Chapter 685: Red Dragon and Swordsman, Crisis and Fireworks

In the year 1007 of the New Calendar, several years had already passed since the Millennium Celebration.

The night was draped like a curtain, the wind across the grasslands carried the fresh scent of green grass as it flowed gently, the sky was thick with stars hanging so low they seemed within reach.

A sword light was flowing through the night.

It was gentle, its trajectory unhurried, like a silver fish swimming leisurely through the deep sea. Where the blade passed, the tips of grass bent slightly before springing back up...

Holding the sword was a young man.

His figure was tall and straight, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. The night blurred the details of his face but highlighted the lines of his silhouette—a full forehead, a straight nose bridge, and a clean, sharp jawline. He looked like a sharp, straight sword.

It was Reinhardt.

Dressed in plain white robes, twin swords spinning between his fingers, the blades sliced through the night wind, sending grass blades scattering through the air.

Under his control, the sword light sometimes surged like a great river, sometimes poured down like moonlight. The severed grass tips and startled fireflies floated in mid-air, carried by the sword wind, forming a slowly rotating ring of stars around the young man.

A beautiful scene.

It didn't look like sword practice at all—it looked like dancing with the entire night.

And in fact, that was exactly what he was doing. He was merely dancing with the blade, no technique or form, letting his body stretch naturally following the instinct of the sword edge.

Not far away, a young girl in a red dress sat on the grass with her knees hugged to her chest, her eyes sparkling brightly. Her vivid red dress spread out around her like a flame in the night wind—bright, dazzling, making the surrounding darkness seem to retreat in deference.

Philista rested her chin on her hand, her gaze glued to Reinhardt.

From his shoulder line down to his waist, then from the sword light at his fingertips back to his sharp brows and eyes—back and forth, she could never tire of looking.

After a long while, the sword light converged and the grass blades fell to the ground.

Reinhardt let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders and back gradually relaxing. The twin swords spun once in his palms before he casually plunged them into the earth beside him.

"Beautiful! So beautiful!"

Philista jumped up immediately, her red dress twirling into a flower, then bounded over to the swordsman in three quick steps. She tilted her face up to look at him and said, "My dear Reinhardt, the way you dance with your sword is the most beautiful sight in the entire world."

Reinhardt couldn't help but curve his lips into a smile. Before he could respond, Philista had already risen onto her tiptoes, reaching out to press her fingers against his forehead.

"Here, let me wipe your sweat for you."

She stood on her toes, using her slender fingers to dab at his forehead and the side of his neck. Her movements were gentle, but her body kept getting closer and closer, her fingers casually brushing across the swordsman's jaw and Adam's apple.

"Are you done yet?"

"No." Philista answered immediately, her fingers rubbing against his cheeks a couple more times before slowly tracing down his jawline to the side of his neck.

Reinhardt let her continue wiping for a few more moments, then suddenly felt something was off.

"...I don't recall sweating at all."

"It's cold sweat." Philista said without changing her expression, completely deadpan. "The kind only you can see. I say you have it, so you have it."

As she spoke, she stopped bothering to pretend altogether. She just looked at him with a beaming, unblinking stare, her gaze burning hot.

Reinhardt felt a bit awkward under her intense gaze. He turned his head slightly, avoiding her eyes.

Philista immediately caught that little shift.

"Oh my... are you blushing?" She tilted her head, her red lips curling up, her tone full of sheer confidence: "You look so good, isn't it just so I can look at you? What's wrong with me taking a few extra glances? It's not like I'm charging you for it."

At that, Reinhardt gently took the hand that had somehow found its way to his chest and moved it away.

"Appearance should not be the standard by which a person is judged."

As he spoke, the solemnity forged through years of discipline surfaced on his brow. His brows furrowed slightly, his lips pressed into a straight line.

"Philista, my looks are the least remarkable thing about me. If I had a choice, I would ask you to judge me by other standards—my swordsmanship, my will, my character. These are things I forged through my own effort. My appearance is the least important; it has nothing to do with what I've invested."

