Danger on level seven outstripped anything level six could offer, but choice had already turned to necessity.
Friendship, he decided, was worth wagering his life.
"Mr. Vermilion, do you think I should follow him to level seven?" he asked the Vermilion Demon Lord, voice low but steady.
"The decision is yours," the Vermilion Demon Lord answered, words drifting like distant thunder. "Remember—level seven's perils dwarf level six. Still, with your current cultivation, you should be able to carve out a place—so long as you don't stumble into a true monster."
Jared dipped his head. "Understood."
He stood at Earthly Immortal Realm Level Five; untested in battle, yet confident he could handle a Human Immortal Realm Level Three opponent.
Most level-seven cultivators, he reckoned, topped out around Human Immortal Realm Level Five. Unless fate hurled him at a lunatic, he could survive.
And should he press on to level eight, Onneas would be there—a hidden ace that let him breathe easier at the thought of skies yet higher.
Aurelius' brows knit with worry, the torchlight licking across his cheekbones as he stopped in front of Jared. "Jared, tell me straight—are you really planning to march into level seven?"
Jared drew a long breath, the resolve already burning in his eyes. "Yes. I won't stand by and let Mr. Flaxseed take that risk alone."
Aurelius lowered his voice, the weight of command seeping through every syllable. "If you've truly decided, I won't chain your feet. Just be careful. Level seven is deeper than it looks. One slip could cost everything."
Jared nodded once, the motion firm, final. "I will."
A golden light blossomed in Jared's palm, swirling into a blazing sigil that tore open a shimmering void passage—the only road to level seven.
With his present Earthly Immortal cultivation, such a doorway yielded like silk beneath a blade.
He gave Aurelius a quick, grateful wave, then stepped into the roiling passage without another glance back.
Jared hadn't dared to bid farewell to Artemis or Yuliana—both women would have anchored him with pleas, maybe chains.
Knowing them, they'd have wrung one more promise—perhaps one more secret—from him before letting go.
He already felt half-drained from their last round of persuasion.
Inside the void passage, his pulse steadied. At this power, the trek to level seven should have been routine—no lurking peril worth a second thought.
Jared clenched his teeth until blood touched enamel, fighting to keep his thoughts from splintering.
He was a toy skiff on a wrathful sea, spun powerless toward some unseen horizon.
Time, distance—every measure he trusted—vanished. He had no idea how long he tumbled, nor where the torrent aimed him.
When awareness finally returned, he lay flat on a stretch of desolate earth, dust caking his lips.
"Where... am I?" he whispered, voice ragged.
Slowly he pushed up, eyes sweeping the barren waste in stunned confusion.
He unleashed his divine sense—only to recoil in disbelief at what he read.
This world held not a whisper of celestial energy. Only the thinner pulse of ordinary spiritual energy stirred the air.
Impossible. How could this be? This isn't the Celestial Realm at all—Have I somehow been thrown back into the Ethereal Realm?

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