High noon.
The sun stood proudly in the sky, casting its light over the land in full brilliance. Though the weather was cool, such things mattered little to martial artists whose bodies had long surpassed mortal limits.
At the heart of the Martial Hall, the grand Great Mountain Arena buzzed with life. A square platform, twenty meters across, stood at the center—a battlefield built for glory and blood.
Around it, rows of stone seats stretched out to a full fifty meters, filled with every member of the sect. It resembled the coliseums of ancient Rome—yet even more refined, and far more alive.
Towering above the arena was a raised platform carved into the mountain wall itself, lined with ornate seats for the sect's esteemed elders. At its center sat two legendary figures, unmatched in prestige within the entire town.
The first, Yu Lizhe, sat calmly with a serene gaze. Known as the Prime Sword Master, he was the hidden pillar of the Martial Hall—an elite among elites and a peak figure from the same generation as the Zhuo family ancestor.
> Name: Yu Lizhe
Age: 389
Realm: Profound Realm (Peak)
Position: Martial Hall's First Peak Master
Beside him sat the man himself—Zhuo Hao Yu, the East Wind Sword Master and the revered ancestor of the Zhuo family. Together, these two men represented the pinnacle of martial prowess within the town, gathered today for one purpose: the sect's tournament.
"Old friend," Yu Lizhe said, voice steady and warm, "it's been quite a while since your last visit. What brings you here now?"
Zhuo Hao Yu stroked his beard with a faint smile. "You already know why I've come. I'm here to redeem the lost face of my descendants."
"Oh?" Yu Lizhe chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "So your juniors got you involved in their mess. I remember when I was in my early twenties, I lost face to the Song family ancestor. My master was so furious he had me working like a dog for months."
"Now it's the younger generation losing face, and dragging us old men out of our caves," Yu Lizhe sighed with a nostalgic smile.
Zhuo Hao Yu let out a low laugh. "Let's see how it goes this time."
"Yes," Yu Lizhe nodded. "But before that, let's enjoy the disciple matches. I want to see if any promising seedlings are worthy of becoming inner disciples."
Meanwhile, in town...
A figure darted from rooftop to rooftop, fast as wind, his movements blurring through the air like a passing shadow. Li Hao moved at a staggering speed of 142 meters per hour, nearing the peak of his current limit. Clad in white from head to toe, his Mystic Robe flared behind him like flowing silk under the high-noon sun.
His destination? The Zhuo family estate.
His goal? To erase them.
Not just the core family—but every branch, every elder, every seed of that lineage. When that was done, he'd return to the arena and finish the job by eliminating the ancestor and the last remaining main descendants.
From a rooftop just a hundred meters away, Li Hao came to a brief halt. His gaze settled on the estate sprawled out before him.
It was a mansion in every sense—grand, proud, and far too comfortable for the kind of people who'd raised the likes of those he now hunted. The main building stood two floors tall, its design elegant yet bold, covering a full fifty-meter square. Surrounding it were smaller buildings, stretching across another one hundred and twenty meters, forming a fortress of wealth and heritage.
Li Hao tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"This house looks more like a mansion than a family home," he muttered with a cold smile. "Well... it'll be a bloody mess once I walk back out."
And with that, Li Hao vanished. The wind blew gently across the rooftop where he once stood, leaving behind only silence.
In the arena, the clashing of swords echoed fiercely as two of the strongest outer disciples faced off in a heated duel. Their strikes were sharp, precise, and relentless—neither giving way as their blades danced under the noon sun.
The match dragged on longer than expected. It was clear: these two were evenly matched.
From the elder's platform, Yu Lizhe watched with interest. "Zhuo Hao Yu, what do you think of these two?" he asked, arms crossed. "They've made it this far—do you believe they're worthy of becoming inner disciples?"
Zhuo Hao Yu nodded slowly but with reservation. "They're talented, no doubt. But they're still lacking. Give them a few more years... The gap between them and true inner disciples will become clearer."
As the duel ended and the remaining matches concluded, the crowd began to rise. Conversations buzzed as disciples prepared to leave—until one figure stepped forward and froze everything.
Zhuo Tian.
He leaped onto the platform, his voice booming across the arena.
"I, Zhuo Tian, challenge Li An to a life-and-death duel, to reclaim the honor I lost in our last fight!"
A wave of shock swept through the crowd. All eyes turned toward him.
Li An, who had been preparing to leave, froze in surprise. Her thoughts raced—this is exactly what Li Hao had warned her about one year ago. He had pushed her so hard in training, and now she understood why.
She stepped forward calmly. "Wait a moment. My little brother still needs to return with my sword."
Confused murmurs spread through the audience.
She's a swordswoman without her sword?
What kind of swordsman does that?
But Zhuo Tian was already prepared. With a proud smile, he drew a gleaming sword and tossed it toward her.
"Don't worry. I brought a blade prepared just for you."
This was his moment. Before his ancestor, before the Martial Hall—he would redeem himself. He would win.
Meanwhile, in the Zhuo estate, Li Hao stepped out into the daylight. Blood stained his robes, his hands, even his face. Behind him, the once-proud mansion was in ruins. The walls bore the scars of his blade, soaked with blood and marked by death.
Dozens had tried to stop him. Profound Realm experts, core guards, Zhuo family elites. It didn't matter.
All of them fell.
The scent of blood clung to the air like a curse. And Li Hao—expression calm—vanished into the wind, speeding toward the Martial Hall with unrelenting purpose.
