A Man Like None Other

“You lot dare to touch Mr. Chance?” Ararat and Kishor launched themselves into action.

In an instant, the sky lit up with dazzling streaks of sword light. The eight swordsmen found themselves instantly halted, their every move blocked by the relentless barrage of attacks from Ararat and Kishor.

The two guardians of the Celestial Stairway were locked in fierce combat with the swordsmen.

Stefan stood silently, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth as watched the chaos unfold.

“This is becoming more and more interesting…” murmured to himself.

Rostam, still reeling from the sheer power of Ararat’s swordsmanship, couldn’t hide his astonishment.

“Who are you? Why do you have such impressive sword skills?” asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Ararat responded with a mocking tone. “If we’re being honest, I could well be your grandfather, given how pitiful your swordsmanship is. It’s a disgrace to the name of a swordsman.”

With that, transformed into a streak of sword light, his blade descending with terrifying speed.

Rostam, sensing the overwhelming intensity of Ararat’s sword intent, instinctively stepped back, knowing could not face the attack head-on.

“Set up the formation!” shouted.

swordsmen swiftly swung their blades, severing the cloth bags holding their sword cases. The cases shot into the sky, and in an instant, beams of light erupted from within them, each beam as sharp and precise as a sword. These rays of

Boom!

with precision, conjuring an impenetrable shield before him, deflecting the relentless onslaught

using his own blood to inscribe a cryptic

Rostam’s actions, the other

their fingers, tracing intricate markings onto

stroke was completed, the Iongswords in their hands began to tremble violently. Then, in perfect synchronization, the eight swordsmen hurled their swords into the air. The blades converged,

suspended in mid-air, radiating an oppressive force so intense that the very

like a descending judgment, its immense pressure distorting the space around it. The eight swordsmen moved in unison, positioning themselves strategically as fresh droplets of blood splattered onto the

a sword array gradually took shape, locking within

of sword energy surged forth, converging with the colossal greatsword as they all

was the

the Eight Swordsmen of Demonia Mountain, once activated, even

better than to

movement carried a depth they had never encountered before. His

they realized, Ararat wasn’t a cultivator from the Ethereal Realm. No, was far beyond that. He was likely a being from the celestial realm, trapped here

threat posed, they dared not show the slightest bit of carelessness. Without hesitation, they activated the Impalement Sword

within the formation, a faint trace of disdain curling at his lips. Slowly,