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.

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!

precision, conjuring an impenetrable shield before

no time. He bit his finger, using his own blood to inscribe a cryptic

other seven swordsmen

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

to tremble violently. Then, in perfect synchronization, the eight swordsmen hurled their swords into

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

pressure distorting the space around it. The eight swordsmen moved in unison, positioning themselves strategically as fresh droplets of blood

feet, the ground trembled violently before a sword array gradually took shape, locking within

forth, converging with the colossal greatsword as they all struck

the Impalement Sword

of the Eight Swordsmen of Demonia Mountain, once activated, even an Immortal Realm

knew better than to underestimate

had never encountered before. His sword intent wasn’t just sharp-it was profound, carrying an artistry that transcended

moment they realized, Ararat wasn’t a cultivator from the Ethereal Realm. No, was far beyond that. He was likely

dared not show the slightest bit of carelessness. Without hesitation, they activated the

energies swirling within the formation, a faint