Chapter 152: Combat Power

To Seraphina, the location was irrelevant...

Even if Justina had assimilated a Primeval-grade art, Seraphina felt she could suppress the older girl with a single finger.

Whether they fought in a grand arena or a dusty courtyard, the result would be identical.

However, her dismissal rubbed the observing Elders the wrong way.

They acknowledged that Seraphina had a higher raw cultivation tier, but Justina was wielding a Primeval art.

The multiplier on her combat power was immense. Even if the Sovereign’s disciple won, she would not emerge unscathed.

They kept these thoughts to themselves, of course. The shadow of the Abyssal Sovereign loomed too large. They only hoped Justina would force Seraphina to break a sweat.

"You are exceptionally confident, Operative," Justina noted, her hand resting lightly on her pommel. "I respect the Sovereign’s authority, but I have spent the last month rebuilding my meridians for this art. I will not be an easy opponent."

"I am aware," Seraphina said smootly. She adjusted her spectacles. "To ensure a proper assessment, I will suppress my cultivation to match yours exactly. Vanguard tier, Seventh Realm. I will not rely on Aetheric density to win."

The Elders’ eyes brightened.

If Seraphina handicapped herself, the odds shifted dramatically.

What had been a three-to-seven disadvantage for Justina suddenly looked like an even match.

Perhaps even a distinct advantage for the Sanctum’s prodigy...

"Justina," Elder Vane cautioned. "Operative Seraphina is our guest. Mind your blade."

"You underestimate her, Elder," Justina said. She drew her sword. "...what are the odds of this exchange?"

Seraphina considered the question for a moment.

"Three to seven," she answered.

"Oh?" Justina raised an eyebrow. "You believe I only have a thirty percent chance of victory even with matched cultivation?"

"No," Seraphina corrected her. "I mean that in the span of three breaths, you will be killed seven times."

The courtyard fell silent.

"Hehe..." Elder Vane stroked his beard, forcing a chuckle. "The Sovereign’s disciple shares his unique sense of humor."

"Since that is your assessment," Justina said, "I ask for your guidance."

She engaged her Primeval art.

In contrast, Seraphina remained entirely still. She did not draw her sword. She did not even assume a martial stance.

"Defend yourself!" Justina warned, and vanished.

With a flash of movement, Justina closed the distance instantly.

A bell attached to her sword’s hilt chimed as she drove a crescent-strike directly at Seraphina’s neck.

"Once," Seraphina murmured.

She did not move to block. She allowed the Sanctum heirloom to slice through her throat.

The Elders gasped, preparing for a diplomatic disaster.

But before they could intervene, they realized no blood had spilled. Justina’s blade had passed clean through thin air.

*A phantom image?* Elder Vane thought, his eyes widening.

Seven Exarch-level Elders were present, and not a single one had detected the optical displacement.

When Seraphina materialized a fraction of a second later, she was standing directly behind Justina, her index finger resting a millimeter from the older girl’s temple.

"Again!" Justina shouted.

Shock fueled her combat intent. She refused to believe a Primeval art could be bypassed so effortlessly.

She spun, unleashing a flurry of twelve consecutive strikes.

"Twice."

Justina struck nothing but air. Seraphina’s finger tapped the back of her neck.

"Three times."

A tap on the spine.

"Four times."

A tap over her heart.

The exchanges happened in staggering succession.

"Seven times."

Less than three breaths had passed since Justina’s first strike.

Seraphina had fulfilled her promise. She had not drawn a weapon...

By simply compressing her Aether into her footwork, she had outmaneuvered a Primeval art and simulated seven lethal blows.

"Again. Once more!" Justina panted, her pristine white robes slightly disheveled.

She gripped her sword with white knuckles.

"If there is an eighth time," Seraphina said, "I will kill you."

The seven Elders, who had been frozen in silence, jolted as if struck by lightning.

"Justina! Cease your actions!" Elder Vane barked, stepping forward. He had no doubt that the bespectacled girl standing in his courtyard was serious.

"Have I... lost?"

Justina clenched her free hand into a fist, trembling slightly as she prepared to step forward and launch another strike.

But she couldn’t move...

For a long moment, Justina remained frozen, her clenched fists trembling.

It was not the reality of losing to Seraphina that paralyzed her, but the manner of the defeat.

Throughout the entire exchange, the Abyssal Sovereign’s disciple had not drawn a weapon. She had essentially stood in place and simulated seven lethal blows with mere footwork.

