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.

eight 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

Boom!

with precision, conjuring an impenetrable shield before

time. He bit his finger, using his own blood

other

by one, they bit their fingers, tracing intricate markings onto their swords with their

the last stroke was completed, the Iongswords in their hands began to tremble violently. Then, in

formed greatsword hung suspended in mid-air, radiating an oppressive force so intense that the very void seemed to tremble beneath

greatsword surged toward Ararat like a descending judgment, its immense pressure distorting the space around it. The eight swordsmen moved in unison, positioning themselves strategically as

Ararat’s feet, the ground trembled violently before a sword array gradually took

with the colossal greatsword as they

was the Impalement Sword

Mountain, once activated, even an Immortal Realm Seventh Level cultivator could be

swordsmen knew better

every movement carried a depth they had never encountered before. His sword intent wasn’t just sharp-it was profound, carrying an artistry

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

of carelessness. Without hesitation, they activated the

a