Chapter 217

Chapter 217: The Third Path

Flocks of birds burst from treetops in panic.

Hordes of magical beasts stampeded blindly through the Sea of Trees.

Territorial awakened beasts abandoned their usual dominance, retreating to hiding spots with more caution than timid creatures or fleeing at breakneck speeds.

Even the towering trees, colorful blossoms, and lush green vines seemed to recoil, dulling their vitality as if frightened.

The once-bustling Star Mountain fell into silence, as though struck by a muting spell.

A deathly stillness took hold.

All because of the golden-armored man with a golden mask and cold flames blazing in his eyes.

Lord Segarth of the Light City hovered above the treetops, surveying the world below like a detached god as he glided forward.

A thread of pale blue light shot from his forehead, sweeping the land like a net. Whether buried underground, concealed in foliage, or hidden by shadow-walking talents, nothing escaped its glow.

Within moments, every cowering magical beast lay exposed.

Yet to Segarth, these "small fries" weren’t worth his attention. After a cursory glance, he flew onward.

"Ah? A Floating Stone Giant?" Cold fire flickered in Segarth’s eyes. He became a streak of light, materializing above the giant’s head.

Facing this level 52 awakened creature, Segarth finally raised both hands. Ten laser threads shot from his fingertips—razor wires slicing through air—reducing the painstakingly evolved giant to rubble.

A flick of his wrist summoned the giant’s evolved Elemental Core to his palm.

The diamond-clear core, large as a human head, drew a satisfied nod. This rare specimen would join the Seventeen Halls of the Azure Rock’s collection. Between long slumbers, Segarth whiled away centuries practicing alchemy and carving—this core could fuel months of experiments.

To him, the Seventeen Halls were his palace, the Floating City his garden, and Star Mountain merely decorative scenery—like stone miniatures in a human lord’s castle. Every Awakening Crystal and beast here existed solely for his harvest.

He’d never tolerate Arad’s insolent insects stealing his property.

As Segarth prepared to resume scanning, a violent magic wave pulsed from a distant canyon between two peaks.

"Impatient ants," he sneered. "Couldn’t wait longer? Pity. Let’s crush you first."

He became a rainbow streak shooting across the sky.

Within seconds, he meteor-crashed into the barren canyon—a lifeless zone not by his doing, but due to the hill-sized Awakening Crystal at its heart.

The deep purple crystal veined with gold threads was the legendary "Golden Crystal" from his past life—the perfect Awakening Crystal.

Using this for awakening amplified a practitioner’s pure magic purity exponentially. Not only would their magic power dwarf ordinary Awakened Ones, but they might grasp fleeting inspiration to wield higher-tier skills—Awakening Skills.

Like a sword soul’s "Extreme Swordsmanship: Storm Style" or "Extreme Swordsmanship: Iron Slash."

Moreover, perfect awakenings could birth unique skills based on one’s physique and talents—called Secret Techniques in his past life. Many heroes had reversed certain doom using such techniques.

If perfect transmutation built the path to greatness, perfect first awakening laid the cornerstone of supremacy. And those blessed with a unique Secret Technique? Unless they died young, they stood halfway to joining history’s strongest legends.

Perfect Awakening, though remarkable, was not something everyone could endure.

Among the magical beasts in Star Mountain qualified for awakening, none dared touch the Golden Crystal.

The reason was simple: its magic was too pure and overwhelming.

The spiritual pressure radiating from the Golden Crystal alone choked all life in the canyon. Ordinary magical beasts entering the area would bleed from their noses and mouths; venturing deeper caused hemorrhaging from all orifices and internal injuries.

Even those with awakening talents couldn’t absorb the pure magic surging from the golden threads. Any reckless attempt would end in fatal backlash.

Thus, the perfect Awakening Crystal grew larger each year, untouched.

Only the strongest, most talented heroes of intelligent races—those with courage—could wield it.

Now, a black-haired, black-eyed youth sat cross-legged atop the hill-sized Golden Crystal, calm and steady.

The Lord of the Light City scanned his prey, noting the youth’s even breaths, steady heartbeat, and unnervingly stable magic.

The crushing spiritual pressure seemed irrelevant to him. Even the intense magic leaking from the golden threads dissolved harmlessly around his form.

“Interesting,” Segarth remarked coldly from above. “But even if you achieve Perfect Awakening, you’ll remain an ant beneath my notice. Let’s end this farce.”

The youth remained still, eyes shut, as if deaf to his death sentence.

He seemed determined to push for a breakthrough until the last moment.

But awakening required far more time—especially a Perfect Awakening.

The moment Segarth sensed the Golden Crystal’s fluctuations, the process was doomed.

Miracles had no place here.

With a contemptuous snort, Segarth flicked a finger. An invisible force yanked Midi off the crystal, suspending him midair.

A razor-thin white laser sliced through Midi’s waist.

An instant kill for any unawakened mortal.

Yet instead of splitting into gory halves, Midi’s body dissolved like a shattered reflection, scattering into motes of magic.

As the illusion faded, a black crystal embedded in the phantom’s chest was revealed—an Earthly Stone Bomb crafted by Wiseman of the Hand of Nightmare.

Seeing the impending detonation, even Segarth’s icy eyes flickered with anger.

Blinding white light erupted silently.

Sensing the magic surge from Star Mountain, the real Midi glanced toward the canyon, a faint smirk on his lips.

Using the Golden Crystal for awakening? A tempting idea, but doomed. The figure in the canyon had always been a decoy.

Ghost Cry’s Illusion Array could create multiple clones to confuse enemies, akin to an assassin’s shadow clones.

But Midi had enhanced it using his golden small sword, pouring all the upgraded array’s power into a single perfect copy—complete with simulated breath, heartbeat, and his own blood to fool Segarth’s cursory inspection.

He’d also planted Wiseman’s failed Earthly Stone Bomb in the clone, stolen after the alchemist’s death.

Misdirection, the illusion of desperation, the Golden Crystal’s interference, and Segarth’s own arrogance formed an inescapable trap.

The bomb wouldn’t kill the Light Lord—Midi never expected a low-tier weapon to harm such a being. But it would stall him.

That was enough.

Leaving his hiding spot, Midi entered the celestial ruins ahead. At their heart lay an intact teleportation magic array etched into azure stone.

Chanting ancient spells, he activated the array. Its light synced with the magic veins below, humming to life.

Neither awakening nor fleeing—both relied on enemies’ mistakes. Trapping his foe and vanishing without a trace? That was Midi’s way.

The third choice: minimal risk, absolute control.