She blushed. "I'm just saying… Young Elder has never backed up. If anyone could do something impossible, wouldn't it be him?"
For a moment, silence filled the garden, before the three girls turned their gazes towards the Ghost Peak.
Yet, while the Sect debated, something even more profound was happening. The God-sword, long-buried within the Ancestral Grounds, stirred.
Roar!
The sound was barely audible, but the two Supreme Elders reacted almost at the same time. A faint smile appeared on Jiang Feng's face.
However, within the Ghost Peak, the moment the void world shattered, Dao Wei felt his weight return, solid ground beneath his feet, and a sense of relief. His breath was even more steady, his Qi as deep as the ocean, but his heart pounded with tension.
He'd just overcome a seemingly impossible level, but when Dao Wei opened his eyes, he was in a completely different space than the fourth level—he'd made it to the fifth. The air was even more different, devilishly oppressive while carrying divine sovereignty and heaviness.
Dao Wei took a deep breath before taking in the scene before him. The grand hall he was in seemed to stretch endlessly into oblivion. The walls were not walls at all but massive swords lined the hall perfectly—they emitted an oppressive yet noble aura, towering into the sky like holy pillars.
The sword walls shimmered with divine elegance, reflecting Dao Wei's figure into countless fragments. These fragments were like exact replicas of him, each a noble swordsman—but with a twist, they were all vastly different, as if showing the paths he was yet to follow. They each performed techniques that were far beyond his current understanding and cultivation.
"This…" Dao Wei murmured before shifting his gaze to the floor below.
It was made of pure obsidian sword-like tiles with only two names engraved on it. Only two names in an eternity of challengers—strange.
"Wait!" Dao Wei thought, "Didn't they say no one had made it past the fourth floor? Then why are these two names here and who are they?" he wondered out loud.
But his thoughts were distracted when his eyes landed on a massive divine-like throne at the far end of the hall—it defied mortal sense, shattering all physical understanding. Not something that could be made of mortals' hands but almost as if a divine decree carved it. The entire throne was made of innumerable swords fused perfectly together like a seat. They exuded such an oppressive aura that it made Dao Wei's soul stir a bit as if he was standing right in the presence of the god of swords. The space around the throne was distorted and time seemed to flow differently, unable to flow normally under the sheer force of the throne's presence.
Dao Wei sighed, "Here we go."
But the moment he took a step forward, the scene changed—a single step appeared right before him. Simple in appearance, seemingly out of place. But as soon as he set his foot on the step…
Boom!
A crushing weight befell his entire body—it wasn't as the previous level, this was an imperial gravity force crushing down on every fiber of his being. It forced him to kneel, his bones cracking as he groaned from the sheer force, yet he refused to kneel. Summoning his every muscle power, he pressed forth onto the second step.
Bang!
Suddenly, razor-sharp gales howled, attacking with unseen blades. Yet Dao Wei didn't flinch—he was focused on maintaining his stand when his sword intent acted on its own.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Somehow, he managed to deflect the invisible blades without losing his focus or even unsheathing his sword.
Rumble!
The entire stairs suddenly began to shake as soon as he stepped onto the third step, shifting like an illusion breaking his focus and forcing him to rebalance himself while still standing against the crushing force—a single take would send him right into the deep abyss below, probably lost forever.
Dao Wei gritted his teeth, shaking off every sort of doubt in his mind.
Each step didn't just require perfect balance or high cultivation—but the higher he climbed, the more difficult and greater the gravity became, with stronger and even more unpredictable attacks. It was as if he'd entered the god's maze.
By the time he made it to the twentieth step, his entire robe was tattered, his arms sliced nicely with sweat beads on his forehead. Yet his determination and his aura flared like a wild beast. He'd made it this far, he wasn't going to back down before he reached the last step.
Boom!
By the fiftieth step, his entire body was covered in blood—he literally looked like a bloodied monster. The swords within the hall trembled slightly as they sensed his indomitable will. This wasn't a trial meant for any normal person, as a matter of fact, it wasn't even a trial—but merciless slaughter.
Dao Wei pushed on with everything he had and by the time he reached the eightieth step, the entire throne began humming and emitting an aura with a pressure that threatened to push him back down the stairs.
The moment Dao Wei was standing atop the last step, the sword throne shifted violently as a giant figure of pure intent manifested. He represented absolute power, wearing imperial flowing robes that seemed to be sewn from the very essence of sword intent. His presence alone was enough to eradicate worlds, suffocating. The true representation of a Sword Avatar.
His voice rumbled, echoing through the entire hall as it judged Dao Wei with a piercing gaze. "No one has ever conquered the steps of dominion," it spoke.
The air trembled and temperatures within the hall plummeted. Dao Wei held his breath as he tried by all his might not to kneel to a mere will.
Countless swords in the hall unsheathed themselves, the sword's spirits hovering in the air as if preparing for a battle.
"Make the swords bow, or seize to exist forbidden one!" the avatar roared once more.
Dao Wei exhaled, "Does this cursed tower really want to kill me?" he groaned.
His body was battered, his entire muscle ached—yet he still had to defend his life. This was no longer just a physical trial, but an imperial judgment by the heavens themselves. A battle of will.
Dao Wei took a single step toward the throne.
Whoosh!
The instant he moved, all the sword rained down on him like holy grail. Each holding the wisdom of a thousand sages, a single touch was a death sentence.
However, Dao Wei stood tall. Bloodied and buttered but he emitted an aura so ancient that it was hard to believe such a beat-up person still had such fire in them.
"Kneel!" his voice was a thunderous decree. Sending shockwaves that shook the entire hall as if a god had just released their aura.
Boom!
Sword intent exploded violently from his body causing the air to crack.
Suddenly, the first row of the swords trembled violently before they bent.
Dao Wei took the second step.
The second row followed, one by one bending as if submitting to the imperial ruler. Each step came with an increase in intent, expanding reluctantly like a storm.
The third row knelt.
Unable to withstand Dao Wei's sheer will, the fourth row shattered into fine particles. And by the time he was standing right before the throne, every single sword within the hall was kneeling.
The Sword Avatar disintegrated into pure essence, rushing into Dao Wei's sea of Qi like an endless stream of water. The entire knowledge of the Sword Emperor flooded into his existence.
Sword King's Path—he had unlocked a domineering and ancient path for swordsmanship.
The stages of mastery appeared in his sea of Qi, spiraling like a pyramid: Dominion, Sword Aura, Domain, and beyond. Each one fully detailed and described as if written by an ancient god of knowledge.
Meanwhile…
Outside, the once pristine blue skies twisted into a scene of both horror and nightmare. A cold wind howled across the entire sect, carrying an overwhelming sense of death.
A dreadful silence overlaps the Sword God Sect before the pressure.
Boom!
It was so oppressive and suffocating that even the most calm elders shifted from their seats. The ground trembled and quaked, the air becoming so thick with the stench of death even though there had been no battle.
From the horizon, an army of black-cloaked men approached like a swarm of bees. Hundred figures moved in complete silence as if they were one with the wind itself. Their presence exuded an eerie aura of doom, their robes as black as the night with crimson sigils etched on them that resembled demonic eyes.
These were none other than the dreaded assassins of the Hall of Nine Sins—a sinister faction with a history of razing entire sects to the ground, leaving behind nothing but charred ruins and despair.
At their forefront stood four figures, their auras so oppressive that even the most battle-hardened elders instinctively tensed…