Rumble!
The moment Dao Wei sat on the Emperor's Throne, the golden swords knelt before him as if recognizing their sovereign. But before he could even savor the moment, the world around him—no, reality itself—shattered.
Not broke.
Shattered.
The grand hall, the towering swords, the throne beneath him—all fragmented like delicate glass, dissolving into a cascade of shimmering sword light. A deafening silence followed, an emptiness so vast that even his heartbeat seemed insignificant against it.
Then, a rift opened beneath him.
"What the…" Dao Wei stumbled and fell into the abyss as the ground opened its jaws like a hungry monster.
Air rushed past him, but there was no solid ground below—only an endless expanse of floating continents. No, not land continents. But Swords.
Countless divine swords of all shapes and sizes formed an intricate web of landmasses, their edges gleaming with an aura of power. Some were embedded like mountains, others lay flat like vast plains, and rivers of pure sword energy, liquid gold in motion, wove through the landscapes, radiating sharp, unseen currents of force. The sky above wasn't sky at all—it was an abyssal void where swords floated in celestial formations, shifting in patterns beyond mortal comprehension.
This wasn't a battlefield.
It wasn't the Ghost Peak.
It was an entire world made of swords.
The Sword World Domain. These are ethereal realms forged from the lingering essence of ancient divine beings—those who have transcended mortality, surpassed even the bounds of immortality, and ascended into an enigmatic state of existence known as the Ethereal Sovereignty. Unlike mere sword intents or domains shaped by comprehension, these are the final echoes of gods who walked the path of the blade, their very existence infused into the fabric of reality. Creating one didn't just require mastery over the sword, an understanding of its philosophy, history, and existence, but also a deep understanding of the Laws of Creation—The sword is not a weapon in these domains; but a principle of reality.
Unlike the previous levels, no opponents were standing in his way. No guardians waiting to challenge him.
At least, none that could be seen.
Creek!
A sound split through the silence—a deafening screech, like the cry of a thousand unsheathed blades.
"Woah!" Dao Wei reacted instinctively.
Whoosh!
Suddenly hundreds of swords erupted from nothingness.
Not from an enemy, nor from a formation. But from the world itself.
Phantom blades materialized—some rising from the rivers of sword energy, others descending from the abyss above, some slicing through the air without warning. Each blade carried a distinct intent, a different sword law.
Some burned with Heavenly Flames, radiating divine punishment.
Some pulsed with Spatial Severance, cutting through dimensions with casual ease.
Some dripped with Endless Death, erasing all they touched without a trace.
Each sword was a Law-given form.
And they were all attacking him.
Dao Wei's mind spun. He had battled cultivators, demonic beasts, and unholy formations—but this?
"How the hell do you even fight the world?" he muttered as the Dragon Saber flashed into his grip, his instinct taking over.
Clang! Clang!
The first blade came, a flaming sword that descended like divine judgment. He parried, but the impact burned through his skin, leaving scorched flesh beneath his sleeve.
A second later, a spatial sword blinked into existence behind him.
Too fast.
It slashed across his ribs, a searing agony flaring through his side as blood sprayed into the golden currents below.
"Fuck!"
The third sword came—a shadow blade wreathed in death's embrace. Dao Wei barely twisted his body in time to dodge, but another dozen swords materialized in its wake, striking from every angle.
His blade dancing in an ethereal arc, cutting down dozens, then hundreds, but they never stopped.
Clang!
Sword light clashed with phantom steel as he slashed, parried, and countered. Dozens fell, then hundreds. He weaved between the deadly storm, his movements turning into a symphony of survival.
Rumble!
But they never stopped.
The more he fought, the more swords appeared.
Slash!
"Pant! Pant!" He was being overwhelmed, drowned in an endless tide of blades. His breath was ragged, wounds piling upon wounds.
Then suddenly a thought struck him.
This wasn't a test of combat. No!
It was something else. Something beyond what anyone could have imagined. 'Who? Who would even set up such a test, and who was it meant for?'
Rumble!
But before the thought could even solidify in his mind, the entire sky twisted. A maelstrom of divine swords spiraled above, a massive tempest of absolute destruction—The Sword World was rejecting him.
