Jian Wu stood aloof on the battlefield, his sword slick with enemy blood. To him, those below the great emperor realm were mere ants, and even those above it posed little challenge. With each swing of his sword, heads dropped like petals, lifeless bodies falling in his wake. He cut through the cultivators with effortless precision, his strikes as smooth and relentless as a knife slicing through butter.
No one in the Shadow Sect had anticipated someone like Jian Wu within the Sword Sect. "He's stronger than even their sect master... by a large margin," the Shadow Sect's great elder muttered, his expression dark and troubled.
Taking a decisive stance, he raised a finger toward Jian Wu. "All cultivators above the emperor realm, leave the small fry for the others—focus on killing this man!" he commanded.
Hearing the order, no one looked shocked. Previously, they might have thought that the great elder had lost his mind. But watching Jian Wu cut down high-ranking members one by one, they knew the call was sound. In fact, many had already considered rallying the elites to surround and overwhelm him.
In an instant, hundreds of shadows who had surpassed the emperor realm closed in, weapons drawn and eyes menacing as they stared him down.
"You're strong," one shadow sneered. "It's a pity you'll die today."
"However," another added, "if you're willing to join us, we might consider letting you go."
Jian Wu shook his head, unimpressed. "Remember, those who talk too much in battle die faster."
"You—"
"Everyone, attack him at once!" the shadow at the front shouted, channeling his strength into his weapon.
In an instant, the cultivators surged forward, unleashing a barrage of mystical techniques. The sheer weight of their combined power pressed down on Jian Wu, nearly driving him to his knees. Yet, amid the overwhelming force, a smirk played on his lips as he surveyed the approaching swarm. "So, you're not holding back at all, are you?" he muttered, amusement flickering in his eyes and voice.
If Jian Wu had been at his full strength, he could have cut down hundreds of them with ease. But exhaustion weighed on him, and with over two hundred powerful cultivators closing in, taking them all down felt nearly impossible.
Still, he wasn't worried for himself. His only concern was for the Sword Sect disciples fighting beside him. Would they be slaughtered once he fell? No, I can't let that happen, he thought, resolve flaring in his eyes.
With a commanding shout, Jian Wu raised his voice. "All disciples of the Sword Sect, as your eldest disciple, I command everyone below the emperor realm—run! Leave the Sword Sect and save yourselves! You're only a burden here!"
Upon hearing his words, the disciples immediately understood Jian Wu's true intention. His aim wasn't to belittle them; he wanted them to survive, even if it meant they had to retreat. A deep warmth filled their hearts—a shared love for their sect, their brothers, and everything they had vowed to protect. Memories flooded back: how they had grown within these walls, how everyone had treated them with kindness and camaraderie, making this place their home. The thought of abandoning it, even to save their lives, was unthinkable.
They exchanged determined glances, their eyes blazing with fierce loyalty. "We stand with the Sword Sect!" they shouted in unison. "If the Sword Sect falls, then we fall with it!"
Jian Wu was taken aback by their fierce unity, but a slow smile spread across his face. Shaking his head, he replied, "We are sword cultivators. We live by the sword, and we die by the sword."
With renewed vigor, every disciple echoed his words, their voices resonating with unwavering resolve: "We are sword cultivators. We live by the sword, and we die by the sword."
Empowered by their shared courage, the Sword Sect disciples began to fight with fierce determination. Their thoughts of survival vanished; all that remained was their single resolve—to drive out the intruders, even at the cost of their lives.
They wielded their swords relentlessly, but the harsh truth of their world weighed on them. In this universe ruled by strength, bravery alone was not enough to survive.
Though the disciples fought valiantly, the shadows were formidable. No matter how fiercely they attacked, the shadows blocked them with ease, as though toying with mere children.
"You're all ignorant," one of the shadows sneered, taking a menacing stance. "Your fate has always been in our hands. You're only alive because we've been toying with you," he continued, a chilling finality creeping into his voice. "But now, playtime is over."
He channeled his strength into his sword, and instantly, an overwhelming sword qi burst forth, slicing into their skin before even making contact. A chilling dread swept over the disciples, their blood turning to ice as they stared at the shadow before them.
In that moment, the shadow no longer appeared human—he was death itself, merciless and inevitable. Yet, as they faced him, there was no fear left in them; they had given everything they had. Now, they could finally rest.
As the shadow's sword arced through the air, the disciples closed their eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of their lips.
"We can finally rest in peace," they murmured, accepting their fate with a contented sigh.
