Hestia slowly exited the arena and stepped into another, her pace unhurried as her gaze naturally settled upon the figures within. Here, she saw Aerin and Caelia moving in perfect synchronization, their bodies flowing through combat with a rhythm that spoke of countless hours spent refining their coordination. They clashed repeatedly, each exchange pushing the other further, neither willing to yield ground.

The clash of their weapons rang out, Aerin’s twin daggers meeting Caelia’s curved sword in a shower of sparks. Both pulled back simultaneously, circling each other with measured steps.

Aerin was no longer the nine-year-old child who once teleported unpredictably across the sect with uncontrolled bursts of energy. She had grown into a young woman, her once chaotic brilliance now refined into disciplined motion. The boundless energy she retained had not diminished, but under Hestia’s strict tutelage, it had been tempered into sharp control, guided by an increasingly formidable willforce. Her movements carried intent now, each action deliberate, each decision grounded in understanding rather than impulse.

Beside her, Caelia had become both a rival and a good friend, their relationship evolving into something that was not merely competitive but a deep companionship. Through that bond, Aerin had begun to experience aspects of life she might have otherwise missed, grounding her growth beyond cultivation alone.

The moment they noticed Hestia, both of them halted their movements and approached her, bowing in unison. Their breathing came slightly elevated, sweat dampening their training robes.

“Master.”

Hestia nodded calmly, her hands clasped behind her back. “Continue your training. Do not mind me.”

They returned to their positions and resumed their sparring, their movements regaining intensity almost instantly. Aerin lunged forward, daggers flashing in a complex pattern. Caelia parried the first three strikes, then twisted away from the fourth.

As Hestia observed them, she could clearly see that while they appeared evenly matched on the surface, Aerin held a distinct advantage. Her comprehension of the space concept allowed her to teleport freely, integrating it seamlessly into her combat flow.

Aerin vanished mid-strike, reappearing at Caelia’s flank. Caelia barely managed to bring her sword up in time, the impact forcing her back two steps.

Caelia, on the other hand, could only rely on a ring artifact to replicate similar movements. While effective, such artifacts were limited by the arcane essence stored within them, and their usage had to be carefully managed. Even with Adrian’s financial support, the resources were not infinite, and these artifacts were intended primarily for use in actual combat rather than training.

The ring on Caelia’s finger pulsed faintly. She could use it, but chose not to waste the stored essence on a training bout. So while Caelia didn’t use the artifact much, Aerin kept teleporting in the combat, which gave her an advantage.

Early Rule Stage beings were mostly in a state where they just started to learn authority techniques; this case applied both to Aerin and Caelia. Caelia had not even mastered the rule modification needed to block the space concept yet, and this ended up as a disadvantage against Aerin.

“Stop running,” Caelia called out, frustration bleeding into her otherwise calm tone.

Aerin grinned, appearing behind her again. “Make me.”

Caelia spun, her sword sweeping in a wide arc. Aerin blinked away before the blade connected.

As Hestia continued to watch, she felt a familiar presence beside her. Turning slightly, she saw Adrian standing there, his attention fixed on the sparring pair.

“She has grown up, hasn’t she?” he asked, his tone carrying a quiet reflection.

Hestia allowed a faint smile to form as she replied, watching Aerin execute a particularly clever feint. “Yes, she is becoming a warrior capable of standing on her own. However, she has not reached that stage yet. She still requires more training… she is still a child.”

From Hestia’s perspective, even though Aerin had reached around thirty years of age, such a number was insignificant when measured against the vast lifespans within the universe. In that scale, Aerin remained little more than a child. Hestia herself had lived more than a million years. Thirty was barely a breath.

Adrian chuckled softly, though he did not offer a direct response. His gaze remained on Aerin, who had just landed a successful strike against Caelia’s shoulder guard. For him, thirty years already represented adulthood. Even his own age, though blurred by time dilation across various environments such as the edge structures and formations like this one, likely fell somewhere between five hundred and a thousand years, perhaps even less. Adrian couldn’t even exactly count it. By his standards, Aerin had already crossed into maturity.

He shifted the topic, “The final batch of personalized weapon artifacts was completed yesterday, Hestia. Every disciple who registered now possesses a weapon tailored specifically to their combat role and strengths.”