"Yes, yes."

Philista nodded like a pecking chick, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him, her long hair bouncing behind her: "You're absolutely right. Appearance really shouldn't be the standard by which a person is judged. It's the least remarkable thing about you. I completely agree."

"You're good-looking, so everything you say is right."

Reinhardt choked for a moment, his stern expression failing to hold, and he finally broke into helpless laughter.

He shook his head and simply lay down on the soft grass, hands folded behind his head. Philista immediately snuggled down beside him, turning on her side and pulling his right hand over, lacing their fingers together one by one, palm against palm.

The river of stars flowed slowly overhead, like a brilliant celestial river spanning the night sky.

"Philista."

Reinhardt gazed at the stars and suddenly spoke: "Once His Majesty awakens from his slumber, I will formally submit a marriage petition to him, asking his blessing for our union."

"Why bother with all that trouble?"

The red dragon girl pouted and said, "We dragons don't go in for that kind of thing. If we fancy someone, they're ours. What marriage petition? You humans are so fussy."

She paused, then scooted closer to him, her tone softening.

"But then again... considering you're a fussy human, and you insist on following human customs, I suppose I'll reluctantly go along with you. After all, I like you."

There was no courtship ritual among dragons.

In the traditions of dragon society, the courtship process was not complicated. It mainly came down to whether two dragons took a liking to each other. If they did, they got together. If not, they went their separate ways. There was none of that ceremonial fuss.

However, Philista didn't mind going along with Reinhardt's way of thinking.

This human, second only to her father in all of Atlan, was actually about the same age as her.

But in many ways, he was extremely pure and traditional.

For example, when faced with Philista's teasing, this swordsman would always blush and feel shy like an innocent boy. His flustered, at-a-loss behavior was the complete opposite of his calm composure when holding a sword.

That was exactly what Philista loved about him.

Even though the two had been officially together for nearly two hundred years, she still took endless delight in it. Every time she saw his ears tinge red, she found him utterly adorable.

Reinhardt smiled slightly and said, "Don't worry. I know your preferences. I'll arrange the wedding beautifully and prepare the most gorgeous dresses and jewelry for you."

The girl in the red dress nodded with satisfaction: "That's more like it."

As she spoke, she blinked and suddenly changed the subject: "But, Reinhardt, have you considered my father's thoughts? None of my brothers or sisters seem to have taken a human as their partner."

Hearing those words, the image of the red iron dragon's majestic and calm face instantly surfaced in Reinhardt's mind.

The swordsman who feared no death suddenly felt a bit of trepidation.

His resoluteness and decisiveness vanished, and he stammered: "Well... His Majesty should approve, right? After all, I've served him faithfully for so many years..."

Philista burst out laughing.

"Haha, look how scared you are. My father will definitely approve. Though I admit I haven't seen my father very many times myself—hmm... probably fewer times than you have—I know very well that my father truly respects the thoughts of us offspring. He wouldn't interfere too much with our choices."

The Emperor's descendants each had their own distinct personalities.

In this regard, aside from the most basic Aolan education, the Red Emperor had never forcibly commanded them to do anything in particular.

Take Philista for example. Though she was a red dragon, her personality was completely different from the traditional red dragon temperament. She didn't particularly care for things like war.

In all these years, no one had ever demanded that she fight for the Empire. She was free to choose the kind of life she wanted.

Then there were her elder brothers—the red dragons Garcro and Laria. Those two loved battle and expanding territory, so their Dragon Father had given them critically important expansion missions, letting them realize their own worth, respecting and trusting their ideas and abilities.

"You're right. His Majesty will definitely approve."

Reinhardt nodded in agreement.

Philista gazed at the stars, her voice suddenly dropping a little lower: "I just wonder when Father will wake up. He's already been sleeping for over two hundred years."

Over two hundred years...

Even for a dragon with a long lifespan, that was no short number. It was enough time for a young dragon to grow from juvenile to prime adulthood.

"This is a good thing."

