At the very center of the Orion-Jade Spiral Arm floated a dark, jagged continent made entirely of dead stars and broken iron blades.
This was the Galactic Core Sword-Tomb, the most terrifying forbidden zone in ten thousand solar systems. No cargo ship dared to fly within fifty light-years of its borders. Millions of rusted broadswords, snapped rapiers, and cracked greatswords jutted out of the black rock like a forest of sharp metal teeth. Cold silver mist drifted between the blades, carrying a Sword Intent so sharp that ordinary Star Realm cultivators would have their skin sliced open just by breathing near the outer edge.
Right now, outside the towering main gate of the tomb—which was shaped like a three-hundred-foot stone coffin standing upright—seventeen battered old men were banging their heads against the black rock.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Blood dripped down their wrinkled foreheads, staining their torn silk robes. These seventeen old men were the only high-ranking elders from the 108 Anti-Tax Immortal Coalition sects who had managed to escape Pei Xuan’s black-iron brick rain by burning their life-saving blood talismans at the last second.
“Wake up, Supreme Sword Emperor!” howled Elder He, the Vice-Sect Master of the Nine-Cloud Sword Sect, his white beard soaked in tears and snot. “Please open your coffin! The Spiral Arm has fallen into the hands of a demon!”
