The six mountain-sized blood-cleavers fell simultaneously.
It was not a normal sword strike.
It was thirty million tons of meteoric star-iron, powered by ninety percent of an Upper-Realm warship’s astral reactor, plummeting from the stratosphere at Mach 20.
The six blades combined into a single, terrifying wedge of serrated blood-steel. The friction against the air generated temperatures hot enough to turn bedrock into boiling glass.
The target was not Supreme Sword Mountain.
The target was the roof of the Gu Family Courtyard.
Directly beneath that falling mountain of blades knelt Empress Luo Qingxue and the five children, huddled by the wooden dining table.
If that strike landed, the courtyard, the hill, and the entire city below would be ground into an eight-mile crater of molten slag.
