Endless Debt Chapter 1114 - 121: Ring of Swords_4

The First Seat began to entertain the suspicion that he had been lured into a trap; an excessive number of Seekers of Glory were present on this day.

As this thought consumed him, an immense darkness enveloped him, and in its wake, a colossal boulder descended like a hurtling meteor. The First Seat brandished his sword, cleaving the boulder asunder, only to find it comprised of countless, minuscule boulders that swarmed Xilin. At Xilin's command, these fragments relentlessly battered the First Seat, forcing him to gasp for air and obliterating the pathway beneath him into a thousand fractured pieces.

"Xilin!"

Amidst the cacophony of impacts, the First Seat's desperate plea echoed as he lay prostrate on the ground.

"I surrender to you... I surrender to you..."

Xilin regarded him with a glacial gaze, the Cross Sword Light shimmering as he approached the First Seat from a considerable distance. Observing his desperate state, Xilin let out a sudden, sharp laugh.

Simultaneously, the First Seat propelled himself forward with explosive force; his chest ripped open, revealing a blood-drenched arm that lunged out, seizing the Sword of Confession and plunging it toward Xilin's heart. The blade grazed Xilin's Armor but halted, unable to advance even a hair's breadth further.

Xilin extended a hand, gesturing for him to cease, and the formidable Power of Command manifested as an invisible, impenetrable bulwark, rendering swords and knives utterly useless.

"I have harbored this desire for a long time, First Seat."

Xilin's voice, though clear and emotionless, carried a chilling undertone, steeped in a palpable sense of impending violence.

"My fury, my Blade, I have held them in check for far too long."

A golden luminescence flickered within Xilin's irises, his expression contorted with immeasurable rage. Xilin appeared poised to utter more but instead shook his head, dismissing the thought and opting for a more succinct declaration.

"Never mind, only those who have attained the crown need to employ pleasantries. Now, all that is required is... action."

With a forceful shove that sent the First Seat reeling as if struck by a speeding train, Xilin propelled him through successive layers of walls and structures, ultimately blasting him into the sky beyond the confines of the pathway.

In the final, fading vision, Xilin's Ring of Swords dissolved, unleashing a torrent of Secret Swords that assailed his foe, while the Alchemy Matrix took form upon Xilin's very being.

Secret Energy·Royal Domain.

After countless years, the First Seat once again bore witness to this all-consuming power.

The First Seat's form hung suspended in the air. His gaze first fell upon the Immovable Sword, its unyielding Sword Body absorbing Xilin's terrifying might, and it moved with blinding speed. By this point, the First Seat had been outpaced by Xilin; the Immovable Sword pierced the First Seat's chest, emerging from his back and tearing through his entire thoracic cavity.

A torrent of blood erupted, accompanied by shattered bone fragments, visceral matter, and coagulated tissue, spilling out like refuse, creating a horrifying tableau of gore and stench.

Before his flesh could even begin to mend, the Core Flame Sword slashed across the First Seat's waist and abdomen, burrowing into his spine and igniting a raging inferno. In a brutal execution by pyre, the First Seat was instantly consumed by flames, becoming a blazing effigy.

From choked groans to piercing screams, from pained cries to venomous curses, wails and roars mingled, echoing in the superheated atmosphere.

A surge of crimson light appeared, and the Blood Transfer Sword shot through the air, impaling the First Seat's shoulder from crown to clavicle, severing a significant portion of his cheek. The exposed flesh convulsed like gasping fish, and then the Immovable Sword struck anew, penetrating from behind, its tip protruding from his throat, emitting a ghastly, wheezing sound.

Three Secret Swords became embedded within the First Seat's rapidly regenerating flesh. He attempted to resist, but a thunderous boom grew closer and closer, accompanied by a cacophony of unsettling, distorted noises.

With each tremor, the entire pathway fractured and crumbled; buildings disintegrated into rubble, wooden planks, twisted rebar, and concrete blocks... all deformations piling together, coalescing into the head of a monstrous, slithering serpent.

As it consumed more of the urban landscape, the serpent's colossal form expanded exponentially, tangled cables forming its sinews, scattering dense, glittering shards of glass. The serpent's head reared high, adorned with a chaotic mosaic of materials in every imaginable color, shape, and size, appearing from afar like a monstrous, unfinished jigsaw puzzle.

Xilin commanded the very structures of the pathway, bending them to his will; he had long yearned to obliterate everything into dust.

The serpent's surface was a grotesque landscape of protruding horns, razor-sharp edges, and irregular depressions, both deep and shallow, creating a profoundly disturbing visual. With every movement, these disparate materials scraped, collided, and ground against each other, producing a discordant symphony of sounds and thuds that evoked a palpable sense of chaos, disorder, and terror.

It was the very embodiment of the ravaged pathway.

Beneath this chaotic exterior, the serpent's interior revealed substantial chunks of concrete and steel bars, serving as its skeletal framework, supporting the entirety of its massive structure.

With its maw agape, the serpent lunged towards the First Seat. Despite his attempts to evade, the First Seat found himself immobilized by the potent Secret Energy, his very being constricted by the might of the Secret Swords. Upon the serpent's scales, fragments of once-gleaming tiles were visible, their once-vibrant designs starkly out of place amidst the oppressive gloom.

The impact between serpent and cultivator was instantaneous, akin to a thousand razors tearing through flesh. The First Seat fractured, his form disintegrating into the eerie Sea of Mist that lay beyond.

Xilin drew back as if notching an arrow, though no bow was present. In his hand, a Silence Sword, imbued with the venom of the Devil, whirled with menace. The poisoned, obsidian-like blade spun furiously beside Xilin.