CHAPTER 26: SWORD SAINT

"Puchi!"

Blood splattered onto the cracked ground as a Nascent Soul cultivator coughed violently, clutching his chest. "Damn it...! Why is there still no response from the Sword Saint Heaven?"

Another elder sneered, though his trembling hands betrayed his fear. "Maybe the Sword Saint Heaven has already escaped like the others. Tell me—who in their right mind would stay behind to face that abomination? If I were them, I’d be halfway across the continent by now."

His words fell like stones into water—no one rebuked him.

For a brief moment, every Nascent Soul expert there wore the same expression of reluctant agreement. Pride demanded silence, but in their hearts, they all knew the truth: if given the chance, they too would have fled.

Then, without warning, the heavens shuddered.

The sky rippled as if a colossal hand was tearing it apart. Clouds warped and twisted, bleeding into hues of violet and black. The very air screamed—a thunderous roar that rattled bones and made spiritual seas quiver.

Before anyone could react, a shadow blotted out the world.

Their hearts froze. That vast darkness... it wasn’t a cloud, nor a formation. It was alive.

The Nascent Soul experts craned their necks upward, horror flooding their faces. Even before they could see the details, their spiritual sense told them what it was.

A five-winged Soul Parasite.

"Impossible..." someone whispered, voice shaking. "That’s—Deity Transformation level..."

Their words died in their throats. A suffocating pressure crashed down like a divine mountain, bending the tallest towers and splitting the streets open. Spirit barriers shattered like glass. Mortals screamed and fled, only to be crushed by waves of spiritual energy that rolled through the city.

"W–we’re dead," muttered one cultivator, knees trembling. His mind had already broken. "Dead... all of us..."

A streak of white light flashed.

Before anyone could blink, one of their own had turned into a beam of sword qi, vanishing into the horizon at full speed.

The others stared after him, stunned—then realization hit.

"Coward!" one roared, veins bulging in his neck. "A moment ago he was shouting about honor—!"

But his curses were drowned by a deeper roar.

The clouds tore open. From within, the chimera dragon descended, a grotesque fusion of scales, bone, and glistening flesh. Its five massive wings were torn and stitched together by black tendrils, dripping with liquid soul energy. Just one glance at its eyes—an endless pit of writhing faces—was enough to drive half the survivors insane.

Screams echoed across the city.

Cultivators fell from the sky like shattered dolls.

Mortals clawed their eyes out to escape the sight.

Ren Zhao, the strongest among them, stood trembling—but his trembling was not from fear. It was fury. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth cracked. His aura erupted, flames and lightning spiraling around his body.

With a roar that shook heaven and earth, his body expanded—muscles thick as steel cords, veins glowing like molten rivers. In an instant, he became a ten-meter-tall war god, his eyes burning with madness and despair.

Still, compared to the abomination above, he looked no larger than an ant.

Then a voice echoed—a voice neither male nor female, carrying mockery sharp enough to cut through souls.

"Heheheh... these are the humans the Supreme once feared? What a pity."

The air itself vibrated as it spoke. "It seems the Soul Parasite will soon have a new leader."

The ground quaked. Buildings collapsed. Even the protective barrier of the city trembled like glass about to shatter.

Ren Zhao’s expression twisted—rage, defiance, fear. His knuckles bled from gripping his weapon too tightly.

He knew this was hopeless.

He knew this was death.

But still... he refused to kneel.

With a final roar that carried the weight of his shattered pride, Ren Zhao leapt into the sky like a blazing comet.

"There’s no way I’m dying—without a fight!"

"So this is the last boss... huh."

Wang Chen’s voice was calm—almost serene—as his eyes traced the monstrous silhouette blotting out the sky. The five-winged chimera dragon coiled above the last surviving settlement like the embodiment of despair itself.

But unlike everyone else—who watched with dread, trembling under its suffocating aura—Wang Chen’s tone carried something else.

Relief.

Lin Luan, standing beside him, noticed that subtle inflection immediately. Her lips parted, but no words came out. For a reason she couldn’t explain, a deep ache spread through her chest. An invisible loneliness coiled around her heart like a cold serpent.

She had a feeling—terrifyingly certain—that this was the end.

That her master, the man who had walked beside her for over a hundred years, was about to vanish.

Then, as if confirming her worst fears, a quiet, indifferent voice broke the silence.

"Sword Domain: Infinite Sword Rain."