Reinhardt said: "The fact that His Majesty's slumber has been so prolonged means that when he awakens, he will only be more unmatched than before. We just need to guard his Empire well and wait for the day he opens his eyes."

Being asleep for over two hundred years meant His Majesty was sprinting toward Immortal.

And he would inevitably succeed.

Reinhardt had no doubt about that.

Thinking about it, he suddenly realized the gap between himself and the Emperor was about to widen even further.

After reaching Immortal, Reinhardt had relaxed considerably, largely because there was an insurmountable chasm between Legendary and Immortal.

He felt that since he had already achieved Immortal, his position in Sacred Aola was essentially secured. The days of tirelessly honing his blade day and night could finally come to an end. He could afford to enjoy life a little.

But... if His Majesty woke up and found him this complacent, perhaps he would think less of him.

No!

Reinhardt, you cannot remain this complacent!

The swordsman's gaze sharpened, and he made to rise.

"Philista, His Majesty's awakening shouldn't be too far off. I can't afford to be too complacent either. Time to practice my swordsmanship."

His wrist tightened.

Philista grabbed hold of him, hanging her entire body off his arm, tilting her face up in a playful plea: "The night is so beautiful, the stars are so many. Stay with me a little longer."

"If you want to practice, you can do it right here. I can watch you dance with your sword."

Reinhardt turned to look at her.

Philista lay on the grass, her red dress spread out like flower petals, her long hair scattered among the green blades. Her eyes reflected his face, brimming with anticipation.

He said seriously: "Dancing with a sword and practicing the sword are not the same thing."

That said, the swordsman didn't get up after all.

The young man lay back down on the grass, resting his head on his arm, quietly gazing at the river of stars overhead. The red-clad girl curled up contentedly at his side, their fingers still interlocked, her red skirt spreading across the green grass.

Your Majesty, please forgive me.

Let me be just a little more complacent for a while...

Reinhardt gazed up at the stars, thinking silently to himself.

The night wind was gentle, the starlight hung low. In the distance, the lights of the capital city mirrored the stars in the sky. Occasionally, a Cloud Rail train streaked across the night, trailing a line of light that split the heavens in two before rapidly sealing shut again.

Yet, peaceful time was ultimately short-lived.

"Hm?"

Philista suddenly blinked.

Among the sea of silver-white stars, a crimson-red star lit up without any warning.

"Reinhardt, look."

She raised her hand and pointed at the sky: "A red star just lit up."

Reinhardt followed her pointing finger and looked.

With a single glance, all the relaxation on his face vanished. His expression turned grave, his pupils contracting slightly in the darkness.

Before he could think further, a second red star lit up.

A third, a fourth, a tenth... One after another, crimson stars ignited across the night sky, spreading from one end of the sky vault to the other. Crimson rays crisscrossed between them, outlining, connecting, and extending outward.

Within a few short breaths, an enormous, unimaginable red network had taken shape above the planet.

It was like a giant umbrella slowly unfurling, covering nearly all of Atlan beneath it. Red light cascaded down, dyeing the grasslands with a thin layer of blood-red hue. Even Philista's red dress seemed darker and deeper under the crimson glow.

The Star Network.

This was the Star Network at maximum emergency status.

Seeing this, the smile on Philista's face disappeared.

Reinhardt had already risen to his feet, his twin swords somehow already in his hands. He looked up at the colossal web covering the sky vault, his gaze sharp as a blade. His entire being was like a sword drawn in an instant, every edge exposed.

The two exchanged a glance.

No words were needed. They both knew something had happened.

And it was definitely not something trivial.

Whoosh!

A beam of light descended from the sky without any warning, landing behind Reinhardt.

The light twisted and took shape, rapidly condensing into the projection of a great dragon. Sorog's image materialized on the grassland, wings folded, his face heavy as iron.

"Reinhardt."

The iron dragon looked at the human swordsman and said in a deep voice: "Unknown lifeforms are approaching from the deep void, targeting Bernardo directly. Count: three. Size: massive. Conventional methods are insufficient to intercept. You are ordered to proceed to space immediately. The light of the Star Network will guide your way."

