I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

Inside the hall, the crowd seemed to be cleaved apart by an invisible blade, and the people on both sides involuntarily retreated, creating a wide avenue.

Ji Tian leaned against the cold stone wall, arms crossed, his gaze indifferently fixed on the doorway.

Footsteps sounded.

A group of people filed in through the main gate.

Leading the group was a young man, around twenty years old, with a tall and straight figure like an evergreen pine tree. His golden hair shone brightly in the sunlight, as if it were made from the most brilliant starlight in the sky.

His eyes were a deep blue, as profound as an ancient icy sea, their calm surface concealing a power capable of tearing the heavens apart.

He wore a light silver-white armor, with a sheathed longsword hanging at his waist. The sheath was pure white and engraved with golden patterns.

Inlaid on the hilt of the sword is a hexagonal gem, crystal clear, with light slowly flowing inside, as if sealing the primordial power of a small world.

This is the Holy Sword.

The one wielding the sword is the hero—Alex.

Four figures followed behind him.

A fiery red streak.

She was a woman dressed in a red robe, with long, fiery red hair that flowed like flames. She held a staff inlaid with a large ruby ​​in her hand, her steps were light, and a smile played on her lips.

She is the Archmage Mason Tull, a pinnacle of the fire element, capable of incinerating the entire world with a mere wave of her hand.

A verdant pine tree.

It was an archer clad in leather armor, his dark brown hair casually tied back, carrying a longbow taller than himself, its body forged from ancient sacred wood, and its bowstring rumored to be made of dragon tendons.

His eyes were terrifyingly sharp, like those of a hawk soaring through the heavens, surveying all living beings and locking onto its prey. Legolas, an elf.

A mountain-like, heavy barrier.

It was a short man dressed in plate armor, with a towering figure and bulging muscles. He carried a giant sword that was wider than a door panel on his back. The sword was as black as ink and exuded a cold killing intent.

With each step he took, the floor of the hall trembled slightly, as if bowing to his power. Bruno, a dwarf.

A pure and holy white as snow.

It was a woman dressed in a white robe, with silvery-white hair cascading down like a waterfall. Her face was gentle and jade-like, and she held a heavy holy book in her hands, with a faint halo pulsating above it.

She exuded an aura of tranquility, like an angel walking among humans. Anna, the accompanying pastor sent by the church.

Five people, five colors.

Ji Tian leaned against the wall, his gaze calmly sweeping over the five figures, but his heart was churning.

"The golden-haired hero—his face has a full forehead and a square jaw, a sign of 'good fortune bestowed upon him.' The sword at his waist is so rich in spiritual energy that it's almost overflowing; it's at least a 'spiritual treasure.'"

His cultivation level... was concealed, but it was likely above the 'Purple Mansion' level.

"The red-haired mage—a single fire-attribute spiritual root, extremely pure. Her affinity for fire elements is... stronger than mine. But her casting method is probably still the 'magic model' approach, it's too slow."

"Elven archer—wood attribute? No, wind attribute. Extremely sharp spiritual sense, probably at the 'spiritual projection' level. Such people are called 'sharp archers' in the cultivation world, the most troublesome."

"Dwarf Warrior - Earth-attribute spiritual root, strong physique. However, due to his short and stocky build and low center of gravity, he is not very agile in turning and footwork, and his lower body has weaknesses. If we really fight, I can make him lose his balance within three moves."

"Priest—light attribute? No, it's 'holy light'—it's not quite the same as spiritual power; it's more like some kind of 'power of faith.' I haven't fully understood this power yet; I need to observe it further."

He silently reviewed the list in his mind, but his face remained expressionless.

"Five people, each with their own distinct characteristics and roles. This is the standard configuration for a 'main character group'."

"but--"

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

"This kind of setup often has a fatal weakness: it relies too much on the 'hero.' If the hero falls, the whole team collapses."

The moment Alex stepped into the hall, the atmosphere of the entire Adventurers' Guild changed.

Everyone was watching him.

The adventurers' eyes held awe, envy, fervor, and a complex mix of emotions that were hard to define.