Over the past two decades within the time formation, the formal distance that had once existed between them had gradually dissolved, replaced by a quiet, unspoken camaraderie built upon shared responsibility and mutual trust. They spoke now as equals, two leaders and friends bearing the weight of their people.

Hearing his words, Hestia shook her head slightly in disbelief, though her expression carried deep respect. “Tens of thousands of customized weapons, each meticulously crafted to match individual needs…” She turned to face him fully. “You have not stopped working since the time field was activated. Even the most dedicated elders would have collapsed under such relentless mental strain.”

She stepped slightly closer, her tone softening as she continued, “Now that your work has finally come to a pause, what are your plans next? We still have decades remaining within this formation before the deployment time arrives. Planning to rest?”

Adrian’s gaze remained on the arena. Aerin vanished in a flicker of space, reappearing behind Caelia, only for Caelia to pivot instantly, intercepting the attack with flawless timing.

“No. There is always more to do,” he said as he shook his head.

Hestia frowned slightly, “What more could you do? Train the disciples further?”

From her perspective, most of the necessary preparations had already been completed. The sect had been strengthened, resources had been allocated, and now it was simply a matter of allowing time for the disciples to refine their capabilities. Adrian had already given them everything: knowledge, weapons, formations, and artifacts. What remained?

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Adrian shook his head slightly, the motion barely perceptible. “Perhaps… but I already train them when I can. What I see now is something far more important.”

Hestia’s gaze sharpened as she asked, “What is it?”

Adrian’s expression grew more serious as he answered, “What we have built so far will make our disciples stronger. It will help them survive, and with both of us present, we can win the war against the Everlasting Pill Sect. But what happens after that?”

“We already certainly know that Everlasting Pill Sect will hire mercenaries from the Ashen Vortex Sect, and among those forces, there will undoubtedly be at least one Peak Rule Stage cultivator. Maybe she could go to the extent of completely sacrificing all her resources to hire multiple Peak Rule Stage cultivators. Even then, it’s not a problem; we both, with our powers combined, can certainly handle it.”

In the arena, Aerin blinked behind Caelia again, her daggers flashing toward an exposed flank. Caelia twisted, her sword intercepting one blade whilst her free hand caught Aerin’s wrist. They broke apart, breathing harder now.

Adrian’s voice dropped lower, forcing Hestia to lean in slightly to catch every word.

“We can still win the war and kill everyone. But what happens when we kill a Peak Rule Stage mercenary from the Ashen Vortex Sect?”

Hestia’s expression shifted. Her eyes flickered with recognition, then darkened as the implications settled fully into her mind. She had considered this scenario before, in the quiet hours when she reviewed their strategic position. The thought had surfaced, been acknowledged, then buried beneath more immediate concerns. Now Adrian had dragged it back into the light, demanding it be confronted.

The Ashen Vortex Sect might not care about the loss of ordinary mercenaries, but the death of a Peak Rule Stage cultivator would be an entirely different matter. Such an event would not go unanswered. If anything, it would provide them with justification to declare war, and in doing so, they would not appear as aggressors, but as a sect seeking retribution.

“I understand your point,” Hestia said finally, “I had thought about this.”

“The only solution I could think of is that we could join hands with the Thousand Veils Sect, with them as our backing, the Ashen Vortex sect wouldn’t move that easily.”

It was a logical proposal. Nightshade commanded respect throughout Andromeda Galaxy, and an alliance with the Thousand Veils Sect would provide political insulation. The Ashen Vortex Sect would be forced to weigh the cost of retaliation against the risk of provoking a conflict with multiple Peak Rule Stage forces.

Adrian’s response came immediately, as though he had anticipated this exact suggestion.

“That is a valid plan, but we can’t depend on others forever. Do you remember what I said before?”

Hestia looked at him without speaking.

“We are only safe when we are feared,” Adrian said.

Hestia’s breath caught slightly. She remembered. Of course she remembered. He had spoken those words before, in the aftermath of their confrontation with Yselia. At the time, they had seemed like strategic posturing, the kind of declaration meant to project confidence. Now, hearing them again in this context, she understood they represented something deeper, a fundamental philosophy Adrian had carried with him from whatever conflicts had forged him before arriving in Andromeda.

“Right now, even if we win this war, we will only be recognized as a strong sect, nothing more.” Adrian’s gaze remained fixed on the arena, “That is not enough. Without fear, others will continue to test us. If we defeat the Everlasting Pill Sect, the Ashen Vortex Sect will step forward. If we somehow survive that, maybe another force connected to them will emerge. This will become an endless chain.”

