After a thousand years of cultivation, he returns at the pinnacle!

"Awesome, absolutely awesome!"

"I've never seen Ye Wuhen fight before, but now... I really think he's amazing!!"

That was also the first time Jiang Chen had seen this legendary sword saint make a move. The pinnacle of awakened beings in the Dragon Kingdom was indeed powerful.

Ye Wuhen first demonstrated his strength on the third level. At that time, their opponent was an apostle without a physical form, which was a bit troublesome. However, Ye Wuhen simply drew his sword slightly, and an invisible sword intent pierced through the enemy.

The attack was so swift that many people were unaware that Ye Wuhen had even drawn his sword; the speed of his attack left them speechless.

After that, it was a straight push.

And so, they arrived at the seventieth floor! This was a floor that Ye Wuhen had never reached before.

The three awakened beings working together seem to be even more powerful than expected.

On the seventieth floor, the sky above is a fake starry sky.

Ye Wuhen stopped in his tracks.

He glanced up at the illusory starry sky, then looked down at the flowing light beneath his feet. His longsword remained sheathed, but his thumb was already on the hilt—a habit he'd developed over thirty years, an action he'd unconsciously perform when facing a truly powerful enemy.

Zhou Tianze stood to his left, the short spear in his left hand already raised, the arcs of electricity on its tip denser than ever before, the crackling sound echoing in the empty hall. His right eye was slightly narrowed, and his prosthetic left eye gleamed with an unnatural cold light in the dark red glow. His bare upper body was scarred, the scars appearing like twisted earthworms in the shifting light and shadow.

Luo Qinghe stood to his right, her ice-blue combat uniform standing out starkly against the dark red environment. An ice flower had already formed in her right palm, its petals layered upon each other, each as thin as a cicada's wing, its edges sharp as blades. Her left arm remained motionless at her side, but her stance had been adjusted to the optimal angle—weight on her right foot, her left leg slightly back, ready to move in any direction at any moment.

In the very center of the hall sat a person.

Saying it was sitting wasn't quite accurate. The thing was about three meters tall, sitting cross-legged and suspended in mid-air, about half a meter above the ground. Its body resembled a bronze statue, its entire surface a deep, metallic bluish-gray. Its skin had no pores, no hair, and none of the textures one would expect from a living creature; only fine, forging-like lines distributed along the direction of its muscles, gleaming with a cold, hard light under the dark red glow.

It has no neck. Or rather, its head is directly embedded in its torso, with no clear boundary. The head has no facial features—no eyes, no nose, no ears, only a slit running across its entire face, from its left temple to its right. The slit is tightly closed, like a sleeping snake.

Its limbs were disproportionately thick, each finger as long as an average person's forearm, with distinct knuckles and nails covered with a dark gray, keratin-like substance. It sat cross-legged, its hands resting on its knees, palms up, fingers slightly bent, like an ancient Buddha statue in meditation.

But no Buddha statue gives people this sense of oppression.

From the moment Ye Wuhen stepped onto this floor, he felt his heart beating harder and slower than usual, each contraction feeling like an invisible hand clenching tightly. This wasn't fear—he had lived for over fifty years, experienced countless life-or-death situations, and long since forgotten what fear felt like. It was a primal bodily reaction, the most primitive warning a creature gives when facing a predator.

Zhou Tianze also sensed it. His breathing became heavier than usual, and the arcs of electricity on his short spear pulsed faster, as if something was interfering with his control over the lightning. He frowned, and the speed at which his lightning spiritual power circulated instantly increased, forcibly suppressing the discomfort.

Luo Qinghe's face was paler than usual. She bit her lip, and the ice flower on her right hand solidified even more.

The deep voice echoed once more from the dome of the hall. This time, the voice was slower than ever before, each word seeming to be squeezed out from beneath a thick metal plate, carrying an ancient and solemn quality.

"The seventieth floor, the gatekeeper—the Immortal Apostle."

After the sound dissipated, the bronze figure that had been suspended in mid-air moved.

The fissure across its face slowly opened, revealing a thin, dark red slit. There were no eyes, no teeth, only a bottomless darkness. Something flowed within the darkness, like lava, or perhaps some more fundamental, primal energy.

Its hands rose from its knees, its fingers slowly spreading. As the hands moved through the air, they emitted a low, metallic hum, like two heavy swords scraping against each other.

Then, it stood up.

The process of going from levitation to standing took about three seconds. But during those three seconds, the entire hall trembled. The dark red light on the ground flickered violently, the stars on the dome began to spin faster, and a strong smell, like a mixture of rust and sulfur, filled the air.

When it stood fully upright, it was nearly four meters tall. It lowered its head—if the crack could be considered its head—"looking" at the three tiny humans before it. The dark red light within the crack brightened slightly, as if it were scrutinizing or assessing them.

Zhou Tianze did not wait.

He made his move.

A silver lightning spear, as thick as a bucket, shot from his palm with a piercing shriek, striking the Undying Apostle directly in the chest. This was the move he used to kill the gatekeeper in one strike on the thirtieth floor; its power was enough to level a small mountain.

The lightning spear struck the target.

There was no explosion. There was no sound.

Silvery-white arcs of electricity exploded and leaped wildly across the chest of the Immortal Apostle, but the bronze-colored figure remained motionless. The arcs flowed across its surface for a few seconds, then vanished silently as if absorbed by something. Not even a scorch mark remained on the Immortal Apostle's chest.

Zhou Tianze's pupils contracted slightly.

"That's interesting."

He unleashed both hands simultaneously, this time not a single lightning spear, but dozens, each imbued with thirty percent of his spiritual power, bombarding the Undying Apostle from different angles and directions. Silver-white arcs of electricity intertwined in the air, forming a dense net of fire that completely enveloped the bronze-colored figure.

boom!!!

The continuous explosions echoed through the hall, causing the runes on the walls to flicker violently. The silvery-white light was blinding, and the air was filled with a strong, acrid smell of ionization.

The light dissipated.

The Undying Apostle remained standing in the same spot, its position and posture unchanged. Its surface was still smooth as a mirror, without a single scratch. The lightning bolts, powerful enough to destroy a city, had left no mark on it.

His attacks were like water splashed on a stone, leaving the stone completely dry.