Without warning, the destruction descended.
Boom!
And in an instant, Dao Wei was consumed whole. Not a sound left, nor a struggle—it was divine judgment, absolute and overbearing.
Meanwhile…
The Sword God Sect was barely holding on.
What was once a proud fortress of swordsmanship had become a land of ruin. Flames swallowed the courtyards, once filled with the echoes of training and laughter. The sacred banners, symbols of their lineage, lay in tattered shreds, smoldering in the carnage.
Bodies littered the ground—disciples, elders, invaders alike. Blood soaked the once-pristine stones, a silent testament to the brutality of the battle.
This wasn't a battle, it was a total massacre!
Above it all, five figures lay motionless in pools of their own blood—the five newly coroneted Sword Kings, defeated, their once-dazzling sword auras dimmed to nothing.
And the battle raged on.
Bang!
Elder Mo Lin's sword clashed with Yan Mo's greatsword, their strikes sending shockwaves through the courtyard, shattering stones with each collision.
Swoosh!
In the meantime, Si Yue moved like a phantom, her form barely visible as she flickered through the battlefield, weaving in and out of the shadows. The screams of the dying, the clash of steel, and the roar of battle created a chaotic symphony around her, but through it all, she remained eerily silent—death incarnate.
Her gaze locked onto a wounded Yue Ling who was struggling to raise her sword trembling in her grip. A cruel smile played on Si Yue's lips as she closed the distance in a breath, her claws poised for the kill. Just as her talons whistled through the air, a gleaming sword intercepted her strike with a sharp clang, halting her assault mid-motion.
Clang!
Sparks erupted as steel met talon, the impact ringing through the battlefield like a bell of defiance. Feng Xiaoyue stood firm, her expression calm but eyes burning with the weight of duty. Her blade, glistening with an icy blue sheen, pulsed with the essence of the boundless sea—serene, yet deadly beyond measure.
"I won't let you take another step," Feng Xiaoyue declared, her voice calm, yet unwavering despite the carnage surrounding them.
Si Yue's smirk widened, a glint of amusement flashing in her crimson eyes. "Oh? How noble," she purred. "Let's see what you've got."
Without hesitation, she twisted her body, launching a flurry of razor-sharp strikes that rained down like a storm. Each swipe of her claws split the air with a sinister whistle, her speed blinding, her form a blur of shadow and death.
Clang! Clang!
Feng Xiaoyue countered with equal ferocity, her blade dancing in fluid arcs, parrying each attack with surgical precision. Her movements mimicked the undulating waves of the ocean—soft yet unyielding, swift yet controlled. Every step back was followed by a step forward, every deflection met with a retaliatory thrust.
Si Yue feigned a high slash, only to vanish into the darkness behind her opponent. "Too slow," she whispered from the void before reappearing with a devastating claw aimed at Xiaoyue's exposed flank.
Ripple!
But Feng Xiaoyue was already moving.
A ripple of water erupted around her as she spun, her blade cutting a perfect crescent in the air. A shimmering tidal force surged forward, colliding with Si Yue's attack, forcing her back for the first time.
"Not bad," Si Yue mused, licking a stray droplet of blood from her finger where the wave had cut through. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Boom!
The battlefield trembled as both ladies released their full power—one a mistress of the abyssal dark, the other a sword maiden of the endless sea. Their battle became a deadly dance of steel and shadow, one fueled by relentless malice and the other by unwavering resolve.
Elsewhere, the battlefield turned into a graveyard as Mu Xin's mist slithered like a living entity, curling around the wounded like a sinister embrace. The first to fall was an outer disciple who barely had time to scream before his flesh blackened, his body convulsing as his very soul was siphoned away. The mist grew denser, feeding on the agony, moving hungrily toward the next victim.
Whoosh!
A desperate group of disciples attempted to erect a barrier of sword Qi, their blades forming a luminous wall against the encroaching doom. But the mist was insidious—it seeped through cracks, coiled around throats, and devoured breath.
"Nooo!"
One by one, their bodies crumpled, their eyes empty, their swords clattering uselessly to the ground. The battlefield moaned under the weight of the fallen.