Starforce Warriors

It took only a few seconds for the elderly man, who appeared to be in his twilight years, to transform into a muscular warrior. This scene stunned countless people.

Many older individuals revealed expressions of astonishment and delight.

Could it be that the art of reversing aging truly exists in this world?

Only Li Xiaofei saw through it. He realized that Jiepeng Sword Saint was burning the last remnants of his life force to unleash the full potential of his body. He had pushed himself to the absolute peak state.

This was the pinnacle of martial arts in the present era. It belonged to the reasonable limits of Earth's martial arts. It was not some supernatural technique from beyond the stars.

Li Xiaofei could not help but sigh in admiration. As expected of a nation's Saint. In this era, where the spiritual energy of Earth was in decline, achieving such a level of martial cultivation was truly unprecedented.

This feat required extraordinary martial talent and an unwavering devotion to the path of martial arts. Had he been born beyond the stars, he could have undoubtedly ascended to the rank of a Star level cosmic lifeform.

What a pity.

Sitting in the spectator's stand, Li Xiaofei carefully observed and analyzed everything. He had to admit, true masters always carried the heart of a student. One should never underestimate others just because they had seen less of the world. Perhaps the only difference between two individuals was their origins. If their roles were reversed, the other person might even surpass him.

In the arena, Oniba Henzō's body erupted with an overwhelming surge of energy and pressure. He gripped the hilt of his massive tachi and drew it from its sheath inch by inch.

It was an unsharpened blade with a pitch black surface. The steel was rough, covered in tiny grain-like indentations, resembling a piece of scrap iron at first glance. But Li Xiaofei could see through its true nature. The black iron was extraordinary and had a faint aura from beyond the stars. It was likely forged from some kind of celestial meteorite.

Oniba Henzō bent his left arm, clamping the blade between his forearm and upper arm, and drew it across his arm with a sudden pull. Fresh blood splattered across the arena. He had used his own flesh and blood to sharpen the blade. The sword now had an edge of unparalleled sharpness.

"This strike of mine is called Shinzō." Blood dripped from Oniba Henzō's left arm as he gazed down upon the newly awakened blade, his eyes burning with fanaticism and excitement."Before this blade was complete, it once slew a sixty-meter-tall mutant Gojira in the Mariana Trench. Now that I have perfected my sword technique, in my heart, this blade is capable of burying gods and demons alike."

He turned toward the four opponents before him. Stepping forward slowly, he assumed a perfect forward stance, stabilizing his center of gravity between his feet. His right hand gripped the hilt, the blade angled upward, while his left hand pressed against the spine of the sword at the midpoint between the hilt and the tip.

A terrifying pressure instantly surged outward. Faced with this stance, the expressions of Daoist Sanjue, Qi Honglei, the young Celestial Master and Li Baoguo underwent a drastic change. At that moment, they all felt as if they were standing on the precipice of an abyss. One misstep and they would fall into eternal oblivion.

An unprecedented pressure slammed down on them from all directions, weighing down on the four warriors like an enormous divine mountain. Their bones let out sorrowful creaks under the overwhelming force.

The first to react was Qi Honglei. The peerless swordsman from the secluded valley of Mount Hua wielded a stone sword that hummed as it unleashed a radiant white glow, enveloping Qi Honglei like a layer of ethereal armor.

The young Celestial Master's forehead glowed as the Xuanhuang Talisman shimmered, its golden light cascading like the weeping branches of a willow. The energy vaguely formed the shape of an ancient bell, shielding this young genius from Wudang Mountain within its protective embrace.

Daoist Sanjue remained silent, gripping his reinforced Azure Lightning Soft Sword tightly. He pushed the internal arts of the Kongtong Sect to their absolute limit, causing streaks of electric-azure sword energy to crackle and arc around him. A single, distinct surge of visible electricity danced across his body.

Li Baoguo, gripping the wooden hilt of his iron-edged saber with both hands, raised the weapon toward the sky. A mysterious force stirred around him, kicking up a swirling sandstorm. In an astonishing display, the energy coalesced into a massive, semi-transparent phantom blade, hovering behind him like an extension of his will.

These four mighty warriors of Great Xia, facing the unparalleled strike of Jiepeng's Sword Saint, found themselves breaking through their limits. They all touched upon the elusive Realm of the Sky People, manifesting unique and wondrous phenomena.

This was the gift bestowed upon them by their formidable opponent. A flicker of delight flashed in Oniba Henzō's eyes. Then, with deliberate control, he slowly pressed his massive blade downward. The very air churned violently on either side of the sword's edge.

To the eye, it seemed as though the space before him was as soft and smooth as white cream. It was effortlessly sliced apart by this single stroke.

