanation, twisting his intentions into a narrative of political oppression. His words ignited a wave of resentment among the crowd, stoking fears that central command had systematically undermined independent schools to maintain absolute control.

For years, minor academies had felt patronized by central command's protective doctrine, feeling relegated to inferior standings.

It was precisely the narrative Moura sought to exploit. Provoked by his speech, the crowd's anger boiled over into open rebellion.

"Elder Moura, you slander our sacred oath!" Yarko shouted back, his voice firm. "Defense command has never sought to subjugate the martial world! Our sole mandate is to preserve global peace and stand united against the dark army!"

Yet Yarko's defense fell on deaf ears. Enraged by Moura's instigation, the cultivators readily embraced the narrative. In truth, their agreement was not born of genuine trust in Moura, but rather out of a desperate desire to justify their own greed for the Moon Flower. By painting central command as corrupt, they rationalized their urge to seize the celestial artifact.

The crowd erupted into total chaos. Disregarding all authority, hundreds of cultivators charged toward the summit. Yarko swung his spellsword, deploying high-density energy barriers to block their advance, while Master Gonan manifested multi-layered defensive arrays to seal off the bluff.

Yarko and Gonan strove desperately to keep the crowd away from the Moon Flower, knowing that if rival sects reached the artifact simultaneously, an apocalyptic massacre would erupt over its possession.

That was the tragedy Yarko sought to prevent. Blinded by ambition, the righteous alliance was on the verge of turning on itself—a self-destructive conflict that would cripple human defenses just as the dark army prepared to strike.

Cultivators joined forces to bombard the defensive arrays erected by Yarko and Gonan. Seeing their commanders under fire while striving to preserve the peace, the regular military task force intervened, launching non-lethal aura blasts to subdue the advancing crowd without inflicting fatal wounds.

Violent skirmishes erupted across every quadrant of the coastal plain as the field descended into absolute turmoil. Observing the escalating chaos, Barsha's expression hardened.

"Sky Squad!" Barsha commanded, turning to the fully assembled vanguard. "Reinforce military defense command! Remember—do not inflict fatal wounds on fellow cultivators! Suppress their stances only if forced!"

Leaving her orders behind, Barsha blurred toward the summit at blinding velocity. Understanding the gravity of the crisis, the remaining Sky Squad members moved to execute her command, plunging into the chaotic melee to support regular military units with their refined techniques.

The battlefield devolved into an uncoordinated brawl. Trust had evaporated entirely; every external cultivator was viewed with paranoid suspicion, as each faction sought the Moon Flower for itself. Cultivators struck down anyone within range who wore an unfamiliar crest, completely consumed by the allure of supreme power.

Lao and Gayatri surged into the fray, deploying high-yield support techniques to sever clashing lines. Gayatri manifested giant, shield-bearing light constructs to absorb incoming spells, guiding them with precision to separate brawling sects.

Beside her, Lao unleashed high-frequency wind currents, deflecting incoming blade strikes and redirecting explosive aura blasts away from vulnerable targets.

Alicia, Astro, Nagada, and the rest of the vanguard followed suit. Though exhausted from their recent, high-intensity battles against the dark army and the Four Gates, they threw themselves into the crowd to save the righteous sects from their own greed.

They recognized that quelling internal division was an essential part of their mandate to eradicate the dark forces. Only a united alliance could hope to halt Lord Demon Shura's global invasion.

If the righteous sects slaughtered one another over an artifact, humanity would fall, leaving the continents defenseless before the dark army.

Every Sky Squad member worked frantically to break up the clashes—save for Aji.

Aji remained standing near the edge of the clearing, his fists clenched so tightly his frame trembled. Standing beside him, Dasatama observed the chaos, weighing whether to intervene directly by deploying his ultimate authority as the legendary God of War.

Aji's mind flashed back twenty years—remembering how the martial academies had squandered their strength in petty squabbles, ignoring warnings regarding Lord Demon Shura's revival to pursue personal gain. Paranoia, greed, and factional politics had fractured human unity back then as well.

If history repeated itself today, humanity was doomed. Shura's legions would sweep across the five continents unopposed. If the righteous alliance surrendered to greed once more, what had been the point of his return after twenty years? What of the sacred mandate entrusted to him by Yonan and Ganada?

Never again!

Aji's hands trembled violently as an unfathomable volume of celestial aura erupted from his core.

Just as Dasatama prepared to step onto the field to back Commander Yarko, he froze, sensing a sudden spike in energy beside him. He turned toward the enigmatic youth named Aji, who had remained quiet throughout the conflict.

Dasatama's eyes widened in disbelief at the sheer density of the aura condensing around the young warrior. High-voltage energy pulses rippled outward, distorting the atmospheric space surrounding Aji's vessel as his core drew in atmospheric mana at an impossible rate.

Dasatama stared in absolute shock. What is this terrifying power?!

The aura radiating from Aji felt intimately familiar—transporting Dasatama's mind back more than twenty years, to the day he had been defeated in a single breath before he could even register a movement. It was the absolute, unyielding domain of Saint Thunder Striker!