Weapon seller in the world of magic-Chapter 698: The Sect Head Trials (Part-4)

The black figure paused immediately, shrinking back with a reluctant grunt. Mark raised an eyebrow at the strange exchange but didn’t pry. Whatever the black tribunal recognized, it was clear the red one didn’t want him speaking about it.

The white tribunal floated a little closer, its form shimmering softly. "Alright, let us proceed to the next part," she said gently.

She lifted both of her sleeves. Light gathered at her palms, swirling and solidifying until two artifacts appeared, floating above her hands.

One radiated sharp, lethal intent, an elegant sword with a crimson edge, humming with enough power to make even Mark’s breath hitch for a moment.

The other was a shield made of pure luminescent energy, simple in shape but overflowing with comforting warmth, like an invisible wall made for an entire army.

The white tribunal spoke, her voice ringing with clarity.

"In my right hand, the sword. It is a treasure capable of allowing you to kill even a third-stage transcendent with certainty. It can cut through realms above your own. However, it cannot be gifted or shared. Only you may wield it."

She raised her left hand.

"In this hand, the shield. A defensive treasure capable of protecting your entire sect against attacks from a second-stage transcendent, a power equivalent to thirteen-and-a-half circles. However, this treasure cannot be carried out. Once claimed, it must be placed in the Sect Head Hall, where it will protect only your sect, not you personally."

The two treasures floated closer, humming slightly. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"You may choose only one," the white tribunal said. "Whichever you choose will be yours permanently."

Mark stared at the sword for a long moment. Its blade gleamed, sharp enough to cut through space itself. He could feel the energy pouring out of it, violent, precise, domineering.

Then he turned his gaze to the shield. It radiated a calm, vast presence, like an unseen guardian standing firmly with no desire to show off.

He immediately understood the intention behind this test.

Strength for himself... or security for the entire sect.

The white tribunal watched him carefully, expecting hesitation.

But Mark didn’t even blink.

He stepped forward, reached out his hand, and took the shield.

The moment his fingers touched it, the artifact pulsed lightly, acknowledging him.

"Reason." She asked, withdrawing the artifacts to herself.

Mark spoke without ceremony, his tone firm and simple. "First of all, swords aren’t my thing," he said, glancing at the white tribunal casually. "I prefer guns."

To prove his point, he lifted his hand and resummoned a pair of Adamantine Desert Eagle Guns again. Their presence alone made the black tribunal draw in a sharp breath, and even the red tribunal subtly shifted.

After a moment, Mark dismissed the guns back into his inventory.

"Secondly," he continued, "I already have enough firepower to kill a third-stage transcendent on my own. I don’t need a sword for that."

His voice carried no arrogance, only calm certainty. It was simply a fact.

He turned his attention back to the shield resting in his palm, feeling the warm energy pulse through his fingers like a heartbeat.

"But this defensive treasure can protect the entire sect," Mark said. "And since I’m the patriarch now, ensuring their survival is more important than giving myself a flashy weapon."

He held the shield with both hands, weighing it gently.

"This... is more useful for me."

The white tribunal remained silent for a breath, her faceless head lowering slightly, as though she were smiling.

"Your reasoning is somewhat different from what your predecessors have chosen, but," she said quietly. "Regardless... we accept your answer."

The white tribunal then drifted closer and said, "If you pass this trial, the artifact shall be bestowed upon you permanently. But for now... let us move on to the third test."

With a slight wave of her arm, a golden ripple appeared in front of Mark. The ripple twisted, expanded, and solidified into a massive floating mirror, its frame carved in gold, its surface smooth like liquid sunlight.

Then the surface rippled.

Images bloomed inside like blooming flowers.

Mark’s eyes widened as he found himself staring at himself. He was naked on a very large bed, bigger than even a king-size bed.

And he was not alone. There are a few familiar but naked figures along.

Song Yue lay curled against his chest.

Shen Ling sprawled across his legs.

Lan Xia clung to his shoulder with flushed cheeks.

Sylvandria lay tangled in his arms.

Alina was also there, sitting right across his face.

And even the Moon Goddess Chang’e, ethereal and breathtaking, leaned into him with her lips brushing his neck.

All of them were naked. All of them were touching him. All of them were engaged in a group s*x. And his naked self was clearly enjoying himself... far too much.

Mark’s expression went stiff at the scene.

His mind instantly blanked.

The white tribunal’s voice came gently, but without judgment. "You possess a high degree of lust. Do you accept?"

For the first time since stepping into the temple, Mark’s confidence wavered. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he stared at the embarrassing, shamefully accurate reflection of his private desires. He felt heat creep up his neck.

The scene looked like something straight out of his wildest fantasy, except... disturbingly realistic.

As a man with multiple wives, he too sometimes fantasizes of having sex with all of them at once. But he didn’t expect Chang’e would be in that fantasy too. Maybe it’s because subconsciously, he was acknowledging their relationship from a past life? But Alina, though? He never thought of her that way? Maybe, it’s because of their kiss back when he was single? He couldn’t help but wonder.

He tore his gaze away with effort and looked at the tribunal.

"Yes," he admitted slowly. "I accept."

But then he forced himself to breathe and continue, even as embarrassment stabbed him like a thousand needles.

"But I never chased women. Not even once. They were the ones who came to me... and I merely..." He paused, realization flickering across his eyes. "Accepted them..."

That moment of honesty struck him harder than any attack ever had. His thoughts sharpened. His emotions steadied. And the fog of awkwardness lifted like smoke dissipating in the wind.

The white tribunal nodded gently.

The image dissolved into golden dust.

Then the mirror flickered again, and a new scene took shape.

It was a war this time.

Mark stood at the center of a battlefield, looking down at the armies clashing beneath his feet. high above in the sky, aircraft were seen bombing down the enemies.

And in front of him were collapsing cities.

Mark’s jaw tightened at the scene

The white tribunal spoke again.

"You possess a high degree of ambition. You crave battle. You crave domination. You desire destruction. Do you accept?"

Mark closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. When he opened them again, they were calmer, colder, but honest.

"No," he said firmly. "I don’t accept that."

The tribunal waited for his reasoning.

Mark continued, his voice steady and clear this time.

"Yes, I’ve waged wars," he admitted. "Some were revenge. Some were strategic. Some were because I needed to protect my people by expanding my influence. But I never waged war for destruction. I never enjoy destruction. I punish people, I might have wronged innocents too, even knowingly, but I never enjoy their pain and suffering, I never enjoy their deaths..."

He lifted his hand toward the mirror, as if touching the illusion.

"And also, in the wars I’ve participated in, the number of innocent casualties was far less than any major war in history. The damage was done more to the structures and economy, rather than to people. And after taking the land, I didn’t act like a tyrant. I didn’t abandon the people. I rebuilt them. I gave them security. I fed them. I made their lives better than before I arrived."

The white tribunal tilted her head slightly, as if impressed.

"And that," Mark said, lowering his hand, "is something I’m not ashamed of."

The image faded as the white tribunal spoke. "Very well."

This time, when the mirror resurfaced, it displayed a scene drenched in gold.

Mark was laughing joyfully as he rolled in mountains upon mountains of treasures, adamantine bars, ether crystals, rare herbs, and priceless relics. He was piled under a sea of wealth, looking like a greedy dragon basking in his hoard.

The white tribunal’s voice echoed once more. "You possess endless greed for wealth. Do you accept?"