They relaxed, letting their bodies go slack as they waited for the end to come. But... nothing happened.
One disciple frowned, confusion stirring as he whispered, "Why... why don't I feel any pain?" Slowly, he opened his eyes—and his breath caught. Standing before him, like an unbreakable wall, was a figure both strong and familiar.
"Senior Brother Wen Lun," he gasped, awe and relief flooding through him.
The disciples couldn't contain the surge of joy welling up within them. Wen Lun and Jian Wu were like an impenetrable wall, and with them standing at the forefront, the disciples felt a renewed sense of safety. Though they had resigned themselves to die, the truth was—who truly wishes for death? If there was a chance to survive, they'd seize it with all their might. Now, seeing Wen Lun standing tall before them, his aura as potent as, if not stronger than, Jian Wu's, they felt hope blossom anew.
With a casual flick of his wrist, Wen Lun swung his sword, blocking every incoming strike with effortless grace. To him, these powerful foes were nothing more than unruly children, their attacks dissolving against him as though met by an unbreakable shield.
From the sect grounds, Eli Shan glanced upward, a faint smile playing on his lips. "So, Senior Brother has managed to merge with the dragon heart, huh?" Then, turning his gaze to the intricate formation he'd woven around him, he murmured, "Well, I'm nearly finished too."
Eli Shan had mastered tens of thousands of formations from ancient texts; creating one was child's play. Yet, this formation had taken him much longer—not because of complexity alone, but because it was entirely new, born from an idea that had sparked in his mind on a whim. The result filled him with quiet pride as he admired his latest creation.
Above the sect, Wen Lun turned to face the disciples behind him. Seeing their battered forms, his heart clenched. Each one of them was injured from head to toe, their bodies drenched in blood. Yet, through sheer resolve, they stood tall, unyielding.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Wen Lun said softly, bowing before them.
The disciples flinched, surprised by the gesture. "Eh? Senior Brother, what are you doing?"
"Yes, yes! This is a battlefield. We came here ready to die. You don't owe us an apology."
"Besides, you saved us in time. We're just glad you're here, Senior Brother."
Wen Lun straightened, giving them a solemn nod, though his expression remained serene. Before he could reply, a familiar voice cut through the chaos, loud and clear. "Hey, Wen Lun! If you've got time to chat, how about coming over here to save me too?"
Wen Lun turned toward the sound and saw Jian Wu, somehow managing to hold his own against more than two hundred cultivators who had all surpassed the emperor realm. He surveyed the scene, realizing that all the strongest opponents were focused on Jian Wu—and yet, even under this siege, they couldn't bring him down. Wen Lun sighed, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. "Senior Brother is as incredible as ever."
Blocking another wave of attacks, Jian Wu called out again, "Hey! Don't just stand there sighing! Clear out those weak emperors and come lend me a hand!"
Hearing this, Wen Lun let out a quiet laugh, a small smile curving his lips as he launched into motion, swift and silent as a whisper in the wind. In an instant, he was among the enemy ranks; shadows fell without even realizing he had moved, their vision blurring as the ground seemed to flip beneath them.
"Y-You..." Their eyes widened in shock as one by one their lifeless bodies fell to the ground.
The Great Elder of the Shadows watched in frustration, gritting his teeth. "How many monsters are hiding in this tiny sect?" His gaze swept across the battlefield, noting grimly that all those above the emperor realm were already locked in combat with Jian Wu. But Wen Lun was proving to be just as dangerous, he couldn't be left unchecked. Narrowing his eyes, he barked, "All remaining shadows, forget about the small fry! Take him down!"
At once, more than four hundred shadows halted their assault on the remaining sect disciples and surged toward Wen Lun. In moments, he was entirely surrounded by hundreds of cultivators, each at the peak stage of the emperor realm.
Wen Lun sighed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Sigh, you all think too highly of me. Sending all the cultivators just for me... I have to admit, I'm flattered."
The shadows bristled at his arrogance. "You may be strong," one sneered, "but if we were at our peak, a mere glance would be enough to erase you from existence."
At this, Wen Lun let out a deep, booming laugh. "Hahahaha!"
The sneering shadow frowned, unsettled by Wen Lun's confidence. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Wen Lun's laughter stopped abruptly, leaving only an eerie stillness in its wake. He turned to the shadow who had spoken, his gaze narrowing, eyes sharp as a blade's edge. "A mere gaze is enough, huh?" he murmured, each word heavy with an unsettling calm. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the shadow felt an unsettling pull, as if Wen Lun's stare was an abyss—a boundless void, cold and unyielding, drawing him in.
