CHAPTER 385: RECOVERING FROM INJURY

The clouds above churned as if a higher will was watching.

The Transcendent Being’s body convulsed, blood spraying from his mouth as several golden runes around him were forcibly shattered. He staggered in disbelief.

"Damn!"

His internal world dimmed. His Golden Star River vanished.

Apollo, too, gritted his teeth. The backlash coursed through his body — not just physical but spiritual. At the moment the lightning struck, it didn’t matter how strong his body was, as it seemed that it attacked his causality. Which is something that cannot be stopped or evaded.

His soul flickered.

But... he endured.

He stood. Sword still drawn.

He coughed blood, but his gaze never wavered. The divine thunder receded, but the destructive power it left behind remained.

Both of them remained silent, and finally the transcendent being looked back at the transformed leader who was thrown far during their clash.

"Let’s leave." With that, he started to leave, but before he left, he looked back towards Apollo.

"Remember, kid—my name is Aureon Veyl, Golden Star Sovereign of the Ninth Heaven."

His voice was heavy, not with pride, but with a storm of unsettled rage and restrained awe. His golden hair fluttered in the windless air; his eyes — once calm like cosmic oceans — now shimmered with a restrained fury, tinged by something Apollo could not quite place.

Fear? No. Caution.

With that, Aureon turned, space folding beneath his steps as he vanished with the transformed guy into the distance. The shattered Golden Star River lingered only as a fading echo of celestial light, soon swallowed by the recovering skies.

Apollo stood unmoving.

The name echoed in his mind.

Aureon Veyl...

Not a name he’d heard before — but what interested him was the Ninth Heaven. Was it an organisation or a group of some insane people? What were their motives, as it seemed they were experimenting with that weird malicious power?

He was sure of this, as he saw the leader who had maintained his sanity. So they must have big plans.

"Well, we should also leave." Apollo said, and the guardian quickly came beside him.

He wanted to protect Apollo, but he was a step late, and his strength wasn’t enough to interfere with the battle between the Golden Star Sovereign and Apollo.

Then they also quickly left the place, which seemed to have attracted quite a bit of attention from hidden ancient monsters from the western continent.

Quite a number of powerful figures projections seemed to be above the land where Apollo fought. Some draped in robes of stars, others shrouded in flowing laws and divine mist.

They hovered like judges of the heavens, their gazes sweeping across the fractured terrain where space still trembled, and remnants of lightning lingered like divine echoes.

One of the projections — an aged figure with eyes like obsidian galaxies — spoke first.

"It seems something happened here that triggered the seal."

Another, cloaked in silver flames, narrowed his gaze toward the centre of the shattered plain. "Only one kind of force can cause that divine punishment to descend."

A third, whose body was formed entirely of flowing scripture and runes, completed the thought.

"A Transcendent. Only a transcendent’s authority can provoke the seal’s wrath."

There was a brief silence.

Then the first speaker murmured, "But who would be bold — or foolish — enough to awaken such power within Rion of all places?"

The third projected leader seemed to start to draw some weird runic symbols, and then the time seemed to go back, and images of the battle started to appear in front of them.

The image of two figures flickered in the memory of space.

In the shimmering image, two figures clashed at the heart of the storm.

One was clear — the Golden Star Sovereign — radiant and terrible, wielding authority that turned starlight into golden river of blades.

The other...

Blurry. Obscured.

His outline flickered like a fading dream, as though the world itself refused to remember him clearly.

"Strange," one projection whispered.

"Even in the memory of space-time, his image is unstable," another added. "Only someone with a terrifying power and casuality could remain hidden... even here."

They all became silent, as this was something they didn’t expect. That there would be such a mysterious expert in Rion.

"Hmm, one is from the Ninth Heaven, but who is the other that even you, old bastard, cannot figure out?" The first figure, who was like a walking galaxy of stars, said with a surprised voice.

They all seemed to look at the sky towards the runic formations that covered the Rion and then silently leave.

Apollo didn’t know what just happened; instead, he and his guardian quickly left the western continent and arrived at an empty island in the boundless sea to recover from the injuries from the divine punishment.

This time, after coming to the western continent, he learnt quite a lot and even shockingly met a transcendent-level enemy. Now it seems the secret of Rion is at a much higher level than he expected.

But it wouldn’t stop him, as in dangers there are rewards that are difficult to obtain even for him with his status in Sky Tower.

He already knew what his next stop would be.

The Northern Continent.

The most chaotic of all the continents on Rion.

But before he needed to heal himself, as he still felt lightning power within him that slowly was interfering with his healing process.

The divine punishment had not only wounded his body but also left traces of lightning buried deep within his soul and flesh. Though he appeared calm on the surface, he could still feel those purple arcs of lightning flickering beneath his skin—refusing to fade.

It wasn’t ordinary lightning. It was punishment lightning from the very laws of Rion itself—divine, judgemental, and relentless.

He sat cross-legged atop the quiet island’s cliff, the sea wind howling around him, eyes closed in deep meditation.

He focused, guiding the Eternal Sword Rule inward.

Thin threads of sword light moved through his meridians, precise and merciless. It was a painful process — almost surgical — but slowly, those flickers of lingering lightning began to unravel, severed at their source.

Hours passed. Then a day. Then two.

During that time, his guardian stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the sea with a sword in hand, ensuring no one approached.

Finally, on the third day, a soft exhale escaped Apollo’s lips. His aura calmed. The scars of lightning still lingered, but the chaotic force had been expelled.

His eyes opened, clearer than ever, glowing with a trace of golden black flame and shimmering sword power.