As the words echoed, Sect Master Long Valen ascended into the air, his feet firmly planted on a flying sword. His overwhelming aura surged like an unfathomable ocean, the air currents around him swirling wildly, forming chaotic winds that seemed ready to obliterate anything in their path.

The sky darkened ominously, as if forewarning an impending storm. The oppressive atmosphere amplified the majestic and domineering presence of the sect master. Before the battle even began, the sheer pressure of his aura had already seized the upper hand.

From the sky, a voice rang out, dripping with arrogance:

"I am Altair Stormcrest, young master of the Golden Crow Clan. While passing through, I noticed your sect's spiritual fruit ripening. I find it quite appealing. Let’s make a deal—hand over the fruit, and the Golden Crow Clan will exchange it for items of equal value, such as spirit stones or rare treasures."

Although his words weren’t overly aggressive, they lacked any hint of respect, oozing the condescension of someone accustomed to lording over others. Altair Stormcrest’s tone carried the unmistakable arrogance of a superior being, belittling the cultivators of Skyshade Sanctum and outright dismissing Sect Master Long Valen.

He offered spirit stones as the first item of exchange, hinting that the so-called "rare treasures" and "heavenly resources" mentioned afterward might not be anything valuable. Whether the exchange would be fair or not depended entirely on his whims. His confidence stemmed from being the young master of the Golden Crow Clan, believing that even if Skyshade Sanctum had the courage of a lion, they wouldn’t dare retaliate for fear of the clan’s vengeance. He was certain they couldn’t touch him today.

Long Valen, however, was a man of immense pride, as evident from his very name, which bore the character "Valen" symbolizing loftiness. Since he began cultivating, he had always been disdainful of such insolence. How could he endure such arrogance from anyone, let alone from Altair Stormcrest?

Sizing up Altair’s cultivation level, which was about equal to his own at Nascent Soul Stage 8, Long Valen retorted sharply:

"Ridiculous! Do you know where you are? Who do you think you are to demand the treasures of my sect? Even if you offered twice, thrice, or ten times their value, I would never agree! Moreover, showing off your strength here—what do you want? War? I'll give you one chance. Leave now while you still can, or face the consequences!"

Long Valen’s tone was anything but polite. The Ten-Thousand-Year White Moon Buddha Fruit was a critical material for refining the Stabilizing Soul Pill, an elixir essential for breaking through to the Soul Formation Stage. Having reached the late Nascent Soul stage, he was on the brink of peak cultivation and nearing his breakthrough to Soul Formation. This spiritual fruit was an irreplaceable opportunity—something he could never afford to let slip away.

"You want me to leave? Hahaha! Let's see if you even have the strength to make me!" Altair Stormcrest, the three-legged golden crow, let out a booming laugh.

Down below, Eryndor was already mesmerized. "Wow, the Sect Master is so powerful and cool!" he thought. It was his first time witnessing the true strength of his Sect Master and hearing such bold and awe-inspiring words.

Moreover, seeing the majestic three-legged golden crow, Altair Stormcrest, speaking like a human amazed him. Though he'd read about such things in novels, witnessing it in real life was an entirely different experience. After all, this wasn’t just any mythical creature—it was a divine beast, comparable to dragons and qilins.

"Elder Han, activate the Sect Protection Array!"

Long Valen commanded loudly. Immediately, he soared upward on his flying sword to confront the opponent head-on. Elder Han, the Array Formation Peak Lord, wasted no time and promptly directed the sect’s formation masters to activate the Sect Protection Array. This wasn’t because Altair’s Nascent Soul late-stage power was overwhelming but rather to protect the sect’s disciples from the shockwaves of the impending battle.

Long Valen, without further delay or courtesy, launched his flying sword in a dazzling attack straight at Altair Stormcrest.

The sword lay still like a dragon hidden in the abyss, but when unleashed, it soared like a dragon taking to the skies. Surrounding it, the energy of the sword surged violently, brimming with an intent to dominate and destroy. Wherever the sword passed, light refracted, leaving a faint streak of brilliance in its wake—a dreamlike, flowing glow. The attack was relentless, its speed like thunder, showing no signs of mercy.

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A sharp "Kiiiiiiiiiiii!" rang out as Altair Stormcrest narrowed his eyes with a serious expression. Letting out a piercing cry, he concentrated his spiritual energy into his three claws. The claws gleamed brilliantly, expanding in size, and in the sky appeared three radiant spiritual talons formed from highly condensed energy. The surface of the talons shimmered with scorching heat, further emphasizing the Golden Crow's reputation as a beast representing the sun.

The flying sword collided with the blazing talons, producing a sharp and grating sound that echoed through the sky.