The shadow's breath hitched, his pulse slowing to an icy crawl. His vision blurred as he stared into that black depth, a pit with no escape. His strength vanished; knees buckling, as he dropped without a sound. His eyes grew blank, and his life faded away, leaving his body in a frozen stillness on the ground.
The other shadows froze, their sneers dissolving into wide-eyed horror. They stared at their fallen comrade, then back at Wen Lun, dread seeping into their faces. One of them stumbled back, his voice barely a whisper. "W-What... what did you do?"
Wen Lun didn't even move. No attack, no sound. Just a look—one cold, piercing stare—and their comrade was dead. The realization clawed at their minds, refusing to settle, leaving them speechless and unsteady, struggling to grasp the silent terror before them.
From a distance, Jian Wu caught sight of Wen Lun's actions and yelled over even as he fought through a swarm of cultivators. "Wen Lun! Do you have any idea what you're doing? Pull a stunt like that again, and I'll deal with you myself!"
Wen Lun's body tensed, a shiver running down his spine at his senior brother's words. "I... I'm sorry, Senior Brother," he stammered, his tone shaky. "He mocked me, and... I couldn't control myself."
Jian Wu let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't let it happen again. Finish them quickly and get over here!"
Wen Lun nodded, his face a mixture of guilt and resolve. "Yes, Senior Brother," he replied, steadying himself as he prepared to unleash his full strength.
He took a step forward, facing the shadows, and in that instant, an intimidating aura radiated from him, just like a brewing storm. Sensing his aura, the shadows involuntarily stepped back, their instincts screaming danger.
From a distance, the Great Elder of the shadows observed them and realized something: the shadows were... afraid. But why? Moments ago, Jian Wu had been cutting them down mercilessly, slicing through them like mere blades of grass—yet not one had shown such terror. So why, in front of this man, did they appear as if they wanted to flee with their tails between their legs?
Soon, the Great Elder found his answer: this man carried something within him—an aura so terrifying that, with a single look, it felt as though one were gazing into the depths of an ancient demon's wrath. It was a power beyond mortal comprehension, a presence that made even the bravest feel as if they were nothing more than prey. The mere thought of this demon's name could send chills down spines, and in his presence, the shadows quivered, the instinct to flee overwhelming every fiber of their being.
Realizing the imminent threat, the Great Elder bellowed, "What are you all waiting for? Attack! All of you, now! Or must I handle him myself?"
His words jolted the shadows into action. "Y-Yeah... everyone, attack him at once!" one of them stammered, rallying the others.
In unison, they took their stances, preparing to strike. Yet Wen Lun stood his ground, unfazed. His intimidating aura surged, and his eyes glowed a fierce red. Dark scales began to spread over his hands and legs, radiating a power so intense that it warped the space around him.
"The dragon heart... he's already merged with it?"
The realization struck fear into the shadows. Without another moment's hesitation, they unleashed their full strength. "Attack!"
In an instant, hundreds of mystical techniques launched toward Wen Lun, their combined power so overwhelming that it shattered buildings and leveled mountains in its wake, the sheer pressure alone tearing the landscape apart.
Even Wen Lun felt the crushing weight of the onslaught. "Not holding back at all, huh?" he muttered, gritting his teeth as he steadied himself against the overwhelming force.
"Looks like I can't hold back either." Wen Lun's voice was low but charged with a deadly resolve. Gripping his sword with both hands, he summoned a fierce, ancient dragon aura from deep within. The very air around him trembled as the aura flared, dark and menacing, coiling like a storm ready to strike.
With a focused breath, Wen Lun channeled every ounce of his power into his blade. Muscles tightened, veins bulged across his hands and arms, pulsing with raw energy. Then, in one fluid, devastating motion, he swung his sword forward, unleashing a slash that crackled with the fury of an ancient dragon.
The dragon's aura erupted from the blade, stretching into the form of an enormous, spectral dragon—its jaws wide, eyes blazing, and scales shimmering with an otherworldly glow. It tore forward, devouring the oncoming attacks as if they were nothing more than sparks in a storm.
"What...?" The shadows' eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Even the Great Elder of the shadows, usually unshaken, could hardly believe what he was seeing. The dragon should have dissipated after consuming their attacks, but instead, it grew—expanding into a colossal, spectral beast, its scales gleaming with an ancient power as it turned its gaze upon them.
