Achilles lay sprawled on the ground, completely unconscious. His breathing was still steady, but the imprint of a stick on his forehead spoke volumes about how the spar had ended.

Xu Tao rested the stick on his neck as he dusted his hands, before turning away.

"Alright then. I'm going to sleep."

However, he had barely taken three steps before a harsh voice rang out behind him.

"Hold it right there!!"

Ten bronze, rectangular tower shields slammed into the ground at once, followed by ten spears pointed straight at his back. The Myrmidons stood shoulder to shoulder, radiating killing intent.

"You only defeated His Lordship because he let his guard down for an instant!"

"We will not allow Lord Achilles' honor to be trampled!"

"That's right! You took advantage of our Lord and won through underhanded tricks!"

"You bastard, you have no pride as a warrior!"

Xu Tao stopped in his tracks.

Slowly… very slowly… he turned around.

The strange part was that he didn't look angry or annoyed. He just looked tired.

"So… all of you want to spar with me too?"

None of them answered verbally—but all ten slammed their spears against their shields in perfect unison.

CLANG!

The sound echoed across the open space like the roar of a war drum. Such a loud noise, of course, caught the attention of the others in the same area. Specifically, the other cultivators near the Small World Tree.

"…Sigh." Xu Tao rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, we'll be here all day if I fight you one at a time."

He closed one eye, moving his hand forward in a certain gesture. "I'm not so free that I can spar with you one by one, so come all at once."

The moment the words left his lips, the atmosphere exploded.

"You BASTARD!!"

"DON'T GET COCKY!!"

The Myrmidons got angry, their pride provoked.

There was no countdown and no signal to start. The next instant, all ten of them leapt into motion like a single living creature.

Five took the front—shields forming a wall, spears thrusting through the gaps. Two more circled to cut off escape routes. Three charged straight at Xu Tao's back.

They didn't hesitate. And considering their weapons weren't wooden, this wasn't a spar but a full-blown skirmish.

They employed a battlefield stratagem, a disciplined swarm meant to overwhelm and kill the enemy.

But no matter what they did, Xu Tao's expression didn't change—or rather, it looked as though he briefly faded into smoke.

Their spears only stabbed an afterimage. Their shields collided with nothing.

The entire frontline formation—meant to pin and crush the opponent—collapsed on itself like a poorly sewn net. When they looked around, Xu Tao was several steps away, no longer in the spot they attacked.

"M-Move! Re-form!!"

The Myrmidons didn't panic, but even so, the sudden failure caused several of them to grit their teeth. Immediately, they stepped back and reorganized, switching positions rapidly.

They moved like ants, swarming their enemy from all sides—but like trained ants.

The next charge came faster and sharper.

They switched from pin-and-crush into a rotating assault: two stepped in to attack while two stepped out to recover. Their timing was flawless, their rhythm terrifying.

Spears flashed like silver comets around Xu Tao's body.

Yet… not one of them found their mark.

"Mm. Good footwork," Xu Tao muttered.

He sidestepped a spear, leaned into another, and brushed past a third. Even when three attacked simultaneously from different sides, he simply lifted his heel and took a half step—

—the spears stabbed each other instead.

The Myrmidons didn't curse or shout, but gritted their teeth hard. With every miss, they refined their formation, optimizing it.

Their movements grew sharper, faster, and even more relentless. They used basic forms. Basic footwork. Basic angles. There were no flashy techniques at all… yet it was that very purity that made their assault suffocating.

They were an iron tide.

And Xu Tao stood in its center.

Completely untouched.

Time passed painfully slowly. Thirty seconds. A full minute. Then another.

They weren't just attacking anymore—they were hunting, seeking cracks in Xu Tao's defense and trying to drag him down with sheer volume. The moment a spearhead passed close to his cheek, another came from the opposite direction. Each attack layered atop the next, making the pressure faster and tighter—

"…Not bad," Xu Tao said softly, finally pulling a twig from the ground. "But I did warn you."

He raised the stick.

The next spear thrust toward his ribs.

Pak!

The Myrmidon froze mid-stride as the stick lightly tapped his shoulder—and instantly lost all strength in his arm, dropping to one knee. He had no idea what was done to him.

As if expecting it, Xu Tao turned halfway and stepped forward. A spear jabbed at his chest, missing by a hair's breadth.

Pak!

The stick moved again, and another warrior fell, his weapon flying from his hand.

Pak.

Pak.

Pak.

The sound of wet cloth hitting stone.

Within moments, it became less a "battle" and more like a brief, carefully choreographed dance.

After twenty seconds, eight Myrmidons lay sprawled across the ground, clutching arms or ribs, eyes wide with shock. They were warriors—trained to endure pain in battle. Yet with a casual poke from Xu Tao's stick, they were left immobile from sheer agony.

Two remained standing.

They clenched their jaws, squared their shoulders, and thrust forward—

—only to feel a stick tap their ankles.

They didn't even see Xu Tao move.

They simply fell.

Silence descended on the training grounds.

Only the pained groans of proud soldiers could be heard as Xu Tao exhaled quietly and tossed the twig aside.

"I'm guessing you know the difference now, right?" Xu Tao said, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. "The difference between a battle and sparring…"

His voice was flat, but his words were nothing short of a threat. He was saying that if this were truly a battle, then the ten of them would have died then and there.

He turned away again, seemingly more exhausted than triumphant. After taking three steps, he stopped.

"For the record," he added over his shoulder, "I held back because I respect your resolve. Try not to mistake restraint for mockery."

With those words, he left them to stare blankly at the fallen spears and shields scattered across the courtyard.

No one called him back.

Not even once.

Only after he disappeared into the castle did one of the fallen Myrmidons whisper, voice trembling—not with fear, but reverence:

"That wasn't a man… that's a fucking wall…"

Another clenched his fist weakly and muttered, "I haven't felt this defeated since the time I was learning the spear from my master…"

Every one of them understood.

Xu Tao's victory over Achilles had not been a fluke in any way.

And because of their arrogance, they ended up challenging this "haughty leader" only to come face-to-face with reality.

To Xu Tao, they were simply nuisances, far from being a threat.

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