The storm raged.
KUAHAAAAâ!!
The gust unleashed by the punch became a raging typhoon, tearing across the ground.
This was no ordinary wind conjured by sheer will. It was wild, feral. It seemed impossible to attribute such devastation to a mere human strike.
CRRRRKKKâ!!
The earth twisted and crumbled under its force. The scale was staggering, its impact overwhelming.
The tempest roamed unchecked, finally dissipating only when it reached the distant mountains.
Haaah...
The dust settled as the winds calmed, revealing a desolate scene.
For a brief moment, silence reignedâuntil the clearing of the dust brought clarity.
Thudâ!
A body hit the ground.
âElder! Elder, no!â
âNoooo!â
The cries of the Wudang sectâs disciples echoed in despair.
The elder of Wudang, Yu Baek, known as the Bisungum (Shining Star Sword), lay lifeless on the ground.
His body was a wreck, as though torn apart. The blood spattered around him bore no trace of hope.
Yu Baek was dead.
He had fallen, utterly defenseless, to the masked figure before themâfelled in a single blow.
One strike. Not even a proper resistance.
One of Zhongyuan's Hundred Great Masters had met his end with his eyes closed, unfulfilled.
And the masked figure who had delivered this decisive blow merely stood, gazing down at Yu Baekâs lifeless form.
For a few seconds, the figure examined the fallen elder, before muttering in a dry, brittle voice:
âHow pathetic.â
The voice was raspy, with a tone devoid of sympathy.
âThis is the swordsmanship of Wudang? How utterly disappointing.â
Disappointment was evident, an emotion he could not hide.
âTo think the sword that has flourished in Zhongyuan for so long would be so crude.â
The Wudang disciples, witnessing their elderâs tragic death, trembled with rage. Yet none could move.
Their bodies felt weighed down, as though an invisible force crushed them.
Except for one.
One person managed to move under this suffocating pressure.