Though the initial strike didn’t land, the sword didn’t pause. Instead, it shifted angles repeatedly, striking from unpredictable directions. Altair’s spiritual talons were forced to rotate defensively, each claw working to deflect the relentless onslaught. Long Valen’s mastery of swordsmanship became evident—facing off against three talons, he maintained the upper hand, turning defense into offense with unparalleled skill.

"Split Sword Technique!"

Long Valen's calm but forceful voice cut through the air. The single flying sword, locked in a clash with Altair Stormcrest's three fiery talons, suddenly withdrew slightly. In a flash, it split into three identical swords, each bearing the same form and aura, indistinguishable from one another.

"Go!" With a wave of his sleeve, Long Valen directed the three swords, sending them hurtling toward Altair in three different trajectories.

Altair’s heart sank slightly. While splitting the sword diminished the power of each individual blade, even a single one had been a challenge to handle. Now, faced with three simultaneously, he knew the battle had taken a difficult turn.

The three swords advanced swiftly, one clashing head-on with the central talon to neutralize it, while the other two flanked Altair on either side. The sudden shift in strategy left him no choice but to shift into a more defensive stance. Channeling his spiritual energy into his two wings, Altair used them to parry the flanking strikes, but the relentless assault forced him into a tight spot. Each blow left him scrambling to block and deflect, revealing the cracks in his once-unshakable composure.

Long Valen's crafty swordplay had brought him several times to the brink of breaking through Altair Stormcrest's defense, only for the nimble three-legged golden crow to narrowly repel the sword in critical moments and stabilize the situation.

Long Valen smirked and said, "That was just a warm-up. Now, let's truly begin! Brace yourself!"

In battles between masters, there was always a phase of probing and testing. Each fighter would gauge their opponent's depth, strengths, and weaknesses before committing to an all-out strategy. Charging in with ultimate moves from the start carried significant risk; after all, most cultivators had their own life-saving techniques. True finishing techniques were reserved for decisive moments, ensuring they would land when it mattered most.

"Deadly Thunder Annihilation Sword Technique—Nine Thunder Tempest Dance!"

As Long Valen declared his technique, he unleashed a surge of spiritual energy. His aura erupted like a volcanic inferno, flooding the battlefield with overwhelming pressure. The flying sword in his command radiated a blinding brilliance, and the skies above grew dark with heavy storm clouds. Thunder rumbled and lightning crackled across the heavens. At Long Valen's level of mastery, his techniques could influence the environment itself, drawing upon the might of heaven and earth to fuel his power.

With a sharp cry, the sword streaked toward Altair like a bolt of divine lightning, splitting the storm-laden sky with its dazzling might.

The three swords, imbued with a fresh surge of spiritual energy, flared with dazzling brilliance. From one, they had split into three, and now from three, they multiplied into nine. Each blade was enveloped in crackling thunderous energy, streaking toward Altair Stormcrest from all directions with the speed and ferocity of celestial lightning.

Altair Stormcrest, however, was not one to falter. Gathering his fiery spiritual energy, he unleashed an inferno that seemed to scorch the very heavens.

With a sharp cry, Altair let out a resonating roar: "Phantom Eighteen Claws!"

The swords surged forth like bolts of lightning, while Altair's claws struck out with blinding speed, as swift and elusive as flashing shadows. In an instant, they collided more than a hundred times, each clash ringing out with the sharp sound of weapons meeting, a cacophony of power reverberating across the battlefield.

Jin Eryndor stood in awe, completely captivated. It was his first time witnessing the might of his sect master in action, and the sheer power displayed shattered his previous perceptions of what cultivators were capable of. Each strike, each technique, was an eye-opener, broadening his understanding of the cultivation world.

"This… this is incredible," he thought, his admiration growing by leaps and bounds. "One day, I, Jin Eryndor, will become this strong—no, even stronger! I will ascend to the very peak of this cultivation world!"

Meanwhile, his eyes couldn't keep up with Altair Stormcrest's flurry of claw strikes. All he could perceive was the fiery figure in the sky, spinning and countering attacks from every direction with dazzling precision.

Though the exchange seemed to last an eternity, it all happened in mere moments. Within the blink of an eye, the two combatants had exchanged hundreds of blows. Initially, Altair Stormcrest managed to fend off Long Valen's strikes adeptly, but as the battle wore on, cracks began to show in his defense. Occasionally, the swords broke through, grazing his form.

As a beast of immense power, Altair's physical body was near invulnerable. The swords couldn't cut deeply into his tough hide, but the embedded lightning energy coursed through him, leaving his limbs slightly numb. It was clear he despised lightning—his grimace revealed as much.

"Enough of this one-sided suppression!" Altair thought, anger boiling within him. He clenched his resolve and began to seek opportunities for a counterattack. Shifting from pure defense to offense, he decided to turn the tables.