Wang Chen didn't know what was going through the heads of the spectators.

Even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. His mind was running on overdrive, ripping through memories like a starving beast through fresh meat, and a wide, borderline-psychotic grin tried to spread across his face.

Sword Domain: Infinite Sword Rain!

Eternal Heart of the Sword!!

The memories flooded him—one hundred and ten years as the Sword Saint in Green Sky World. Years of slaughter. Years of enlightenment. Years of sword intent forged from solitude, blood, and broken heavens themselves.

They played in his head like a lucid dream.

For a heartbeat, he genuinely had to restrain himself from throwing away the entire "mysterious aloof expert" persona and cackling into the sky like some freshly escaped lunatic.

Then he looked at the demon.

And pity flickered in his eyes.

Pity.

A Deity-Transformation-wannabe demon, currently radiating enough power to flatten mountains, was being pitied by a man who technically wasn't even at Golden Core.

And the demon felt it.

His entire body stiffened. His muscles bulged. His aura twisted into something feral and unstable.

"You… You dare look at me like that? I don't care whether you hid your strength or crawled out of some wormhole—no one looks at me like that and walks away!"

Wang Chen didn't respond.

There was no need.

A demon who didn't matter didn't deserve acknowledgment.

A ripple spread outward from Wang Chen—silent, clean, absolute.

Every cultivator attuned to the Sword Dao felt their hearts jolt violently in their chests as if a celestial blade had slid across their souls.

Rong Lua gasped, losing control of his breath for a heartbeat.

Lin Huang's spirit trembled, sword intent involuntarily rising like a devout disciple responding to a holy sermon.

Li Mei's face lost all color; something ancient in her blood recoiled.

And Zhao Yunfei—blind, cursed, unknowable Zhao Yunfei—saw her first glimmer of "light."

A sword-shaped spark.

Something her world had never allowed her to witness.

Wang Chen ignored all of them.

He simply spoke.

"Rise."

One word.

One command.

Yet the world behaved as if heaven itself had spoken.

The entire lake—hundreds of meters across—began to roil violently, water pillars spiraling upward as if dragged by invisible blades. Steam burst from its surface. Space trembled. The air warped.

The demon, still towering at twenty feet, froze.

Its fury vanished.

Its arrogance vanished.

Its breath hitched.

As if sensing a nightmare clawing its way out of the abyss, the demon slowly turned its head toward the lake.

Its three eyes widened in raw, primal horror.

"…Impossible…"

Its voice shook.

Its body trembled.

Because deep in the lake—something ancient, sacred, and furious had awakened.

And it wasn't looking at the demon.

It was looking at Wang Chen.

...

"How is this possible…?"

The Wind and Thunder City Lord staggered backward mid-air, pupils trembling violently.

Rong Lua's throat bobbed. "Eternal Sword Heart…" he whispered, trying—and failing—to steady his pounding heart.

Song Po?

The man wasn't even capable of coherent thought anymore. His world had already cracked, and Wang Chen kept swinging a hammer at the pieces.

The command had been simple.

One word: Rise.

Yet the entire lake obeyed like the universe itself had been waiting for that command.

Hundreds of meters—no, kilometers—of water rose from the earth, spiraling into the sky. The lakebed lay exposed like a gutted beast. Spirit fish flopped helplessly across the mud. Fire lotuses spun in panic, petals trembling as they neared the edge of a free fall…

Until a gentle force wrapped around them, holding them as delicately as a mother gripping her newborn.

The demon didn't even blink.

He couldn't.

Terror had locked every muscle in his colossal body.

His three eyes watched something he knew shouldn't exist. Something even a demon's instincts told him to run from.

The lake twisted.

Shape bent.

The world groaned.

And then—

Wring—!!!

A colossal water-sword formed above the continent, easily a hundred times larger than the demon itself. The pressure alone split space like cracking glass.

On the Azure Dragon Continent, mortals and cultivators alike saw a sword carve the horizon open.

Not a metaphor.

A literal horizon-sized, continent-visible sword.

Far away, high above the marching army of abyssal demons, Zi Han hovered quietly. Tens of thousands of demons trudged below, poised to destroy the ten imperial cities in one unified assault.

She, however, stood aloof, calm, her simple gown and snow-white skin creating a surreal contrast to the battlefield of monstrosities beneath her.

She ignored their chaos—abyssal demons were her enemies too. Their purpose was to devour all existence. The world, humans, demons—it made no difference to them.

She'd long since discarded any attachment to such creatures.

But then—

Her eyes snapped upward.

A ripple of heaven-breaking sword intent soared across the sky, slicing clouds like paper. A sword stretching hundreds of meters burned itself into her vision.

Zi Han frowned.

Softly.

Eyes narrowing with the faintest flicker of surprise.

She focused—and the moment she recognized the aura, her expression changed.

The Sword Dao didn't shock her.

The origin did.

"Sacred technique of the Sword Saint Heaven…" she murmured.

Not an imitation.

Not a plagiarized mortal-realm trick.

A pure, flawless sacred technique straight from the Upper Realm.

Her gaze fell upon Wang Chen below.

A mortal-realm Foundation Building cultivator… radiating the technique of a legendary Sword Saint?

Her lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile.

Not seductive.

Not playful.

But intrigued.

What exactly are you, Wang Chen… and just how deep does your background run?

...

Wang Chen wasn't aware that his wanton display of power had already placed him squarely under Zi Han's suspicion.

To him, none of that mattered.

Right now, with the Eternal Sword Will roaring through his veins, he felt untouchable—immortal, undying, a sovereign who could stand above the heavens themselves.

For a brief, dangerous moment, he even entertained the thought of playing with the demon, like a bored monarch teasing a struggling insect.

But thankfully, some shred of caution still clung to his mind.

He exhaled softly, a low chuckle slipping through his lips.

"No point wasting time."

The power of the Sword Saint avatar surged wildly inside him—magnificent, overwhelming, but tragically short-lived. He could feel the timer slowly ticking down. Once it vanished, so would this impossible dominance.

He had to finish this quickly.

Before the power faded.

Before someone far more terrifying than the demon took notice.

Before the world started asking questions he couldn't answer.

Wang Chen's smile sharpened. The colossal water sword above him hummed in response, eager to descend.

"Let's end this."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.