Lin Luan’s breath hitched. Her pupils dilated.

"Master...!"

But it was too late.

The world itself changed.

From Wang Chen’s body, an unseen pulse rippled outward—gentle, yet absolute. The sky shuddered. The clouds inverted colors. The abomination above, the terrified Nascent Soul experts below, even the trembling city walls—all of it fell under his domain.

In that instant, creation itself seemed to pause.

Wang Chen stood at the heart of it all, his eyes dull yet boundless, reflecting neither mercy nor hatred—only weariness. His face was calm, but his gaze carried the exhaustion of one who had seen too much.

If not for that faint trace of sorrow in his eyes, he could have been mistaken for a statue... or a god.

His lips parted. A single word escaped—soft, but carrying the weight of divine judgment.

"Die."

The five-winged Soul Parasite froze mid-roar, its monstrous head jerking toward Wang Chen as if sensing something it could no longer comprehend.

It realized too late.

Maybe if it hadn’t ignored that insignificant human centuries ago—

Maybe if it hadn’t allowed him to grow in the shadows—

The ending might have been different.

The air trembled.

The trees quivered.

The thunder, the clouds, even the dust floating midair—all distorted, sharpened.

The world itself turned into swords.

Each blade shimmered with the reflection of eternity. Countless swords—tens of thousands, then hundreds of thousands, then millions—descended like a storm of divine retribution.

The chimera dragon didn’t even have time to scream.

Its body was shredded to dust, its soul obliterated into nothingness.

The storm did not stop.

The swords rained endlessly until not even a drop of blood remained in the sky.

Then silence.

Wang Chen stood motionless amidst the ruins of the world. One by one, system notifications flickered before his eyes like fading stars.

[You have slain: Five-Winged Soul Parasite (Deity Transformation)]

[Soul Parasite Army Annihilated]

[Tower Recognition Increased]

But he didn’t care anymore. The triumph that should have made him proud felt hollow.

He exhaled slowly, his voice barely audible.

"...Finally. It’s over."

All he wanted now was to return to his courtyard—to his chair, his tea, the peace he once called life.

Far below, Ren Zhao watched the spectacle with eyes wide and trembling. His massive body shook uncontrollably.

"Is... this what a deity-level cultivator can do?" he muttered.

But even as he spoke, he already knew the truth.

No.

This was something beyond Deity Transformation. Beyond mortal comprehension.

A god disguised as a man.

Wang Chen, however, wasn’t finished.

The blades—extensions of his will—continued to sweep through the battlefield, hunting down every remaining Soul Parasite. Each time one perished, the number in his vision climbed. 991,340... 998,021...

Almost there.

His gaze shifted faintly, landing on Lin Luan, her slender silhouette trembling at the edge of his vision.

"A hundred years together..."

He paused, a flicker of emotion rippling through his tired eyes—nostalgia, perhaps regret. Then he shook his head softly.

"No... this world isn’t real. None of this is."

As those words faded into the silence, a gentle chime echoed in his mind.

[The Tower of Infinite Enlightenment acknowledges your triumph.]

[Trial completed: 110 years elapsed.]

[New Record Established.]

[Please select your reward, Master.]

The light of the system reflected in his eyes—cold, distant, eternal.

And for the first time in over a century... Wang Chen smiled.

However before choosing a reward, there was something that he wanted to see for one last time.

"Status"

Name: [Wang Chen]

Class: Sword Saint of the Eternal Blade

HP: 24,800 / 24,800

Stamina: 16,500 / 16,500

Strength: 8,760

Agility: 7,940

Endurance: 6,420

Perception: 5,780

Willpower: 5,250

Sword Intent: MAX (100%)

Compared to when he had first gotten it, the class had undergone a huge transformation, not just class. Looking at the almost endless list of skills, Wang Chen couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

He ignored every other skill and only focused on the strongest skill that he had gotten at the last few levels, after all he might get one of these skills as reward.

[Transcendent Saint Skills]

[Sword Soul Manifestation [Passive] – Sword gains sentience, fights independently.]

[Absolute Edge [Active] – Cuts through all forms of matter, energy, or magic.]

[Chronoblade [Active] – Freeze time for 3 seconds while freely attacking.]

[Sword Domain: Infinity [Ultimate] – Summon endless sword projections that obliterate everything within a hundred km radius.]

[Eternal Will of the Blade [Passive] – Permanently resist death, curses, and reality alteration.]