The swordsman did not hesitate for even a moment. He nodded solemnly.

"Reinhardt, accepting the order!"

The projection dispersed at the sound, dissolving into specks of light that scattered in the night wind.

His wrist tightened.

Philista had taken hold of his hand again.

The girl in the red dress looked up at him, worry churning in her eyes, yet there was no trace of an attempt to hold him back.

She was a descendant of the Red Emperor.

Though she didn't care for battle, she understood perfectly well when the Empire's sword should be drawn from its sheath.

"My Reinhardt."

She spoke word by word, seriously: "My dear swordsman, I'll wait for your triumphant return. Don't forget the promise we just made."

Reinhardt nodded solemnly.

"Wait for me."

He said.

The next instant, crimson starlight fell vertically from the sky vault, condensing into a pillar of light that enveloped him.

Reinhardt did not resist.

Space twisted and folded under the power of the Star Network, teleporting the swordsman's figure away, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Bernardo, low orbit.

As the light dispersed, Reinhardt hung suspended in the silent depths of space.

He looked down at the blue planet beneath his feet, then raised his eyes toward the darkness ahead.

Then he saw it.

In the pitch-black universe, three colossal spherical bodies were tearing through the deep void, hurtling toward the blue planet behind him.

Their surfaces flowed with a dull crimson luster. Their size was so enormous that each one rivaled a small asteroid, and their speed was so immense they seemed intent on smashing Bernardo to pieces.

The swordsman's pupils contracted slightly.

At that size, at that speed... if even one of them struck the surface, impact would mean instant Cataclysm, enough to destroy a continent and turn a thriving Empire into a living hell in moments.

The meteor shower that had once fallen upon Arotala Continent was utterly insignificant compared to these three asteroid-class monstrosities.

At the same moment, the crimson Star Network covering all of Atlan suddenly erupted.

Countless streams of energy rose from the planet's surface, crossing the deep void, pouring into Reinhardt's body like a hundred rivers returning to the sea. His Immortal body trembled slightly within the starlight, his power climbing higher and higher.

Empire-class constructs were capable of affecting even Immortal beings.

Sacred Aola's development over these years was no decoration.

The swordsman felt as though he had never been this powerful before. Starlight surged through his body, every inch of flesh and blood infused with strength far beyond his ordinary limits.

"Come."

Reinhardt murmured.

His entire form transformed into a streak of sword light, tearing across the deep void, closing in on the three spheres at unimaginable speed.

The moment the distance closed, the Potency of light and darkness coalesced into sword light.

Without reservation, it erupted outward.

A pair of terrifying sword lights, tens of kilometers long, were held in the hands of a single small human, sweeping across the cosmos again and again, slicing through the three giant spheres with unmatched sharpness.

The first sphere split from the middle, cleaved into several chunks. The second and third followed immediately...

Reinhardt's figure darted at high speed between the three spheres. Every pass carved a sword scar across the sky, the colossal masses being sliced into pieces by the crisscrossing sword light, countless fragments tumbling and scattering through the vacuum.

Reinhardt steadied himself in the void, his chest rising and falling silently.

Is it over?

The thought had barely surfaced when his heart clenched.

The scattered fragments seemed to possess life, attracting and gathering toward one another in the deep void. Countless cracks healed at a visibly rapid pace.

Within a few short breaths, all the fragments of the three spheres merged together, coalescing into a single blood-red giant sphere far larger than any of the originals.

And on the surface of that giant sphere were tightly interwoven organic textures, like muscle fibers.

Radiating from its center, invisible waves churned continuously.

Reinhardt felt waves of rage surging in his heart... His expression turned grim, and a layer of bright radiance flickered across his body, temporarily suppressing the negative state. At the same time, the giant sphere pressed forward undiminished, its momentum even fiercer than before.

Reinhardt struck again with several more sword slashes.