Boom.

Qi Honglei's stone sword let out a sorrowful cry before erupting in a dazzling burst of moonlight. However, the radiance lasted less than a second before dimming completely.

A titanic force surged toward Qi Honglei. It was something far beyond what he could withstand. His body was sent flying backward uncontrollably and he coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood in midair. By the time he crashed to the ground, blood was oozing from all seven orifices and he struggled to remain standing.

The young Celestial Master, disregarding everything, frantically channeled his true qi into the Xuanhuang Talisman, attempting to forcibly block this Sky People level strike.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions erupted in rapid succession. The dozens of golden-yellow energy strands descending from the Xuanhuang Talisman shattered one after another in violent detonations.

Though under its protection, the young Celestial Master was caught in the explosion. In the blink of an eye, he was reduced to a piece of living coal as he was burned alive. His clothes and skin were entirely carbonized.

Daoist Sanjue was not as strong as the other two, but he wielded a sword that had been modified by Li Xiaofei. Thanks to this advantage, he barely managed to endure the attack.

Li Baoguo, however, unleashed the full extent of his blade technique and will, embodying the unyielding wildness and defiance innate to the Northwestern Blademasters. Rather than retreating under the immense pressure, he took another step forward.

He slashed powerfully with his iron-edged saber. At the same time, the massive phantom blade hovering behind him followed suit, cleaving down with him.

Boom.

Blade and sword intent clashed violently. But the phantom blade shattered in an instant. Li Baoguo's iron-edged saber followed suit and broke apart. Half of the broken blade spun backward through the air, piercing straight into his chest with a sickening thud, impaling his heart.

The young warrior, who had always roamed free like a wild stallion, froze in place. His body stiffened, unable to take another step forward.

One tachi.

One stone sword.

One mystical talisman.

One soft sword.

One iron saber.

Five great weapons decided victory and defeat in a single instant. Oniba Henzō's blade was as light as the spring breeze, but it effortlessly crushed the combined efforts of four masters.

This was why, before making his move, he had said, 'If you can survive this strike,' instead of 'If you can block this strike.'

Yes. To emerge alive from this single sword stroke was already considered good fortune. Block it? Impossible. As for defeating him? Even more impossible.

In Oniba Henzō's heart, the sword he had just unleashed was unmatched across the entire world. Whether it was martial artists or superpowered beings, no one could withstand it. Even if one were to trace history back through every era and every warrior who had once stood at the peak of human strength, none of them could have received this strike.

This sword represented the absolute pinnacle of individual combat power in Earth's history. It was the embodiment of the ultimate strength.

Oniba Henzō had devoted his entire life to the sword. It had taken him one hundred and fifty-six years to finally unleash this single, perfect strike. The air, split by the sword intent, rolled to either side like a legendary deity parting the sea with a divine staff.

The force of the sword intent tore through the arena with an unstoppable momentum. It surged toward the distant spectator stands and even the outer walls of the Olympic Stadium.

Cries of alarm erupted. But then, Oniba Henzō forcibly redirected his strike. His left hand, which had been pressing against the spine of the blade, suddenly darted forward to grasp the sword's edge. He exerted tremendous effort to lift the blade upward, altering its trajectory.

This adjustment shifted the path of the sword intent, causing it to barely graze the top of the Jin City Olympic Stadium, before shooting into the endless void of the night sky.

However, this last-moment change came at a heavy price. All the fingers on Oniba Henzō's left hand, except for the thumb, was cleanly severed away. Blood dyed the arena red, yet his expression remained serene.

Countless spectators rose to their feet, their faces filled with shock, awe and disbelief. All eyes turned to the towering, broken figure still standing upon the arena.

The night wind blew gently. His black hair rapidly turned white. His once-powerful muscles withered like a dehydrated husk, wrinkling and collapsing inward. His towering frame hunched over in an instant. The once-vibrant life force that had surged within him dissipated like a mirage under the touch of the night breeze. The frail and withered old Sword Saint had returned.

Leaning on his blade for support, he stood there silently, without a word. The night wind tugged at his robes. The fabric, worn and tattered, fluttered apart like fragile butterflies, scattering into the air.

The wind brushed through his hair. The white strands of his hair drifted away, vanishing into the vast night sky. His skin cracked, fragmenting into fine sand-like particles. They were carried off into the wind, grain by grain, like dust scattering into oblivion.

"Master!"

The Jiepeng warriors roared as they rushed onto the stage in a frenzy. On the other side, Zhang Hongjing, leading a team of doctors, hurried onto the arena, swiftly assessing the injuries of Qi Honglei and the others.