Apollo's expression was serious; individually they weren't that strong for him, but combined they beca troubleso, especially the ghost-like transcendent who seed to have weird illusion mind tricks up his sleeve.
Even with his strong mind and soul, he was pulled into those illusions; if it weren't for his eternal sword rule, he would have lost the battle in just the beginning.
It was clear that the ghostly Abyssal Transcendent had reached the peak of the First Order and was even approaching the Second Order. Otherwise, Apollo would never have been forced into such a precarious situation.
His illusions were bizarre and profound—so much so that even so second-order transcendents would find them difficult to deal with. And alongside him stood two more Abyssal Transcendents. Though less troubleso individually, they were still powerful First-Order beings, making the combined pressure truly formidable.
"Tch, it appeared you abyssal transcendents are nothing special that you needed to gang up on a weak eternal god like ." Apollo said mockingly, looking at the three.
"Brat, don't get cocky," the ghostly Transcendent replied, his eerie, emotionless voice ringing out like a cold decree. "You're rely lucky—blessed with a bit of talent. It would be better for you to die quietly, without pain or despair. In the end, the Empyrean Sword Realm—and you swordsn—will be annihilated anyway."
He didn't care about honour or pride, as after this exchange he knew from the depth of his heart they had to kill this boy no matter what; otherwise, he might truly beco sovereign in the future.
"Enough talk; let's kill." As he said that, the other two abyssal transcendents nodded, and their aura started to climb.
Apollo also beca alert, and his aura also changed; the void around him trembled and then shattered, turning into ten thousand mirrors holding different spaces within them.
Within every mirror stood an image of Apollo. Each was identical. Each carried the exact sa aura.
For the first ti, the expressions of the three Abyssal Transcendents changed.
They were powerful—but unfortunately for them, none specialised in the Space Rule. Though they had each reached the first layer of spatial comprehension, as most Transcendents did, it was nowhere near sufficient for the situation before them.
All of them almost seem to have forgotten that in addition to the mysterious sword rule, he also seed to have reached the fourth layer of space rule.
The space rule, which can be said to be one of the greatest rules in the universe, with its unparalleled ability to save their lives. Unless they can seal the space, it is almost impossible to kill a transcendent who majors in space rule.
"Tch, slippery brat," the ghostly Transcendent muttered, annoyance flickering through his voice—though his expression remained calm.
"You think it's that easy? Then let's see how you face this."
"Corruption Mind Domain".
As he roared, his aura turned unfathomable. His form seed to dissolve into dust, vanishing completely. In the next instant, a mysterious pressure spread across hundreds of miles, black mist flooding the area and transforming it into an eerie, corrupted domain.
The space seed to be locked within the mist, and powerful ntal suppression seed to affect Apollo.
Apollo felt his spiritual sense suppressed due to the black mist making it difficult to see or locate the three abyssal transcendents.
Then, without warning, attacks struck from multiple directions at once.
Boom! Bang! Boom! Bang!
Clang—!
Like fragile glass, the spatial mirror images shattered one after another, destroyed under the relentless assaults of the three Transcendents.
Yet Apollo was no ordinary cultivator.
He forced himself to calm down. In the next instant, his Eternal Sword Rule surged forth—sothing that could not be suppressed by this strange black mist. Sword intent radiated outward like vast cosmic waves, cutting through confusion and stabilising his mind as the battlefield trembled once more.
His eternal sword rule wasn't like any other rule; it could practically cut anything, whether it was tangible, an illusion or any kind of spiritual form. In front of his sword rule, it was nothing.
Instead of a single sword beam attack, he sent off waves of his sword rule through it; it was weaker than a single attack, but it was a perfect counter for attacking groups or counter domains like power.
The sword waves surged outward relentlessly.
They collided with the black mist, which writhed like maggots as it tried to corrode and suppress everything within its domain—only to et an unstoppable force.
Space shattered under the impact.
Within the collapsing domain, the three Transcendents were struck by violent shockwaves that breached their defences and hurled them backward. Pain tore through them as though their bodies were sliced thousands of tis over.
Even the ghostly Transcendent—whose form was largely spiritual—scread silently as his spirit was pierced by countless invisible needles.
The Corruption Mind Domain instantly began to collapse as the ghostly transcendent lost his concentration.
Apollo didn't miss this chance; his eternal sword rule exploded, and he urged it to the fullest capacity his body could bear and slashed three clean strikes in three different directions.
Ssss— Ssss— Ssss—
The three invisible slashes cut through everything in their path; nothing can stop them.
The expressions of the three Transcendents changed drastically. Still reeling from the earlier sword waves, their movents were sluggish—just slow enough to be fatal.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
"Aaah—!"
"No—!"
"Dodge this!"
They shouted in panic, desperately trying to evade.
But they were still too late.
Boom!
The three strikes landed on three of them respectively, creating a space storm mixed with black mist which seems to be split apart by a sword.
From outside the situation wasn't fully clear; the black mist covered hundreds of miles. Only the echoes of explosions could be heard.
Many still kept their eyes fixed on that area, waiting for the result. Yet most of the battlefield's attention had already shifted elsewhere—to the Supre-level battles raging across fractured layers of space.
But the Supres themselves understood the truth.
Their clashes were nothing more than a prelude. The true outco of this war will be decided by the battle between the Sovereigns.
Because of that, even as they fought with all their might, a portion of their senses remained anchored deep within the void—a realm perceivable only to beings of Supre level and above—where the Sovereigns were already engaged in battles that would determine the fate of the Empyrean Sword realm.
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