Using the time he had left, Amon stayed quiet. He didn't waste a second on training. First, he needed to understand what had actually happened.
That guy… he didn't appear on any official records in our region. No wanted posters, no bounty lists, no announcements about dangerous cultivators.
So he went to the library—quiet, deep in the restricted archives where only Outer Disciples were allowed.
He cross-referenced older scrolls, searched sect history records, and followed traces in the Disaster Records of the Eastern Peaks.
And then he found something.
The cultivator who destroyed their Sect didn't belong to the Flowery Continent.
He's not from here. That's why there's no information on him.
He traced the pattern. According to border incident records and testimonies of ruined Sects far to the east, this man had been destroying cultivation sects for over two hundred years. Never for resources, or never for territory. And never for a reason anyone could prove.
Just destruction.
One sect described him in a battle log: "Black-cloaked man, pale eyes like moons, no sect emblem, no spiritual presence until the first blow."
Another recorded: "He moved like he had no realm, then fought like he was beyond Ascension."
And a final one: "We didn't provoke him. He simply arrived."
Amon leaned back on the wooden floor and stared at the ceiling.
Then why us? Why the Twin Headed Flame Sect?
No one had answered that question. Not one surviving sect ever found a connection.
And now, in this second loop, Amon chose to stay inside the Sect.
He waited.
Two months passed. He trained only the essential stances, taught Zai Ren and Airi what little he could, and continued to act as though nothing was wrong.
But every day, he counted.
The day came.
Thunder cracked overhead. The clouds turned black. This time, Amon didn't flinch.
He was already standing in the main courtyard as flames began falling from the sky.
He would face it directly.
The sky cracked open.
Thunder rolled as the man descended from the clouds like a shadow torn out of the heavens.
Amon stepped forward.
"Hey…"
The man tilted his head. "How do you know I was coming?"
"I'm built different," Amon said. Then he raised both hands.
Without taking a step, blades of spiritual mana ripped through the air like they were being pulled by strings.
Sword slashes, dozens of them, invisible and fast.
Amon blocked them one by one, barely holding form.
Then the man moved.
He didn't run—he just appeared, and a bolt of thunder from the heavens smashed the Sect's highest pagoda into ash.
Everything behind Amon exploded. Fire surged from the cracks in the ground.
Before Amon could even reposition, a kick hit his side and launched him across the forest. He smashed through four trees, rolled, and groaned.
Then—he was there again.
"You're faster than last time," the man said, raising one hand. "But not enough."
Amon didn't answer.
He flicked his blade out, backstepped, and surged in again. Kusanagi clashed with the man's palm—a bare palm.The impact blew open the ground beneath their feet.
Amon twisted his core, changed stance, swung high, then swept low—but every attack was deflected with fingers or elbows. The man didn't even seem to be trying.
Amon used Idle Break, slashed from his backhand, then drove his heel into the man's side, but the man caught his leg and slammed him into the dirt.
Then—
"Amon!!"
It was Airi's voice.
This again… this is when—
"DON'T! LEAVE NOW!" Amon shouted. "RUN!"
But she didn't.
She dashed into the fight. She ducked a strike, spun, and jabbed toward the man's spine. He turned, eyes barely glancing, and slashed.
Amon shouted, "NO—!"
But it was too late.
She fell.
Blood pooled under her, and Amon screamed, lunging forward. He struck over and over, a storm of wild attacks, and even then, he couldn't land a single fatal blow.
The man knocked him back, palm to chest, and Amon flew, bounced, crashed through stone.
Time passed.
He didn't know how long.
Then the man stood over him. He looked down. "You're not even a challenge."
He vanished.
Everything was burning again.
Amon couldn't move. "I'm going to die…"
But then—he felt something warm.
Airi's hand.
She was alive.
She was healed—fully.
Then the tremor hit.
The skies cracked.
Above them, a giant beam of light formed.
Amon couldn't stand, but he pulled her close.
"ARGHH!!"
The laser fell and he died.
---
"ARGHH!!!"
He woke up on a grassy hill near the Sect, and the morning sun was just rising above the mountains.
This doesn't make sense. The last checkpoint wasn't here... so why here?
