WHOOSSHH!!! Xiao Hu’s body vanished from sight. There was no energy signal, no ripple of power. He truly disappeared in an instant, as if swallowed by empty space. But before anyone could react, his figure reappeared. Now, he stood beyond the Xiao Clan’s territory—directly beneath the blood-red sky, where an unimaginable number of flaming meteors rained down. Without hesitation, Xiao Hu raised his hand to the sky. His body emitted a dense wave of energy that made the air around him sizzle. Then, he struck upward with his fist. It was a simple motion—but from it, lightning surged with fury. This lightning wasn’t ordinary; it was like a divine flood breaching the heavens. The lightning surged upward, endless and coiling like a thunder dragon. It slammed directly into the heart of the meteor storm. DUUUAARR!!! DUUUAARR!!! DUUUAARR!!! The fiery meteors exploded one by one. Each blast released a shockwave that shook both air and space. Thick plumes of smoke filled the sky, forming r

The atmosphere instantly shifted. Tension returned, wrapping the entire arena in a silence so deep it felt breathless. The gazes of the elders, the core disciples, and cultivators from every corner of the galaxy all focused on a single point. Xiao Leng stepped into the martial arena, where Xiao Tian still stood firm. His steps were not rushed, but each one carried weight. Xiao Leng’s aura pressed outward in all directions as he moved forward. The ripple of his energy was like sharp wind slicing through space. Yet, his steps remained courteous. He cupped his hands in a respectful gesture. “I suspected you were our young master. But for this match, forgive me… I won’t be holding back.” His voice was steady. No hesitation. No unnecessary words. Only the stance of a warrior who had decided to fight without exceptions. As a fighter, he understood—the opponent before him was no longer a junior. He was a man who had challenged the world itself. Xiao Tian sneered. “I don’t want you to ho

Xiao Leng's body was flung backward, but before he touched the ground, he twisted mid-air and launched another attack. His movements held no hesitation, full of conviction—as if refusing to accept that someone could reverse his assault without using any technique. Xiao Tian met him without pause, their fists colliding with a thunderous boom, as if the hammers of the ancestors were striking anvils in the sky. The sound echoed with a resonance from ages past, reverberating deep into the spectators’ bones, leaving some with tight chests, as though even the breath of the world itself had stalled. Everyone rubbed their eyes in disbelief at what they were witnessing. It was clear—they were only testing each other. The real fight had not yet begun. They weren’t using martial skills or bodily techniques. And yet, their clash created terrifying phenomena. The vibrations from every punch shook the air, and the sound of their blows sent shockwaves rippling through the entire arena. The arena, w

Xiao Tian drew out a mysterious rusty sword, a blade he had kept hidden in silence all this time. There was no dazzling gleam, no flaring aura—but the moment that sword appeared in his hand, the entire arena felt quieter than ever before. The sound of the crowd slowly faded, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed against the senses. No one moved. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Hundreds of eyes locked onto the seemingly worthless blade. A weapon that had nothing to boast of at first glance—but precisely because of that, it commanded all attention with a silence more gripping than any roar or display of power. Without any dramatic movement, Xiao Tian connected with the spirit of the rusty sword through his consciousness. “Old thing, are you afraid of facing a sword called the Hell King?” A burst of laughter erupted from within the sword spirit, filled with scorn rooted in ancient confidence. “Hahaha, master… are you joking? How could I be afraid of a low-grade artifact

Several members of the younger generation, those who had yet to reach the True God level, were forced to cover their ears. The energy ripples from the clash were too dense—carrying an intent to split the world into two opposing existences. The Elders, though unmoving, had now activated thin layers of defense around themselves. Not out of fear—but because what was happening in the center of the arena had far exceeded their original expectations. Xiao Leng felt something was wrong. Every time his sword clashed, he sensed a massive drain on his divine energy. It wasn’t normal. The rusty sword was like a miniature black hole, absorbing energy from each contact. He tried to accelerate the pace of his attacks, hoping that relentless pressure would throw his opponent off. But instead, the opposite happened. The faster he moved, the more energy was drained. His breathing began to falter. He realized—this wasn’t about who was stronger anymore. It was about who could endure longer agains