By the beginning of the third week, the nature of the journey began to shift once more.
The fleet had moved deeper into the Windscar Mountains.
The terrain below grew harsher.
The valleys widened in some places, but what they revealed was no longer calm or untouched land.
Signs of conflict began to appear.
At first, it was scattered.
A broken cliff face.
Deep gouges carved into stone, as if something massive had torn through it.
Further ahead, entire sections of forested slopes were flattened.
Trees uprooted.
Rock shattered.
The damage was not natural.
It carried the unmistakable traces of battle.
As the fleet continued forward, the signs became more frequent.
In one valley, the ground itself had split open, forming a jagged trench that stretched for hundreds of meters.
Charred marks stained the stone.
Residual spiritual energy still lingered faintly in the air.
Golden Core level.
Further along, the skeletal remains of a massive beast lay scattered across a rocky slope.
Its bones were cracked, some completely shattered, as if crushed by overwhelming force.
Even from above, the scale of the creature was evident.
It had once been powerful.
And it had been killed.
On the forward deck of the Azure Cloud Ark, several elders stood observing the terrain below.
Yun's gaze lingered briefly on the destruction.
The pattern was clear.
These were not isolated incidents.
This entire region had recently seen multiple Golden Core level battles.
The cause did not need to be explained.
The movement of so many cultivators through the mountains had disturbed the balance.
Demon beast territories had been disrupted.
Conflicts had followed.
Elder Zhang Renshan remained silent for a moment as he observed the valley below.
His expression did not change.
But his gaze sharpened slightly.
Then he spoke.
"We change route."
His voice carried across the deck, firm and decisive.
The nearby elders turned their attention toward him.
"There are two paths from here."
He gestured toward the terrain ahead.
"The lower valleys…"
His gaze moved downward.
"Stable winds. Easier flight."
He paused briefly.
"…but heavy demon beast territory."
No one disagreed.
What they had just seen was proof enough.
Those valleys were no longer safe.
Elder Zhang then looked upward, toward the higher ridgelines.
"The upper route…"
"Fewer beasts."
"But the wind currents are unstable."
"Spiritual turbulence is stronger."
The risk was different.
Not direct confrontation.
But environmental danger.
For a brief moment, the deck remained quiet.
The choice was clear.
Either face unpredictable beasts below—
Or unstable forces above.
Elder Zhang made the decision without hesitation.
"We go high."
His tone left no room for doubt.
"Our formation can handle it."
The Azure Cloud Ark and the fleet behind it were not ordinary vessels.
Their formation arrays were designed to withstand extreme conditions.
Against natural instability, they held an advantage.
Against concentrated demon beast territories—
Even Golden Core cultivators could be drawn into unnecessary battles.
The order spread quickly through the fleet.
Formation adjustments began immediately.
Ships increased spacing.
Energy flow within the arrays shifted.
The entire fleet began a gradual ascent.
As they climbed higher, the mountains changed again.
The peaks grew sharper.
The air thinned.
Wind currents became more erratic, brushing against the ships in uneven waves.
Below them, the valleys slowly receded into shadow.
The traces of destruction faded from view.
But the sense of danger did not disappear.
It simply changed form.
The fleet continued rising.
Entering the dangerous heights of the Windscar Mountains.
For days, the fleet traveled through the high-altitude routes above the cloud layer.
The mountains below had long disappeared beneath a vast expanse of white. Only the sky and shifting winds remained. The air was thinner here, but far more unstable—subtle distortions flowed through space, forcing the formation ships to constantly adjust their altitude and spacing.
At first, it felt like the safest path they had taken.
No demon beasts.
No visible threats.
Only silence.
Then it happened.
Without any warning, a crushing pressure descended upon the entire fleet.
The sky itself seemed to collapse inward.
A violent force struck the formation all at once, throwing every ship out of alignment. The Azure Cloud Ark shuddered heavily and dropped several meters in the air before its arrays struggled to stabilize.
Panic spread instantly.
Disciples in the Qi Condensation realm lost consciousness on the spot, unable to endure even a fraction of the pressure. Those in the Foundation Establishment realm were forced flat against the deck, their bodies completely immobilized. Breathing became difficult, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on every inch of their existence.
Before anyone could react, a second surge followed.
This time, the pressure carried a sharp, cutting nature.
It felt as if countless unseen blades were passing through the air itself. The space around the fleet turned hostile, filled with an invisible killing force that sliced at both body and spirit.
High above, something shifted.
And the pressure intensified again.
Only a few figures remained standing.
The Pavilion Master.
Elder Zhang Renshan.
Yun Yuzhe.
Mistress Lu Yan.
Even they were forced to brace themselves. Their robes snapped violently in the wind as their spiritual energy surged outward to resist the crushing force.
Elder Zhang's aura erupted like a restrained beast, anchoring him firmly in place, yet even he was pushed back half a step.
He frowned, eyes narrowing as he looked upward.
