“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.

in an instant, beams of light erupted from

Boom!

conjuring an impenetrable shield before

time. He bit his finger, using his own blood

the other seven swordsmen

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

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,

force so intense that the very void seemed to

toward Ararat like a descending judgment, its immense pressure distorting the space around it. The eight swordsmen

violently before a sword array gradually took shape, locking within

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

the

of Demonia Mountain, once activated, even an Immortal Realm Seventh Level cultivator could be effortlessly slain

eight swordsmen knew better

his power wasn‘t overwhelmingly destructive, his every movement carried a depth they had never encountered before. His sword intent wasn’t

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

slightest bit of carelessness. Without hesitation, they activated

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

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