The air was thick with tension as Hope faced the Duskwalker, the beast's eerie amber eyes locked onto him with a predatory gaze.

The arena they stood in was vast, with the stone floor cracked and weathered, an echo of ancient battles. A silent challenge loomed in the space between them, the Duskwalker’s movements fluid, its sleek body a shadow in motion. Hope’s heart pounded in his chest, his grip tightening around the low-mortal grade sword—the very same blade he had carried for some time, now a mockery of the power he had attained in terms of cultivation.

The Duskwalker was a creature of nightmare. Its dark, sleek fur seemed to melt into the shadows, blending so seamlessly that Hope could barely track its movements. A low growl emanated from the beast, sending a chill down his spine as it crouched, preparing to launch itself at him.

Hope took a deep breath.

His body was stronger now, the Path of Eternal Flesh having reshaped him beyond the limits of any normal human. His cultivation had reached the peak of Eternal Iron Root, and with his destruction intent lingering at the edge of his soul, he felt almost invincible.

Still, there was no denying that the Duskwalker was a different kind of beast. Its physical power, honed over countless generations, made it far superior to a cultivator of the same realm. The ferocity of its instincts, its attunement to nature—it was something a mere cultivator could not match in raw strength.

But Hope wasn’t just any cultivator. His QI, tinted with a faint purple hue, was proof of the power of his destruction intent. His physical body had been reforged into something unimaginable, something far beyond what most cultivators of his level could comprehend. But still, standing before him now, the beast’s power made him question if he could truly handle it.

The Duskwalker lunged first.

It was impossibly fast, its body blurring as it crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Hope barely had time to react, his instincts screaming at him to move. The sword in his hand slashed out, but the Duskwalker was already there, its claws outstretched to tear through his defenses. With a savage swipe, one of its claws raked across his chest, drawing blood in a line that stretched from his shoulder to his side.

The pain was instant, blinding, but Hope didn’t falter. He stepped back, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to focus. The low-mortal grade sword in his hand felt like a child's toy against the sheer force of the Duskwalker. His opponent wasn’t just an animal—it was a beast shaped by the very will of nature itself, honed for nothing but destruction.

Hope tried again, this time focusing his strength into the sword.

The blade shimmered slightly, but the Duskwalker dodged with a terrifying agility. It was everywhere at once—its body a dark blur, its claws lashing out, each swipe a death sentence. He managed to block one attack, but the force of the blow rattled him, throwing him off balance. The sword nearly slipped from his hands, his wrist aching from the impact.

Then, the beast struck again.

This time, the Duskwalker was too fast. Its claws slashed through his side, the momentum of the strike knocking Hope backward. He barely managed to right himself before the beast was on him again, leaping toward his throat.

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In that instant, Hope felt the cold grip of fear wash over him. He could hear the snapping of bones as the Duskwalker’s jaws closed on empty air just inches from his neck.

Hope’s heart thundered in his chest, and the world seemed to slow.

His body was screaming in pain, his muscles burning, his Qi surging erratically. His vision blurred at the edges. The sword in his hands was useless against the beast’s ferocity. Each time he tried to strike, it dodged, its movements so precise that Hope could hardly keep up. He was being toyed with.

The Duskwalker was playing with him.

His right arm was already hanging limp by his side, nearly torn from its socket. The pain was unbearable, and Hope stumbled back, feeling his strength draining away with each passing second. His body was breaking, his blood soaking through his robes, but he refused to give in.

He couldn’t lose. Not like this.

The beast, sensing his weakness, pressed the attack. Hope tried to lift his sword once more, but the Duskwalker was faster. It darted forward, and before Hope could react, it struck. A brutal, bone-crushing blow landed on his left shoulder, nearly tearing it from its socket. The pain was so intense that it nearly sent him to the ground, but Hope gritted his teeth, fighting to stay conscious.

He was barely holding on, but in that moment, something deep within him stirred. The destruction intent—the very force that had given him his power—rose from within him, an instinctive surge that he could no longer control. The purple tint in his Qi flared brighter, flooding his senses with an unnatural heat.

In that instant, he knew he had no other choice.

Hope’s body surged with power as the destruction intent fully activated. His surroundings seemed to warp, the very air around him thickening with energy as the world itself bent under the weight of his fury. He roared, the sound a mix of pain and defiance, as his destruction intent poured out in a wave of annihilation.

The Duskwalker, sensing the sudden shift in Hope’s aura, hesitated for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t enough. Hope lunged, his broken body moving with a speed and ferocity it never had before . His sword—now glowing with the faintest hint of destruction—sliced through the air. The Duskwalker tried to react, but it was too slow.

Hope’s blade plunged into the beast’s side with a sickening crunch, cutting through fur and flesh like paper. The Duskwalker let out a terrifying, guttural scream as it staggered back, the wound oozing dark blood. Hope didn’t give it a chance to recover. His sword cleaved downward, carving through the beast’s thick hide and into its heart.

The power of his destruction intent surged through the blade, and the Duskwalker’s body convulsed as it began to disintegrate from the inside out. Hope could feel it—the energy of his attack shattering the very essence of the beast, breaking apart its existence at a molecular level.

The Duskwalker collapsed to the ground with a final, desperate screech. Its body began to crumble, turning to dust before Hope’s eyes, leaving only a pile of ash where it once stood. Hope, breathing heavily, staggered back, his sword disintegrating as well. It couldn’t resist the destruction intent.

He collapsed to his knees, the exhaustion overwhelming him. His body felt as though it had been shattered, every part of him aching, burning with the aftermath of using such devastating power. His arm dangled uselessly at his side, and his chest was riddled with wounds, but despite it all—he was alive.

The pain was unbearable, but Hope’s mind remained sharp. He could feel his Qi still swirling within him, though it had been strained to its limits. His bloodline had unlocked before the fight, reaching the Heaven grade just in time. Had it not been for that sudden breakthrough, he would have been dead, torn apart by the Duskwalker's sheer physical might.

Hope looked down at his bloodied hands, his heart pounding in his chest. The world around him seemed to spin as he fought to stay conscious. His body was on the brink of collapse, but he had done it.

He survived.