Apollo’s eternal sword aura continued to climb higher without showing any sign of slowing down, and just in a minute, it reached the peak of perfection.
99%
It was just a hint away from the mysterious level of sword rule. But it seed it t with a difficulty as sothing seems to be missing.
The bridge between aura and rule—that final veil separating him from stepping into the mysterious level of sword rule—refused to break.
However, unlike others who would grow frustrated or desperate, Apollo was different. Instead of trying to force his way through, he let go.
He allowed his Eternal Sword Aura to fully rge with the surrounding sword field, like a drop of water falling into a boundless ocean of swords.
And then, sothing bizarre happened.
All the sword auras lingering on the lower steps—the traces left behind by countless swordsn over the ages—began trembling uncontrollably, as if summoned by a higher existence.
The swords strapped to the backs and waists of other trialists shook violently, so even being forcibly unsheathed against their owners’ will.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The eternal sword aura still remained at 99%, yet it still continued to be strength every second.
The trembling aura condensed even further, shrinking in size but gaining terrifying density. It felt as though Apollo’s aura had beco a sword-shaped black hole, capable of swallowing any sword aura that ca too close.
The air grew thin. Even breathing beca difficult for those nearby. The swordsn on the lower steps instinctively moved back, sensing sothing far beyond their understanding unfolding in front of them.
"What... what the hell is this?"
"How can sword aura alone reach this level?"
They all started to talk, but Apollo remained indifferent and continued to strengthen his sword aura until he felt all the inspiration and what he comprehended could not strengthen his sword aura.
The mont he stopped, everything returned to normal, but the crowd of swordsn at the lower steps couldn’t help but feel shocked as they firsthand felt the eternal sword aura.
That feeling was mysterious and unforgettable for all of them, as they had never felt sothing like this before.
"What was missing?"
On the other side, he opened his eyes and narrowed it slightly. As it seems, the barrier between sword aura and sword rule was more difficult and larger than he expected. It wasn’t a thin film waiting to be pierced, but a vast chasm, a deep gulf separating ordinary swordsn from true sword kings.
Everything returned to calm, but the other swordsn on the lower steps around didn’t even dare to look towards him, fearing he would notice them. They clearly felt the difference, which was insurmountable.
It wasn’t just strength.
It was the kind of difference that made them feel like insects standing beside a sleeping dragon.
His Eternal Sword Aura stood at the absolute peak of perfection—99%—and though he didn’t step into sword rule yet, his foundation had been forged to an unshakeable level.
Apollo didn’t care about others behaviours; his first breakthrough is complete, and now he can continue to move forward. And then he slowly started to move upwards.
Without wasting any ti, he lifted his foot and stepped onto the next step.
There was no pause. No hesitation.
He moved forward calmly, as if none of this mattered.
Step by step, he climbed.
Behind him, those who remained on the lower steps watched in stunned silence, unsure whether they were witnessing the rise of a future sword god or the awakening of sothing even more terrifying.
He followed the similar pattern; he climbed and remained stationed at that step for so ti and moved on. This didn’t change at all, and he steadily crossed the fortieth step without feeling any problem.
The Celestial Sword Monolith had a total of 999 steps, and it is said if soone reached the top, he or she would beco the master of the Celestial Sword Monolith, but for millions of years, nobody even crossed the nine hundredth step, not to ntion reaching the top.
So, it is only considered a legend, and no one knows what will happen if sobody reaches the top.
He, with that in mind, calmly moves forward. The more he climbed, the more he felt the boundless mysteries of swordsmanship and this place. He couldn’t help but think how terrifying the Celestial Sword Monolith is if it was really just a sword.
Not to ntion the strength of the owner of such a sword. Maybe he would be the sa level as the Black Fla sovereign or Abyss lord he t in the past tiline.
Two days passed.
Apollo’s pace never faltered.
And now, he stood at the 100th step.
This was considered the first major checkpoint, a threshold that separated the ordinary from the extraordinary. Only true geniuses of the True Gods realm could step here without being crushed by the weight of the sword laws.
For most swordsn, this step alone would be the pinnacle of their lifeti.
Apollo, however?
He stood there casually, as if it were nothing more than a slightly steeper hill.
The sword aura around him was already terrifyingly refined, sharper than almost any other swordsman present—but it still wasn’t enough.
He closed his eyes, ignoring the murmurs and shocked glances from others watching him, and quietly absorbed the mysteries sealed within the 100th step.
If the first ninety-nine steps were foundational, this was the point where the true journey began.
Apollo seed to not feel anything terrifying here; in fact, it was as if it was the opposite. He instead felt comfortable, and the eternal sword aura also seed to feel the sa.
He stayed in the hundredth step for over an hour, clearly showing the mysteries hidden in it were many tis more than in the lower steps. But the ti wasn’t wasted, as he seems to have found sothing but at the sa ti not.
He not only deepened his understanding, but he also created the next sword move for his sword technique. This sword move was an accomplishnt of what he learnt after he ca here and learnt from the hundred steps.
He nad it ’Eclipsing Void Slash.’.
This sword move carries such profound sharpness and vastness that it can overshadow everything in its path, like an eclipse swallowing the sun.
Not only that, after all this, he seed to have found directions, and now he was sure he should be able to understand sword rules after he climbed higher and experienced more mysteries of swords here.
However, the view from the 101st step seed to have changed a bit, as if you now wanted to step up to the next step, you needed to defeat the sword shadow of ancient swordsn.
Each challenger was given only three chances to defeat the sword shadow. If they failed all three, their journey would co to a permanent halt, forever anchored to this step. This trial marked the first true turning point for every swordsman who dread of reaching the peak.
It separated the passers-by from the true inheritors of the sword.
Apollo saw quite a large number of swordsn still staying on this step.
So sat cross-legged in silence, ditating and recovering, their expressions a mix of frustration and unwillingness.
These were the ones who had already challenged the ancient sword shadow—and lost their first chance.
Others stood in quiet anticipation, their hands resting on their sword hilts, eyes locked forward. These were the fresh arrivals, swordsn like Apollo, who had just reached this step and were preparing to face their first true opponent on the path to the peak.
The air here was thick with tension, a strange pressure hanging over the step like a storm cloud ready to break.
Apollo’s gaze was calm, unfazed by the tense atmosphere. Without wasting a word or a breath, he stepped forward, ready to challenge ancient sword shadow.
The mont Apollo tried to step on the 102nd step, the air around him shifted—as if the world itself exhaled.
A deep, tallic hum echoed through the step, followed by the sound of a sword being unsheathed from the void itself.
Before him, the air rippled like disturbed water, and from within that ripple a figure slowly erged—a sword shadow, forged not of flesh and blood, but pure sword rule and lingering will.
The ancient swordsman stood tall and lean, his form cloaked in flickering silver mist, like his body itself was a half-ford mory struggling to remain solid. His face was blurred, features indistinct, but his eyes were sharp, radiating the terrifying pressure of soone who had once stood at the top of the world.
He held a sword that was simple and unadorned, yet it carried a presence so sharp that even a casual glance made the skin prickle. It wasn’t just a weapon—it was the manifestation of the ancient swordsman’s entire life, his victories, defeats, obsessions, and regrets, all condensed into that single sword.
Apollo and the ancient swordsman, Shadow, glanced at each other for a second, and instantly both of them drew their swords.
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