The sky was bleeding. Crimson clouds stretched across the horizon, lit by explosions that turned the night into a dying sun. Mountains had been reduced to dust, rivers evaporated, and the earth beneath the battlefield lay shattered into cracks that stretched for hundreds of miles.Above it all stood a lone man.Alexander Blackwood’s black hair was soaked with blood. His white robe hung in tatters from shoulders to waist, revealing dozens of wounds. Blood dripped from his fingertips and vanished into the wind. Yet he was smiling—not because he was winning, but because he was dying. His left arm was gone. Three swords pierced his chest. His spiritual sea was collapsing, and even his soul was cracked. Still, the sword in his right hand remained steady.It was an old, simple black blade. No divine runes, no dazzling aura, no ancient inscriptions. Alexander had carried it for more than two hundred years.Across from him stood an existence that made the world tremble—a figure wrapped in dar

The assassin never saw the second strike coming.Bang!Alexander’s stolen sword slammed against the man’s chest. The assassin flew backward like a broken kite, crashing through a wooden wall and vanishing into the darkness.Silence fell. Several black-robed figures stared at the hole in the wall.One of them finally shouted, “He’s only a Body Tempering cultivator!”Another sneered. “Then what are you waiting for? Kill him!”Five figures rushed toward Alexander simultaneously.Alexander sighed. “Five?” He glanced at their swords. “At least bring twenty.”The nearest assassin swung downward. Alexander tilted his head. The blade passed beside his ear—too slow. He stepped forward and tapped the assassin’s wrist with his sword.Crack!The man’s fingers bent unnaturally. His weapon dropped. Alexander caught it before it touched the ground and immediately threw it behind him.Whoosh!The sword pierced another assassin’s shoulder. “One.”Alexander turned. A second attacker came from behind. H

Boom!The moment Leonard disappeared, the ground beneath his feet exploded. A streak of silver shot toward Alexander. The sword arrived before the sound of the explosion—far too fast for a sixteen-year-old Body Tempering cultivator.Emily’s face went pale. “Brother!”William’s expression changed. “Alexander!”The blade was less than an inch from Alexander’s throat.Then—Clang!Alexander’s sword moved. The two blades collided. Leonard’s eyes widened as Alexander’s feet slid backward several meters, his shoes carving two deep lines into the stone floor. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.The difference in cultivation was enormous.Alexander looked at the sword in his hand, then at Leonard. “So that’s Spirit Core.”Leonard stared at him. “You blocked that?”Alexander wiped the blood from his mouth. “Technically.”Leonard’s expression became ugly. “You’re only at Body Tempering.”“I know.”“You should have died.”Alexander nodded. “Probably.”Leonard’s eyes narrowed. “But you d

The entire examination ground fell silent as Alexander stood before the ancient sword monument. It rose nearly ten meters tall, its surface covered with countless sword marks—some deep, some shallow, some looking recent, others so old that moss had grown inside them. This monument had existed for more than three thousand years. It was called the Azure Sword Monument.Every disciple who wished to enter the Azure Sky Sword Sect had to face it. The monument did not measure cultivation. It measured something far more difficult: sword comprehension. A cultivator with weak cultivation could still receive a high evaluation if their understanding of the sword was extraordinary. Likewise, someone with powerful cultivation could completely fail.Alexander remembered his first life. He had stood before this same monument when he was sixteen. Back then his hands had been shaking. He had been terrified. He had placed his hand against the stone, and nothing happened. The elders had laughed. One had

The next morning, Alexander discovered three unfortunate truths. First, the Azure Sky Sword Sect was far more expensive than he remembered. Second, his master was an unreasonable old man. Third, the sect’s breakfast was terrible.Alexander sat at a wooden table outside his courtyard, staring at a bowl of porridge. He picked up his spoon, stirred the porridge, stared at it again, then sighed. “Is this food or a failed alchemy experiment?”A voice answered from above. “If you don’t want it, give it to me!”Alexander looked up. A young man was hanging over the courtyard wall—messy brown hair, a handsome face, and an expression that suggested he had never experienced a moment of embarrassment in his life. Alexander recognized him immediately. Ethan Valerian. The proud young master who had challenged him yesterday.Alexander pointed at him with his spoon. “Why are you climbing my wall?”Ethan jumped down. “I wanted to see how the Sect Master’s personal disciple lives.”“You could have knoc