He stood up slowly.
He remembered dying near the Sect's collapse. Airi had been killed and revived, a laser came from the sky, and then he died holding her.
Airi was nearby, kneeling beside a bush and picking berries. She looked calm, like nothing had happened.
What time is this? How far back did I return?
"Good morning, Amon," she said with a light tone. "You're up early again."
He blinked. "What day is it?"
"Huh? It's the day after our martial stance drills, remember? Karou said we had a break today, so I thought I'd gather food early."
He nodded but didn't answer. That means… this is before we became Outer Disciples.
He walked back toward the Sect and approached the main gates.
One of the elders spotted him and raised an eyebrow. "You again? If you're not an Outer Disciple yet, then you're not allowed in the library."
"What?" he muttered. "I am—"
But he stopped himself. If the elder didn't recognize his status, then he really was back in a timeline before his promotion.
So the checkpoint this time was before the serpent quest. That means I've lost months of progress. But...
His thoughts raced. Maybe this is a chance. The checkpoint isn't set by rest or sleep. It seems to trigger at important turning points or quest anchors... maybe when I gain or finish something critical?
He left the Sect and made his way to the city's public library. He needed information. Since he couldn't enter the Sect's archives yet, the local library was his only option.
He searched for books on world geography and continental history. He flipped through faded pages, scanned regional maps, and memorized borders.
If that man came from another continent, I need to know where. I need to know who he is, what Sect he's from, and why he's erasing other Sects like ours.
He finally found a passage describing old legends of rogue cultivators from beyond the Flowery Continent.
One name was underlined in red ink: The Bone-Spined Calamity, a Resonance of The Guiding Principles Realm cultivator from the Black Banner Sect of the Hollow Sky Continent.
Amon's eyes narrowed.
He kept digging through the maps and scrolls, trying to place everything clearly.
The Hollow Sky Continent was located north of the Northern Continent, which itself was just north of the Flowery Continent where he was now.
The distances were vast, and crossing from one to another was no small feat—it required long sea voyages or crossing dangerous mountain ranges that few dared to traverse.
So, this man who attacked the Sect isn't from here. He came from a completely different world zone, one that few in the Flowery Continent even knew about.
The Flowery Continent, with its lush forests, towering sects, and deep spiritual mana veins, was considered relatively isolated.
Powerful sects guarded its borders fiercely, and travel beyond was limited to only the most daring or skilled cultivators.
The Northern Continent was colder, harsher, and full of ancient secrets—ancient Principles and bloodlines lost to time.
The Hollow Sky Continent, even further north, was said to be the land of ruthless warlords and fierce cultivators who sought ultimate dominance through brutal strength and dark techniques.
He thought back to the God of Death's words—the warning that all events, even those that seemed random, were tied to greater cosmic chains.
If the man's attack on their Sect wasn't random, then it had to be triggered by something.
Like if you punch someone, it could start a war or a revolution. Actions cause reactions, and sometimes those reactions spiral far beyond what anyone expects.
Using that logic, the Sect's destruction was no accident—it was the result of something else, maybe a sequence set in motion long ago.
There was a domino effect at play, where each event pushed the next into place, and what looked like a sudden assault was actually part of a grander plan.
Could it be related to the quest Kazou gave us? If that quest wasn't completed, would the Sect still be attacked? But if I don't complete it, I don't become an Outer Disciple. Then again, becoming an Outer Disciple isn't my true goal.
My real goal is knowledge, power, and to stop Luciano on the Northern Continent, save Veyra, and protect Lady Guinevere.
He clenched his fists. So maybe, I won't do the quest. I need to focus on the bigger picture. I have to break this chain of events before it all collapses.
The research made one thing clear—the world was vast, complicated, and interconnected.
The Flowery Continent had its sacred grounds and hidden sects, but beyond its borders lay countless threats and mysteries.
Many sects kept their knowledge secret, and the spiritual mana that fueled cultivation shifted in strength and style across continents.
If he wanted to survive and change fate, he'd need to understand these forces, navigate the political tensions between continents, and unravel the motivations behind the man from the Hollow Sky Continent.
Only then could he stop the destruction and save those who mattered most.