Lin Huang stood at the center of the arena, unmoving.

Blood pooled beneath Elder Iron's fallen corpse, the metallic stench spreading through the air, thick enough to taste. Yet Lin Huang's breathing was calm, steady—so composed that it was as if the life he had just taken weighed no more than dust.

Killing a Deity Transformation Elder…

To him, it was nothing.

His silver blade hovered silently at his side, its edge still humming faintly, as though dissatisfied—hungry for more.

In a low, even voice, Lin Huang spoke again.

"The One Thousand Sword Sect is only so-so."

His words were soft, almost casual—but the moment they left his mouth, they rippled outward like a shockwave.

"Its reputation as the number one holy land of sword cultivation is undeserved. No wonder a sect that relies on stolen foundations and borrowed support can never rise above mediocrity."

Every syllable cut deeper than steel.

Then Lin Huang lifted his gaze, eyes narrowing as if piercing layers of stone, formations, and distance itself.

"Ying Yue," he said quietly.

"I know you can see me."

A chill ran through the crowd.

"Come out and face me. Let me see how much you've progressed after taking my sword bone."

His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt.

"This is your last warning," Lin Huang continued, voice still calm, still controlled.

"If you don't come out… I will raze this entire sect to the ground."

Silence followed—heavy, crushing silence.

Then the arena erupted.

"What a madman!"

"He's actually challenging the entire sect?!"

"Does he think killing an Outer Sect Elder makes him invincible?"

"And did you hear that? Sword bone?! He's accusing the Thousand Sword Sect's number one disciple—Ying Yue herself!"

Faces flushed red with excitement, fear, disbelief. By now, the commotion had spread like wildfire. Spiritual senses swept across Ancient Sword City as major powers quietly turned their attention toward the arena.

If the One Thousand Sword Sect failed to respond now, their prestige would shatter.

The air suddenly thickened.

One after another, figures descended into the arena—Inner Disciples, each radiating fierce sword intent. Their auras overlapped, pressing down like layers of invisible mountains. Some of them were clearly stronger than Elder Iron ever was.

At their forefront stood a towering man.

A cross-shaped scar carved deep into his face twisted as his expression hardened. His presence alone distorted the air, his aura heavy and domineering, like a blade poised above the neck of the world.

Gu Tian.

Elder of the Inner Disciples.

A cultivator of the Unity Realm.

The crowd gasped.

"So it's Gu Tian…"

"The prodigy from a hundred years ago."

"They say he truly stepped into Unity—primordial spirit and spiritual space fused as one…"

Even Wang Chen, hidden among the onlookers, fell silent.

If the rumors were true, this was no longer a simple battle.

Compared to Deity Transformation cultivators, Unity Realm experts stood on an entirely different plane. This was the realm where Dao and self merged—a league of monsters.

Gu Tian's gaze swept across the arena before locking onto Lin Huang.

His voice was cold, devoid of emotion.

"Junior," he said slowly,

"although you have blatantly insulted my noble sect, the One Thousand Sword Sect is not without mercy."

A cruel smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Cut off both of your hands—right now."

"And we may be magnanimous enough to forgive you."

The pressure surged.

Sword intent screamed.

The air itself seemed to beg Lin Huang to kneel.

But Lin Huang merely stood there, silver blade humming softly—

as if the storm before him was nothing more than a passing breeze.

"Hisss…"

A wave of sharp inhales rippled through the crowd.

"As expected of a holy land. If this were any other sect, that young man would already be dead."

"The Thousand Sword Sect truly lives up to its name. Even now, they still offer mercy…"

Whispers overlapped, filled with awe, fear, and thinly veiled admiration.

Lin Huang didn't react.

It was as if the voices around him didn't exist at all.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes settling on Gu Tian with genuine confusion, as though studying a strange artifact rather than a terrifying Unity Realm powerhouse.

"…Are you Ying Yue?" Lin Huang asked calmly.

The question landed like a slap.

Gu Tian's brows twitched.

Lin Huang continued, his tone puzzled, almost innocent.

"Because you don't look like a woman to me."

A beat of silence.

"If you're not her," Lin Huang added softly, "then shut your mouth. Otherwise, don't blame me for being ruthless."

The atmosphere froze.

Gu Tian, who had remained stone-faced until now, finally darkened. The faint trace of restraint he had shown evaporated completely, replaced by naked killing intent.

He had given this junior a way out.

A path to live.

And this arrogant ant had spat on it.

"Fine," Gu Tian said coldly, his voice carrying the weight of judgment.

"If you're so desperate to die—then die."

The moment the last word fell—

Boom!

The entire arena shuddered.

A deep, thunderous vibration rolled through the ground as cracks spiderwebbed across the white stone tiles. Dust leapt into the air, the pristine arena instantly scarred.

From within the fractured stone, metallic shrieks rang out.

Clang—clang—clang!

Tiny sword tips pierced through the ground.

Then more.

Ten.

A hundred.

Five hundred.

In the blink of an eye, one thousand swords erupted from the arena floor, rising into the air like a storm of steel. Each blade shimmered with razor-sharp sword intent, humming violently as if eager to taste blood.

The swords spiraled upward, forming a colossal rotating formation around Gu Tian. Their edges caught the light, reflecting cold brilliance that stabbed into the eyes of every onlooker.

The pressure skyrocketed.

Breathing became difficult.

Some weaker cultivators staggered backward, faces pale, sweat pouring down their temples as the sheer sword intent scraped against their souls.

The Inner Disciples accompanying Gu Tian couldn't hide their awe.

"As expected of Senior Brother Gu Tian!"

"Decades of secluded cultivation… he's finally mastered it!"

"The One Thousand Sword Formation—our holy sect's supreme technique!"

"Once unleashed, the swords never stop. They attack endlessly until the enemy is completely annihilated!"

Their voices trembled with reverence.

Gu Tian's lips curled upward slightly.

Praise flowed into him like nourishment. The thousand swords circling his body sang in response, their hum growing sharper, more violent.

At the edge of the crowd, Wang Chen narrowed his eyes.

Thousands of swords… rotating, autonomous, attacking without pause…

A strange sense of familiarity crept into his mind.

This formation…

I've seen something like this before.

A technique he had learned long ago.

On the second floor of the Tower.

Its name hovered on the tip of his thoughts, frustratingly out of reach.

Wang Chen frowned.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember it.

But one thing was certain—

The technique Gu Tian was using…

was incomplete.

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