Hestia felt a chill run through her, not from temperature but from recognition. She understood chains. She understood cycles of violence that perpetuated themselves through generations, each act of survival planting seeds for the next conflict.

She had hoped, perhaps naively, that reaching this point would be enough. That ascending to Peak Rule Stage, that acquiring resources and territory, that surviving against the Everlasting Pill Sect would finally grant them the breathing room they needed. That they could simply exist without constantly fighting for that existence.

But Adrian was right. History proved him right. The universe did not grant peace to those who were merely strong. It granted peace only to those who were so overwhelmingly powerful that challenging them became unthinkable.

“But how do you intend to create that level of fear?” she asked quietly, and for the first time in decades, genuine uncertainty colored her voice.

“The Ashen Vortex Sect is one of the strongest upper minor sects in the galaxy. They have millions of disciples and multiple Peak Rule Stage cultivators. Even with our current strength, how can we make a sect like that fear us?”

“Do you plan to rely on your trump card? But you mentioned it has limitations in it, right?”

Adrian nodded. He couldn’t just use Absolute Source Order freely. Against Hestia, in a controlled one-on-one scenario, it was fine, but against someone like Ignis, who has lived far longer and possesses far greater experience, and especially within a war setting, it becomes a different matter entirely. A war is never a simple duel. If the Ashen Vortex sect declared war, even Adrian couldn’t just single-handedly take care of it.

Adrian himself didn’t have a clear understanding of the costs of using Absolute Source Order yet. He needed to experiment with this against multiple levels of cultivators to truly learn about its limitations. Before that, he needed to be cautious.

“That has limitations,” he confirmed, “As I said before, I can’t spam that.”

He finally turned to face Hestia fully, breaking his observation of the sparring match. “Right now, we do not have the resources to face a force with millions of disciples head-on. That is the reality.”

“But if we fail to establish fear, this cycle will never end. It will continue indefinitely, one conflict leading to another without resolution.”

“The only way to stop it,” Adrian concluded, “is to cut it at the root.”

Hestia remained silent, absorbing his words. She understood what he meant. Not just defeating enemies, but establishing such overwhelming dominance that the very thought of opposition became impossible. It was a strategy she had seen attempted by countless forces throughout her long life. But most had failed. Those who succeeded became the major and great sects that ruled galaxies.

The question was whether the Crimson Vital Sect, whether they, possessed what was necessary to become one of those forces.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of combat from the arena had ceased, replaced by the quieter rhythm of disciples recovering from their exertions. Aerin and Caelia sat together now, sharing water and conversation, their earlier intensity transformed into easy companionship.

Watching them, Hestia felt an ache in her chest, not physical, but the deep weariness of someone who had carried impossible burdens for far too long. These disciples, these young cultivators who trusted her leadership, who had committed their lives to this sect’s vision… they deserved better than an endless cycle of warfare.

But the universe did not grant what was deserved. It granted only what was taken and held through overwhelming force.

Finally, Adrian exhaled softly and said, “To be honest, I am still trying to determine what we can do. We still have decades within this formation. If we can find a way to establish that fear, we will end this before it begins.”

“If not… then we will face whatever comes.”

Hestia nodded slowly. She appreciated his honesty. Many would have presented false confidence, would have claimed to possess answers they did not have. Adrian’s willingness to acknowledge the problem without pretending to hold its solution spoke to the kind of leader he had become.

Or perhaps, she reflected, the kind of leader he had always been. Someone who saw reality clearly, even when that reality was uncomfortable.

“Then we will use these decades wisely,” she said, her voice regaining some of its usual firmness. “If a solution exists, we will find it. If not…”

She let the sentence trail off, but they both understood the completion. If not, they would fight anyway. They would win anyway. And they would deal with whatever consequences emerged from that victory when they arrived.

Because that was what leaders did. They made impossible choices, bore unbearable burdens, and continued moving forward even when the path ahead remained shrouded in uncertainty.

For the first time, the scale of what lay ahead was not just a war between sects, but a struggle against an entire chain of power that had governed the universe. A chain that had crushed countless ambitious sects before them, that had maintained the established order through overwhelming force and the threat of collective retaliation.

And whether they would break it… or be consumed by it… was something the coming decades would decide.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep