In the midst of the shattered garden, Wei Jun stood as a figure of unrelenting strength, his silhouette sharp against the silvery glow of the moon. The garden, once a serene haven filled with delicate flowers and lush greenery, now lay in ruins, its remnants a testament to the overwhelming power that had been unleashed. Scattered petals danced in the air, carried by the residual energy still lingering, as the tranquil beauty of nature clashed with the primal force of martial prowess. His body, though not visibly strained, held the tension of a taut bowstring, prepared for another clash. It was as if he were a war god reborn—unyielding, unstoppable.
Wei Jun's aura burned fierce and wild, untamed like a beast freshly unchained. His breath came out steady, yet with a subtle undercurrent of tension. He stood tall, his feet planted firmly in the debris, his gaze cold and calculating as he scanned the ruined battlefield. His eyes locked onto Dao Wei, who remained calm, eyes closed, as if oblivious to the chaos that surrounded him. The contrast between the two warriors was striking—one radiating the intensity of a storm, the other a calm sea of unshakable confidence.
Behind Wei Jun, the manifestation of his Martial Soul, the War God, loomed large. The divine figure's plated armor shone under the moonlight, each groove engraved with the symbols of forgotten battles and ancient conquests. His muscles, bulging under the weight of his armor, exuded a primal strength that could move mountains. His molten-gold eyes, glowing with a hunger for battle, were fixed on Dao Wei with an expression of disdainful challenge. The air trembled in response to the god's oppressive power. Every inch of his plated armor glistened with the sheen of war.
The two massive war swords strapped to the War God's back vibrated, eager for destruction, their bloodthirsty aura palpable in the still air. Even the moonlight seemed to shy away from him, its silvery beams distorted by the oppressive energy that radiated from his form. The ground beneath Wei Jun and his War God quaked, unable to bear the immense power emanating from the duo.
The tension in the air was palpable, a heady mix of power, fury, and destruction. The War God's very existence was an oppressive force, bending the reality around them. The ground quivered beneath Wei Jun's feet, unable to bear the sheer weight of the god's power. The sky, seemingly aware of the impending conflict, began to ripple, the clouds parting to make way for the immense forces gathering below.
Wei Jun exhaled slowly, his resolve unshakable. He took a single step forward, and with that motion, his aura flared into an even brighter, blinding silver light. The ground buckled under his weight, cracks spiderwebbing outward. His sword resonated with the War God's energy, the blade humming with a frequency that seemed to resonate with the moon itself. The sky above them rippled, as though the heavens were making way for the display of power about to unfold.
The War God, mimicking Wei Jun's movements, unsheathed one of the colossal swords strapped to his back. The sword glistened in the moonlight, a towering embodiment of destruction. Every swing from the War God created shockwaves that rippled through the garden, reducing what little remained of its beauty to dust. The sheer force behind every movement was enough to send tremors through the earth, making the very landscape quake in fear of what was coming. Together, their energies coalesced, a singular force of overwhelming power. The moon above swelled in size, its light amplifying the strength of Wei Jun's blade, casting an eerie, silver light over the battlefield.
Then, Wei Jun made his move. He raised his sword high, and with it, the War God followed. Their synchronization was perfect, each movement a reflection of the other's intent. As they brought their blades down, the world seemed to slow. From the tip of Wei Jun's sword, a torrent of blades emerged—hundreds, then thousands of ethereal blades materialized out of the thin night air. Each one was forged from the moonlight, silver and sharp, swirling in a chaotic dance of deadly elegance. These swords were not mere illusions; they buzzed with tangible energy, crackling with destructive intent. Radiant and deadly, they filled the sky like stars, their edges humming with destructive force.
The attack, aptly named Moonrush Sword Kill, was a devastating spectacle, a storm of silver swords flooding the battlefield in a swirling maelstrom of death, a relentless and unyielding, designed to annihilate everything in its path. The swords descended upon Dao Wei with the force of a tidal wave, cutting through the air with a high-pitched whine, a sound that seemed to grow louder with each passing second.
The War God's presence amplified the onslaught. Every swing of his massive sword conjured more blades, flooding the battlefield in a blinding storm of moonlit steel. Wei Jun's gaze was cold, resolute. His intent was clear: to destroy, to dominate. The garden, once serene and beautiful, now lay in ruins, unable to withstand the sheer power of the Moonrush.
And yet, despite the chaos, Dao Wei did not move. He remained motionless, his eyes still closed, standing amidst the chaos as if none of it concerned him. His robes fluttered gently, moved not by the wind, but by the immense energy surging around him. He was like the calm in the eye of a hurricane. The sky above him darkened, a stark contrast to the moonlit storm on the other side. It was as if the heavens themselves were bowing to his presence, acknowledging his authority. The scene would have been serene, were it not for the impending destruction that was about to crash upon him.
Then, in the instant the sky darkened, the moon's light seemed to dim as if recognizing a presence far more powerful than its own. The air thickened with a palpable tension, a silence so deep it felt as though the very heavens were holding their breath.
Dao Wei's eyes slowly opened, revealing an intense gaze that could pierce through the heavens themselves. Behind him, his Elemental Wheel shimmered to life, rotating lazily in the air like a divine halo. But this time, there was a new addition—a brilliant arc of lightning, electric blue and violent, crackling with destructive energy. This was Dao Wei's newest power, the element of Lightning, now fully integrated into his arsenal.
The six arcs—Water, Metal, Space, Light, Darkness, and Lightning—spun like celestial bodies, their energies harmonizing with one another in perfect balance. The Lightning arc, in particular, pulsed with an eager intensity, as though it could barely contain the power within it.
Dao Wei raised his right hand slowly, and the world seemed to pause. His fingers stretched out, his skin tingling with the latent power of the gamma radiation coursing through his veins. He focused, letting the lightning from his Elemental Wheel to flow into his body, coiling around his arm, making him a living conduit for the divine force he now commanded. The power of the heavens surged within him, his arm glowing with an ethereal light.
As his index finger extended, the sky above split open, revealing a swirling vortex of thunderclouds. The heavens themselves seemed to tremble in fear as an enormous, ethereal finger began materializing from the vortex. It was God's finger, a manifestation of divine wrath and destruction, forged from lightning and primal energy. Its presence loomed over the battlefield, casting a shadow that blanketed the land below. Arcs of pure white and blue energy crackled along its surface, coiling and striking with unpredictable fury.
The technique he was about to unleash, 'One Finger Suppress the Heavens', echoed in his mind like a forgotten memory, each word carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. The heavens themselves had been torn apart to make way for what was coming.
Rumble!
Right then, descended an ethereal finger, colossal in size, casting a shadow that blotted out the moon, and for a moment, all sound ceased. The colossal finger crackled with energy, arcs of lightning dancing along its surface, each strike releasing a deafening boom that echoed across the mountains.
Wei Jun's Moonrush Sword surged forward, a tidal wave of steel and silver light, ready to obliterate everything in its path. But Dao Wei was unfazed. His eyes opened, revealing a calm, serene expression. He brought his finger down, and the ethereal finger above followed his motion, descending toward the oncoming storm of blades.
Wei Jun's swords, bathed in moonlight and destruction, collided with the divine finger. The moment their forces met was not loud, the world itself seemed to shake; it was quiet, almost eerie in its silence. The air seemed to freeze as the ethereal finger touched the torrent of swords. For a brief, breathless moment, nothing happened. There was no explosion, no grand sound—just a deafening silence as the power of the heavens suppressed the attack. Then, in an instant, lightning surged through the Moonrush attack, snaking through every blade, every arc of energy. The swords did not shatter—they disintegrated, reduced to fine particles of nothingness that vanished in the wind.
The War God's colossal sword, once indomitable, trembled before the pressure of the descending finger. His fierce expression faltered, replaced by one of disbelief as his power was swallowed whole by the divine suppression. Wei Jun gritted his teeth, his body trembling under the strain of the clash, but it was futile. The finger descended with unstoppable force, and the world seemed to buckle beneath its weight.