"No...!" the shadows screamed, their voices laced with panic as they attempted to escape. But the dragon moved with an unimaginable speed, so swift that time itself seemed to halt in its presence. Shadows barely had a moment to react before the monstrous phantom swept through them.
In a single, devastating pass, the dragon consumed everything in its path. Shadows turned to mist, their bodies disintegrating into nothingness, not even a trace of bone or cloth left behind. Silence fell, the weight of the dragon's power leaving the battlefield in haunting stillness.
"Huff... huff... I'll need a higher cultivation to use that technique again," Wen Lun whispered, completely drained. His body ached, and every ounce of his energy was depleted. But before he could catch his breath, his eyes widened, and a tremor of shock rippled through him.
Before him loomed another attack—not just any attack, but one of unimaginable power, a force that dwarfed the very technique he'd just barely countered. And this time, it wasn't aimed at him. It was hurtling straight for Jian Wu, a devastating combination unleashed by the combined might of more than two hundred Great Emperors!
"No! Senior brother!" Wen Lun shouted, desperation flaring in his eyes. Mustering every remaining ounce of power, he launched himself forward in a desperate attempt to reach Jian Wu. But he knew it was hopeless; there was no way he could intercept it in time.
Jian Wu, however, looked calmly at the incoming attack, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I told you to come sooner, didn't I?" he murmured. "Now what's the point of rushing here, huh?"
The attack was so immense that even the sect master, fighting outside the planet, felt its deadly aura slice through the air, grazing his skin. He gritted his teeth, trying to push toward the planet to aid Jian Wu, but the Shadow Sect Elder blocked his path, laughing coldly.
"You think you're going to save him?" the elder sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "First, I'm not done playing with you. And second... you're just a trash compared to him. Just who do you think you are, trying to interfere?"
The sect master clenched his fists, his frustration simmering beneath a mask of silence. Powerless—that's what he was. He had been watching everything unfold within the sect, and now, the truth hit hard: his two disciples had long surpassed him, climbing heights he could barely imagine.
From space, he noticed something unusual too—a strange force, quietly shielding his planet. Without it, the sheer power unleashed within the sect would have torn the world to pieces. The intensity of the battle was beyond anything he'd ever witnessed. Even the strike Jian Wu now faced radiated enough destructive energy to shatter entire realms, threatening the very fabric of the universe—let alone a single planet within it.
He wasn't sure what kind of power was shielding his planet, or if its intentions were good or bad. Yet he understood, with a bitter clarity, that even if it were malevolent, he was helpless to stop it. Frustration twisted within him, and he bit his lip in anger. With no other choice, he began to channel every forbidden technique he knew, unleashing his full wrath upon the shadow elder.
The elder easily blocked all the attacks and laughed at his weakness, "Hahaha, entertain me more, trash!"
Inside the planet...
As the attack approached, Jian Wu gripped his sword with both hands, holding it before his face. A heavy sigh escaped him. "So, this is it," he murmured. "Time to rest in peace."
Exhausted, he had nothing left to give. A faint smile crossed his face as he awaited death. But just before the attack could reach him, a familiar figure stepped in front of him.
"Great Elder!" he gasped.
The Great Elder of the Sword Sect was a peak Emperor. But, the oncoming attacks bore the combined force of hundreds of Great Emperors. How could he possibly withstand such a barrage? It was impossible—just one of these attacks held enough power to annihilate him! Still, he made his choice. Against all odds, he stepped forward, choosing to become a shield, a final wall, for his disciple.
Jian Wu's eyes widened as he cried out, "Great Elder, run! You can't survive this!"
But the Great Elder only smiled, gathering his strength as he delivered a powerful push that sent Jian Wu flying back. "Brat, get out of here. Live... and if fate allows, avenge me when you're strong enough. Now, go."
With that, he turned, a calm smile still on his face, as he unleashed his ultimate technique.
"Sword of Annihilation!"
A devastating slash surged forth, filled with raw destruction and the power of space itself. It collided with the incoming attacks, stalling them for a fleeting moment. But it was merely a delay—he could do nothing more to hold them back.
The Great Elder stood tall, meeting the oncoming attacks without a hint of fear. In an instant, the strikes crashed into him, one after another.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
"Great Elder!" Jian Wu, Wen Lun, and the other disciples screamed, their voices filled with despair. But when the smoke cleared, all that remained was a razed mountain and the lingering ash of the Great Elder.