"This is bad," Elder Vane muttered, taking a half-step forward. "Justina’s martial Dao is wavering. Justina, concede! Surviving is what matters. A damaged foundation can be repaired, but a severed neck cannot!"

Several other Elders looked equally alarmed.

Yet, none of them dared to intervene...

To attack now meant certain death; to surrender meant dismantling her lifelong belief in her own invincibility.

Seraphina remained entirely tranquil, her arms crossed, watching Justina. She had not displayed a single hint of exertion.

A few yards away, Cassia stood blinking, seemingly oblivious to the life-and-death stakes playing out before her.

Her thoughts were likely still lingering on the white goose Elder Caelum had taken to the kitchens.

"Thank you, Operative," Justina said. She bowed slightly. "Thank you for showing me what a true peerless genius looks like. I... have no regrets if I die today. But I implore you to grant me one final request."

Seraphina’s eyebrows rose behind her spectacles. She had not expected the older girl to overcome her fear of death so quickly. "Speak."

"I beseech you. Go all out in a single strike," Justina said, taking a deep breath. "Show me the true disparity between us."

"Very well," Seraphina nodded.

A bitter smile touched Justina’s lips. "From childhood, the Elders and the provincial powers have constantly praised me as the Eastern Marches’ unrivaled prodigy. Today, I realized how limited my perspective has been. I was a frog at the bottom of a well. If I must fall, let it be against the peak of martial perfection."

She resumed her stance.

"Between life and death, profound insight is born," Elder Vane murmured.

If Justina died, the Ashford Sanctum would lose its future pillar.

The Central Provinces would undoubtedly unleash their wrath upon the Eastern Branch for allowing such a tragedy.

Observing Justina’s earnest determination, Seraphina uncrossed her arms.

She stopped suppressing her cultivation, allowing her aura to return to the Fourth Realm of the Vanguard tier.

Even the Exarch-level Elders standing nearby felt their breathing restrict.

Though separated by an entire cultivation tier, the Elders realized with a jolt of horror that the current Seraphina possessed the combat power to seriously threaten them.

Had they not witnessed it with their own eyes, they would never have believed a Vanguard-tier cultivator could exert pressure on an Exarch.

"Are you ready?" Seraphina asked softly.

Justina gritted her teeth against the crushing aura. She could not speak, but she managed a nod.

The moment she moved, Seraphina vanished.

Before anyone could blink, Seraphina was standing inches from Justina, her index finger resting directly between the older girl’s eyes.

As Seraphina murmured the incantation, the malevolent Aether around her surged a hundredfold.

The energy coalesced, forming the spectral phantom of a Primeval Wyrm behind her, its eyes locked onto Justina.

In an instant, Justina lost all consciousness... Her nervous system simply shut down under the overwhelming pressure.

Even the Exarchs broke into a cold sweat. They knew with certainty that if they tried to block that finger, they would be severely injured.

The spectral Wyrm roared, transforming into a concentrated lance of destructive energy that shot forth from Seraphina’s fingertip.

"Justina!"

"Operative, mercy!"

"No!"

The Elders panicked. They vanished from their spots, reappearing around Justina to intercept the blow, fully aware that a direct hit to her forehead would annihilate both body and soul.

"This is... true power," Justina murmured.

The strike missed her forehead by a fraction of a millimeter.

The destructive beam bypassed the Sanctum prodigy entirely, slamming into the grand sword pavilion directly behind her.

With a roar of collapsing masonry, the entire central hall was reduced to rubble in a single blast.

Seraphina lowered her hand. She had altered the trajectory at the last possible instant.

The threat of impending death had been necessary to temper Justina’s Dao heart.

If the older girl could survive the psychological ordeal, her mental fortitude would become as unyielding as iron. If she failed, it simply meant she lacked maturity.

Besides, Justina was Cassia’s sister...

Seraphina had never actually intended to kill her.

And despite her arrogance, Justina had not committed any crime worthy of death.

"I am going to meditate now," Seraphina said, turning to the flustered Elders as the dust settled over the ruined pavilion. "Elders, please lead the way."

"Thank you, Operative! Thank you!"

"Fairy Seraphina, this way please! We have already prepared a premium courtyard!"

Seeing that Justina was unharmed, the Elders’ attitudes underwent a profound shift.

As they moved to escort her away, a small hand weakly grabbed Seraphina’s sleeve.

Seraphina looked down.

Cassia was staring at the smoking rubble of the central hall. Tears welled in the junior operative’s eyes, and her lower lip trembled pitifully.

"Senior Sister," Cassia whimpered. "The hall you just blew up... that was my room."