5059 Breaking the Sect With a Single Sword Strike

The grand hall, built with warm jade, had a simple and dignified facade, but now it was riddled with more than a dozen holes, looking both ridiculous and absurd.

More than a dozen senior elders of the sect had been beaten and were rolling on the ground like gourds. They hadn't even had the chance to release their Yan power, and they lay in the hall like toppled old dogs, utterly silent.

Silence, a deafening silence.

Nearly 1,000 disciples who had come to the front of the Shangjun Grand Hall witnessed this scene, completely dumbfounded.

Their elders, who were highly respected and had unfathomable strength, had actually been beaten into rolling gourds?

Gu Ting was flabbergasted. He even tried hard to blink his eyes, trying to see if it was an illusion.

This was simply unimaginable. Just a single slap had sent more than ten Yan Immortals flying. Looking at it, even a Quasi-Grand Yan Immortal probably couldn't achieve such a feat!

But now, this scene had actually happened.

"Brat, you're courting death!"

A thunderous shout echoed out, led by the old man with long beard. 13 Shangjun Sect elders charged out of the Grand Hall, launching an attack on Jian Wushuang.

At this moment, time seemed to stand still, and the perceptions of every cultivator and Yan Immortal present appeared to slow down.

Only Jian Wushuang remained unaffected, his movements unchanged as he ascended the steps step by step.

Looking at the elders surrounding him from all directions, he appeared indifferent.

However, he raised his hand casually and made a simple gesture.

Sword Intent Spread!

Pfft—

A distinct tearing sound reached the ears of every cultivator present.

Then, all 13 elders groaned simultaneously and were once again sent flying backward.

As they fell, their colorful divine blood splattered the jade steps, forming a bloody path.

13 elders, 13 Yan Immortals , all had their right arms disabled in that moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The divine blood flowed from their severed arms, staining the jade steps red.

In their eyes, only fear remained as they clutched their severed arms and retreated incessantly.

Jian Wushuang, dressed in his pearly white robes, remained untainted by a single drop of blood. He walked slowly, ascending the steps.

"I'll give you one last chance. Will you die here in obscurity, or will your Sect Master come out?" Jian Wushuang spoke calmly, without a hint of emotion.

The elderly man with a long beard, who led the group, pale-faced and holding his severed arm, said, "Junior, do you realize you are opposing our entire Shangjun Sect?"

He raised an eyebrow and replied, "So what?" 

"Chen Qing, sword!"

"He's it is!" On the square, Chen Qing laughed loudly, pulled out the True Sword from his waist, and threw it at Jian Wushuang.

Clang--

The True Sword broke through the clouds and landed in his hand.

Seemingly seeing through his intentions, the long-bearded old man's heart trembled and he cried out involuntarily, "No!"

But it was already too late.

Jian Wushuang guided the sword with his hand, unleashing the most dazzling force.

At this moment, it was as if a thousand suns shattered, and the fringe-like power flowed and blossomed.

All cultivators, including the immortal practitioners, couldn't even look directly at it.

With a single slash, the grand hall that had stood for countless ages in this realm shattered with a resounding crash.

The intricate beams and painted rafters turned into ruins, pavilions and towers crumbled into powder.

The rotating order of the heavens and the Dao collapsed and ceased to exist.

One sword strike destroyed the sect!

The fringe-like power scattered, and all disciples of the Shangjun Sect opened their eyes, their faces turning pale.

The pavilions and towers had turned into level ground, and nothing remained.

Chen Qing was exhilarated, punching the air with his fist. After exchanging a glance with Chun Qiu, he leaped towards Jian Wushuang.

Gu Ting was completely shocked. His chest heaved up and down violently.

This scene was too shocking. The foundation of the Shangjun Sect had been reduced to dust by a single sword strike.

He had a strong intuition that the Supreme Sect was in grave danger today.

In front of the shattered hall, Jian Wushuang returned the sword to Chen Qing without even glancing at the elders of the Shangjun Sect, who were already mentally defeated. He walked straight into the ruins.

His goal was to find Cui Jing, Wei Liujia, and Feng Shan, and no one could stop him.

Soon, Jian Wushuang stopped walking.

Because a slender and stooped figure blocked his path.

"You cannot proceed any further," the thin, stooped figure said, their voice raspy yet resolute.

"Sure. Return those three Immortal practitioners you shouldn't have touched, and I won't pursue this further," Jian Wushuang said decisively.

Unexpectedly, the hunchbacked figure shook his head. "It's impossible now. The Shangjun Heavenly Palace has been damaged by you, enough to offset the lives of those three Yan Immortals."

Jian Wushuang smirked coldly, "It seems that you don't intend to hand them over?"

"Please leave now, or else the consequences are beyond what you can bear," the hunched figure continued.

"Chen Qing, Chun Qiu, attack," Jian Wushuang shouted coldly.

Chen Qing and Chun Qiu responded without any hesitation, moving directly forward.

And that mysterious hunched figure, who seemed to come out of nowhere, also sprang into action. His movements were incredibly agile, like a ghost, as he confronted them head-on.

Fists clashed with palms, and terrifying Yan power surged like a torrent, directly sweeping everything away.

Buzz!

Like an ancient thunderclap, it reverberated through the heavens, powerful enough to clear the skies.

Under the assault of Chen Qing and Chun Qiu, the hunched figure unexpectedly withstood their attacks without retreating a step.

Then, he shook his arms, sending Chen Qing and Chun Qiu flying dozens of yards away.

"You're asking for death!" Chen Qing shouted, launching a powerful punch that tore through the air, causing the heavens to change color.

Chun Qiu also joined the battle, a short sword with intricate purple patterns emerging from his sleeve, thrusting fiercely forward.

These were the full-powered strikes of two peak Yan Immortals.

The hunched figure remained in place, unflinching, choosing to endure their attacks.

Boom, boom...

In an instant, the ruins and debris turned to dust, and all the disciples of the Shangjun Sect who were present retreated thousands of yards, scattered in all directions.

The hunched figure staggered back ten yards, a short sword deeply embedded in his chest, with blood gushing out and staining the ground.

"Let's go." Jian Wushuang sternly commanded and was about to move forward.

"You... can't go!" The hunchbacked figure opened his arms in an attempt to stop him.

Jian Wushuang ignored him, extending his hand to release a stream of Yan power to bind him, then proceeded toward the depths of the ruins.

The entire Shangjun Sect hall and even the plane itself were thoroughly disrupted, resembling a doomsday scene.

Jian Wushuang destroyed the Shangjun Sect's main hall with one sword strike. He did not kill them all. Instead, he followed the faint aura and walked deeper into the main hall.

"Do you have to do this?" A low, almost seductive voice resonated from the wreckage, carrying a captivating aura.

Jian Wushuang halted his steps, looking impassively ahead.

After a few breaths, the entire space began to tremble, and then strands of misty gray spiritual energy appeared, converging into a figure in a black robe.

This black-robed figure was tall and extremely skinny, with a strange, skull-like face.

"I have no intention of destroying your Shangjun Sect; I've come to retrieve my friends," Jian Wushuang said. "Release them, and I will leave."

A strong wind suddenly rose from the ruins, making everything even more bizarre.