"Are we under attack?"
The Pavilion Master did not answer immediately.
His expression remained calm, but his gaze had sharpened.
Within that calmness, there was a clear shift—calculation, recognition.
Another surge of pressure descended.
The already unstable formation trembled again.
"Hold the formation!" he commanded.
His voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
Mistress Lu reacted without hesitation, relaying commands through the formation arrays. Runes lit up across the fleet as ships struggled to re-align and stabilize their positions.
Yun stood silent, but his presence steadied the space around him. His control was precise, reinforcing the formation at key points, allowing the disrupted structure to begin holding together again.
Elder Zhang glanced once more at the sky, then back at the Pavilion Master.
"What is this?"
This time, the Pavilion Master spoke.
His voice remained steady.
But the answer silenced everyone.
"…Sword intent."
The words spread across the deck like a cold wave.
No one questioned it.
They had already felt enough to understand.
Another surge pressed down—but this time, it did not strike as heavily.
Not because it had weakened on its own.
But because the fleet was already moving.
"Lower altitude," the Pavilion Master ordered.
"Immediately."
The command was executed without delay.
The entire fleet began descending in a controlled formation, moving away from the unstable high-altitude region.
As they dropped, the pressure gradually lessened.
The invisible cutting force faded.
The suffocating weight lifted.
Only then did the fleet begin to recover.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
Disciples slowly regained consciousness.
Others remained where they had fallen, still shaken, their bodies not yet responding fully.
No one spoke loudly.
Even the wind felt distant.
Above them, the sky remained unchanged.
But no one looked at it the same way anymore.
The fleet continued its descent.
Layer by layer, they moved down through the clouds until the blinding white finally broke apart. The world below came back into view—mountain ridges, deep valleys, and endless stone stretching toward the horizon.
For a brief moment, everything seemed normal again.
Then the frontmost ships slowed.
A subtle shift passed through the formation.
More and more disciples, now recovered enough to stand, began looking ahead.
And then—
They saw it.
Across the vast expanse of mountains, something was wrong.
The land… was broken.
Far in the distance, a single line stretched across the mountain range.
At first glance, it looked like a canyon.
But the longer one looked, the more unnatural it became.
It was too straight.
Too clean.
Too precise.
A section of the mountains had been severed.
Not collapsed.
Not eroded.
Cut.
The line extended farther than the eye could comfortably follow, slicing through peak after peak as if the mountains themselves had offered no resistance.
Even from this distance, its scale was overwhelming.
No rubble choked the gap.
No jagged fractures marked the edges.
Only a smooth, terrifying divide—like a wound that had never healed.
Silence spread across the fleet.
No one spoke.
No one questioned what they were seeing.
Because instinctively—
They understood.
Elder Zhang's usual confidence faded as he stared ahead.
"…That's not natural."
Mistress Lu stepped forward slightly, her gaze fixed on the distant scar.
There was recognition in her eyes.
"…Heaven's Scar."
The name settled heavily in the air.
Elder Zhang turned toward her.
"You've heard of it?"
Before she could answer, the Pavilion Master spoke.
"It is not just a name," he said calmly.
"It is a record."
He continued, his gaze still fixed on the distant horizon.
"Long ago, before this region took its current form, this mountain range was once unbroken. At that time, a battle took place here—one that few records describe in detail, and even fewer understand."
His voice remained steady, but there was weight behind every word.
"A sword cultivator struck once."
No one interrupted.
"That single strike split the mountains."
The fleet remained silent.
Even the wind seemed to quiet.
"The force of that strike did not disappear," the Pavilion Master continued. "It lingered. What we encountered above… was only a fragment of that remaining intent."
Elder Zhang let out a slow breath, his eyes returning to the scar.
"A single strike…" he murmured.
Mistress Lu nodded faintly.
"I've read mentions of it," she said. "Most texts treat it as an exaggeration. A symbolic description… not something literal."
Her gaze did not waver.
"…I was wrong."
The truth was in front of them.
Impossible to deny.
Yun said nothing.
He simply looked.
From this distance, the scar already felt overwhelming.
To imagine it up close—
To imagine the moment it was created—
His thoughts stilled.
What kind of existence…
…could leave something like this behind?
Not just the destruction.
But the intent.
Thousands of years had passed.
Yet the power of that strike still remained in the world, still capable of shaking an entire fleet and suppressing cultivators across multiple realms.
That was not something ordinary strength could achieve.
For the first time since the journey began—
Yun felt the scale of the world shift.
The mountains no longer felt vast.
They felt fragile.
And whatever had created that scar—
Stood far beyond them all.
The Pavilion Master did not speak further.
There was nothing more to explain.
The fleet resumed its steady movement, maintaining a lower altitude as it continued forward.
No one suggested returning to higher skies.
No one questioned the decision.
Above them, hidden once more by clouds—
The remnants of that ancient strike still lingered.
End of Chapter 81