They whispered amongst themselves, their murmurs spreading like a tide through the hall, but no one dared to stand in his way.

Alex was clearly used to such attention. He casually waved to the crowd, a relaxed smile on his lips, and then walked straight toward the counter.

A clear female voice came from behind: "Alex, your Hero's Sword is in the way."

Mason watched as Alex's sword sheath dangled precariously in the crowd, like a stranded whale, and couldn't help but laugh.

Alex was taken aback at first, then he laughed.

He stopped, gripped the hilt of the sword with his right hand, and slowly drew the legendary sword of the hero amidst the expectant gazes of the crowd.

The moment the sword was drawn, the entire hall lit up for a split second.

Ji Tian's pupils contracted slightly.

"This is... 'Holy Light'? No—it's a materialized spiritual artifact formed from 'the power of faith'."

"The sword itself is not a magical weapon; its true power lies in the 'power of will' attached to it. Countless people's expectations for the 'hero' and their belief in 'victory' are all concentrated in this sword."

"So it doesn't harm the body, but rather the 'darkness'—because it is itself an externalization of the concept of 'light'."

He quickly analyzed the situation in his mind.

"This power is different from the 'Tao' I cultivate. It is 'seeked externally,' relying on the faith of others and the fortune of heaven and earth."

"My 'Tao' is 'inner seeking,' relying on one's own physical body, one's own consciousness, and one's own will."

"There is no distinction between high and low, but the paths we take are different."

He looked away and leaned back against the wall.

"However... if one day I were to face this sword—"

"Can my 'Daoist heart' withstand its 'willpower'?"

He had no answer.

But that is one of the reasons he came to the West.

It was a long sword that was pure white, with holy light flowing across its blade, as if it had been washed countless times by a holy spring from the heavens, without a trace of dust.

At this moment, the hexagonal holy crystal at the sword hilt was completely revived, and a dazzling light surged out like a tide, containing a holy power that was enough to purify all evil.

The blade has no edge, yet it is indestructible.

Because this sword never wounds the flesh and blood, but rather the darkness deep within people's hearts, the filth in the souls of demons.

Only those with a righteous heart and unwavering will can lift it, while any demon who touches it will be struck by lightning from the heavens and be annihilated, body and soul.

Alex raised the Hero's Sword high, his golden hair gleaming even more brilliantly in the holy light, and he laughed heartily:

"Demon King? Haha, bring it on!"

Mason laughed and slapped Alex on the shoulder.

This tap seemed to be some kind of signal.

The silence in the Adventurers' Guild hall was shattered.

I don't know who started clapping first, but then the applause spread like a flood, sweeping from one end of the hall to the other.

Whistles, cheers, and shouts mingled together, creating a deafening sound that nearly blew the roof off the entire building.

"Hero, beat the Demon King to a pulp!"

Someone shouted at the top of their lungs, their voice hoarse but full of enthusiasm.

Someone raised their glass—although drinking was forbidden in the guild hall, who cared about those rules at this moment? Several daring adventurers even jumped onto the table, waving their wine jugs and saluting the hero from afar.

Everyone wore relaxed smiles, as if victory was already theirs.

"Go, man who drew the holy sword, and prove your strength."

An aged voice came from the corner. It belonged to an old adventurer with a weathered face and a moist light in his eyes, as if he were seeing his younger self.

"If it's too hard, I'll take over."

A burly warrior carrying a giant shield patted his iron chest, his tone full of earnest, almost naive concern.

His muscles gleamed bronze in the sunlight, like a mobile fortress.

"You must win, hero!"

It was a young female adventurer who shouted, her voice so sharp it could shatter glass, piercing through all the noise and commotion, precisely drilling into the ears of everyone present.

Alex stood in the center of the crowd, looking around as his gaze swept over the faces that were cheering for him, shouting for him, and offering him their blessings.

His eyes were firm, and his lips curled into a confident, unquestionable smile.

This strongest man, favored by heaven and earth and entrusted with the hopes of all people, simply smiled and replied with three words to everyone's encouragement and blessings:

"We will win!"