Back in the arena, Zhuo Tian and Li An stood face to face, swords in hand. The entire sect had paused to witness what had now become the most anticipated fight of the day.
Zhuo Tian grinned. "It's been a year since we last fought. This time, I'll win—and when I do, you won't be walking away."
He had broken through to the Transcendent Realm. No longer on the same level. The gap between a Master Realm cultivator and a Transcendent was tenfold—an uncrossable chasm.
At least, that's what everyone thought.
Li An raised her gaze. "We'll see if you can still say that once the fight begins."
Zhuo Tian dashed forward, closing the distance in an instant. His sword slashed through the air, aiming straight for her head.
But Li An remained composed. With perfect timing, she drew her sword and deflected the attack with a spiraling motion, twisting the force aside and retaliating instantly.
Zhuo Tian stumbled back a step, stunned.
Silence fell.
She was also in the Transcendent Realm.
Gasps echoed through the crowd. A fifteen-year-old transcendent? This fight was no longer one-sided—it was a battle between peerless geniuses.
But Li An was holding back. She remembered her brother's words clearly:
Don't go all out unless I'm there.
Zhuo Tian grew furious. He launched forward again with explosive power, unleashing a flurry of strikes.
In just ten seconds, nineteen sharp and lethal exchanges erupted across the platform.
Finally, Zhuo Tian's face flushed red. "How... How are you this strong at your age?!"
Li An narrowed her eyes but smiled inwardly.
You think I'm strong? Wait until you meet my little brother... He'll show you what true strength is.
Zhuo Tian jumped back, breathing heavily. He smirked, voice proud.
"I've seen your technique. It's beyond the basics. What you're using... is the true version of my ancestor's technique—Heavenly Violent Storm Sword Art."
He shouted, "First Form: Wind Triple Slash!" and launched three blinding arcs of sword energy toward her.
But Li An met them head-on. "Sword of Light!" she cried, slicing cleanly through the wind, dispersing it with a single radiant slash.
Zhuo Tian clenched his teeth. Fine... if that's how it is.
"Heavenly Violent Storm Sword Art—Whirlwind of Destruction!"
He gathered power into his blade, wind howling as it formed a spinning tempest of raw destruction.
"Li An! Let's see if you can stop this!"
She prepared to counter—when a familiar voice rang out.
"I'm back. You can go all out. Don't worry about the Zhuo family ancestor."
Li Hao.
He had arrived.
Li An smiled, her stance shifting. "Then I won't hold back."
She took a single step forward, her voice calm and resolute.
"Heavenly Blossom Sword Art: Heavenly Blooming Thrust!"
Light flared—like a falling star burning through the sky. Her sword pierced through Zhuo Tian's windstorm and struck him directly, slicing through his midsection and shattering both his legs in a single, glorious blow.
A hush fell across the arena.
Blood sprayed across the stage. Zhuo Tian collapsed, his body broken—his pride shattered.
From the elder's platform, Zhuo Hao Yu stood in shock. Yu Lizhe's eyes narrowed, cautious and calculating.
But Zhuo Hao Yu's face twisted in rage.
"You... YOU SLUT! You dare kill a descendant of the Zhuo family?!"
He unsheathed his blade—the fabled Storm Sword—and in a flash, leapt from the platform.
Zhuo Hao Yu jumped high into the air, eyes burning with fury as he shouted,
"I'll kill your entire family and turn you into a slave for this insult! Heavenly Violent Storm Sword Art—Sixth Form, Seven Wind Crescent Slashes!"
A surge of sword light exploded around him as the powerful technique descended. His sword intent—of proficient grade at the early Profound Realm—filled the arena with a whirling storm of deadly arcs.
Li An looked up at the approaching attack, her heart steady even as death loomed. Just then, a calm voice whispered beside her ear:
"Watch closely, sister. I'll show you the true power of the Heavenly Blossom Sword Art."
From the arena's edge, a pink flash soared like a meteor rising from the earth.
"Heavenly Blossom Sword Art, Fourth Form—Heaven's Blooming Sky Blossom!"
The elegant slash cleaved through the air, splitting Zhuo Hao Yu's sword intent in half like it was paper.
Gasps echoed through the hall as everyone turned to see the source. Li An looked over her shoulder and saw him—Li Hao, standing with his sword pointed to the heavens, calm and composed.
Zhuo Hao Yu landed, frowning deeply as he addressed the young man.
"Who are you to interfere in matters that don't concern you?!"
Li Hao replied coldly,
"Is it not obvious? The one you're trying to kill is my sister. Do you expect me to sit and watch while you defile her?"
He raised his sword, the Heavenly Ascension Sword, gleaming with refined sword intent.
"If you wish to kill her, you'll have to kill me first."
Zhuo Hao Yu narrowed his eyes, then smirked.
"So be it."
Turning to another elder, he called,
"Old friend, you owe me a life-saving favor. Let's repay it now by ending this brat."
Yu Liz He stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"Very well. Once this is over, our debt will be settled."
Zhuo Hao Yu chuckled darkly.
"Two against one. Do you still want to fight for this girl, boy?"
Li Hao smiled faintly.
"Prime Sword Master and East Wind Sword Master—two of the strongest in this town. Too bad you both meet your end today."
A cold silence swept over the hall before Zhuo Hao Yu laughed,
"Then let's see who dies first!"
In an instant, all three disappeared in a blur of motion. Sword intent clashed, waves of pressure erupting across the hall as spectators fled for their lives.