This was a group of white-robed youths, sixteen in total, both men and women. They all bore swords on their backs, their auras sharp and their gazes cutting like blades. People didn’t dare to look directly at them.1

Their auras were transcendent, exuding an air of detachment. They looked like immortals who had descended upon the mortal world—cold, lofty, and utterly distinct. In this gathering, they were like cranes among chickens.0

They were sword cultivators, and shockingly powerful ones at that. No one had expected such a formidable group to appear here at once.0

It was said that after the Sword God fell, his body transformed into the Dao, scattering the Sword Dao’s karmic luck throughout the nine...2