The sword light plunged into the sphere's surface, tearing open deep sword wounds, but the material of the sphere squirmed and closed like living flesh, healing at terrifying speed, leaving not a trace behind.

Clearly, this was no asteroid.

It was alive—a living celestial body.

The swordsman hovered in the deep void, his gaze heavy.

He realized the truth: this thing wasn't going to be easy to kill. Ordinary attacks were meaningless against it, and even his own strikes couldn't effectively damage it.

Should he awaken His Majesty for this?

No.

His Majesty was at a critical juncture in his breakthrough to Immortal. He could not be disturbed.

Reinhardt took a deep breath.

There was no air in the vacuum around him, but he still needed that breath—or rather, through that gesture, he needed to sink his will to the deepest place.

Terminus!

Light and darkness, two completely opposing forces, awakened within him simultaneously, surging through his limbs and bones like two great rivers.

His left eye sank into pure black. His right eye blazed with absolute white. Light spilled from his eye sockets, flowing down his cheeks, passing around his neck, and spreading across his entire body.

Black and white interweaving light trails spread across his skin like cracks.

The twin great swords in his hands merged together.

The twin blades fused into one, the sword light contracting to its normal size, taking on a twilight hue—like the sliver of sky light where day and night meet. Light on the verge of dying, darkness on the brink of arriving.

This was the first time Reinhardt had activated this state in actual combat since breaking through to Immortal.

Terminus Force was far too dangerous, not a power that normal humans could wield. Compared to it, his body was not resilient enough—the slightest misstep and the Terminus Force would backlash and kill him on the spot.

But at this moment, at the Empire's hour of crisis, with the full might of the Star Network backing him, he took that step.

Without hesitation.

The next moment, Reinhardt's figure moved again.

He did not retreat but advanced, charging head-on toward the blood-red sphere hurtling at his home. His entire being, carrying the twilight Terminus sword, plunged into the surging crimson light surrounding the sphere. His tiny figure was instantly swallowed by the boundless blood-red radiance.

The blood-red sphere continued its fall.

Toward Bernardo, toward Atlan, toward the countless lights of billions.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

Then suddenly... RIIIP!

A sword scar blazed across the surface of the sphere.

Time seemed to stand still. In the same instant, a second, a third... a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred million twilight-colored Terminus sword scars ignited across the sphere one after another, crisscrossing densely like a spider's web. In the blink of an eye, they covered the entire surface of the giant sphere, shattering the dull crimson into fragmented ruin.

In that instant, the blood-red sphere shattered once more.

The scattered fragments writhed madly, attempting to rejoin, but failed.

The residual Terminus Force in every sword scar clung to them like bone-deep parasites, suppressing them. The countless fragments struggled a few times but ultimately could only maintain their broken forms, continuing their fall toward the planet.

They were still dangerous.

But no longer a threat.

The crimson Star Network roared once more.

In low orbit, one figure after another emerged from the starlight.

Aolan Heroic Spirits, armored and armed, arrayed themselves in the radiance of the Sanctuary. Great dragons soared into the sky, their wings blotting out the starfield.

At the same time, all the Aolan satellites orbiting the planet lit up.

Dense interception beams poured down like a torrential storm, raining upon the falling fragments.

Amidst the light rain and the attacks of the Aolan guards, the blood-red fragments were further shattered and vaporized.

Whoosh!

A streak of starlight blazed across the void, sweeping up the unconscious human figure, wrapping around him and swiftly teleporting him back within the planet.

Meanwhile.

Atlan, the surface.

Countless living beings walked out of their dwellings, gazing up at the night sky.

They saw the crimson Star Network covering the sky vault, saw the bursts of light blooming across the heavens, and also witnessed the magnificent sight of what looked like countless meteors falling, only to be intercepted and extinguished mid-air.

Children gasped in wonder, thinking it was another grand display of fireworks following the Millennium Celebration.

But the elders and the strong, gazing at the sky, remained silent, unable to speak for a long time.

They all vaguely realized.

The long, peaceful era of song and dance seemed destined to quietly come to an end, starting from this starlit night.