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.

sky, and in an instant, beams of light erupted from within them, each beam as sharp and precise as a sword. These

Boom!

conjuring an impenetrable shield before him, deflecting the relentless

bit his finger, using his own blood to inscribe a cryptic

actions, the other

intricate markings

hands began to tremble violently. Then, in perfect synchronization, the eight swordsmen

newly formed greatsword hung suspended in mid-air, radiating an oppressive force

judgment, its immense pressure distorting the space around it. The eight

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

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

the

of Demonia Mountain, once activated, even an Immortal Realm Seventh Level cultivator

better than

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

Realm. No, was far beyond that. He was likely a being from the celestial realm, trapped here

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

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