Chapter 279: A Hand to Slay a Sword Immortal

The atmosphere congealed, a palpable tension hanging heavy in the air. The Sword Immortal, renowned for his celestial grace and peerless swordsmanship, stood poised, his aura shimmering like a thousand stars. Yet, across from him stood a figure radiating an unsettling calm, an indifference that belied the impending storm.

The Sword Immortal inhaled deeply, his gaze sharp as a honed blade. “To think,” he mused, his voice carrying the weight of centuries, “that someone of such…base cultivation would dare to obstruct the Heavenly Path. You are a fool, courting annihilation.”

The figure remained unmoved. “The Heavenly Path,” he echoed, a hint of disdain coloring his tone. “A path paved with the ambitions of self-proclaimed deities and the sacrifices of the innocent. If that is the Heavenly Path, then I choose to stand against it.”

A blinding light erupted from the Sword Immortal’s blade. The air crackled with energy, the very fabric of space seeming to distort under the pressure. “Insolence!” he roared, his sword a silver streak aimed directly at the figure’s heart.

But before the celestial blade could even graze its intended target, a hand, seemingly ordinary, reached out and intercepted it. Not with a flash of spiritual energy, nor with a clang of clashing steel, but with a gentle, almost casual grasp.

The Sword Immortal’s eyes widened in disbelief. His legendary sword, capable of cleaving mountains and shattering stars, was held motionless, its radiant light fading under the stranger’s grip. He poured more of his essence into the blade, attempting to force it forward, but it was as if he were trying to move a celestial mountain.

“This is the power you boast of?” the figure inquired, his voice devoid of emotion. “Truly pathetic.”

With a slight increase in pressure, the hand crushed the celestial sword. Not with a thunderous explosion, but with a quiet, almost mournful sound. The shattered fragments, once imbued with divine energy, fell to the ground like discarded glass.

The Sword Immortal staggered back, his face pale with shock and horror. He had witnessed the impossible. His weapon, his pride, his very foundation, had been utterly destroyed.

Before he could utter a single word, the figure’s hand shot out again, faster than lightning, and gripped the Sword Immortal’s throat. There was no struggle, no resistance. The light in the Sword Immortal’s eyes flickered and died, his body falling limply to the ground.

Silence descended once more, heavier and more profound than before. The figure stood amidst the wreckage, his expression unchanged. He had casually slain a Sword Immortal, a being revered by all, with a mere flick of his wrist. The Heavenly Path, it seemed, had just encountered a formidable obstacle.