Opening his eyes, the youth found himself on the shore of an island, with total destruction around him.

Holding his head, he slowly sat up, before examining his surroundings, his eyes taking in everything they could.

Trying to suppress his slight headache, he decided that he had somehow arrived at Jade Island after so many accidents.

"Huh," he made a sound, as he felt all over his body, which was covered by tattered grey robes.

One would have thought that with his condition, he would be in a grim mood. Instead, he burst out laughing like a madman.

"Yes! Finally, I've reached the limit of the Body Refinement Realm," he said out loud, with a grin on his face that looked as though it might split his lips.

His thoughts raced in excitement: I guess through all these disasters I've gone through and survived, I've become stronger. The attacks from the Battle Force Sect and the Nine Transformation Demonic Sect, our ship being destroyed by an expert, and even that grueling escape...

"This time around," he said out loud with a smirk on his face, "I guess I am compatible with that mysterious secret technique I found. I can now truly grow strong."

As if mentally unstable, the youth laughed for a long time before making his way out of the destroyed area - by now, his wounds had clearly healed in some unknown way.

As he walked through the ruined land, seeing scorch marks covering the ground, trees sliced clean through, and the obvious traces of a fierce battle, he couldn't help but wonder: Who fought here? And why am I the only one on this shore? There isn't a single survivor in sight...

Unless they all managed to escape already... Maybe Senior Li Han and the other elders made it out, or even that strange participant - Icaros. He was surprisingly strong, after all. But if they survived, why didn't they come looking for me?

Unable to find any answer, he stopped thinking to avoid a splitting headache, and only came to one conclusion: The expert who destroyed their ship was most likely responsible for all the destruction around.

After two hours of searching for any sign of people on the island, and with only an hour left before sunset, the youth finally spotted traces of human activity. He moved faster - his stomach had begun to rumble loudly, and he was desperate to find both people and food.

He followed the tracks until, sure enough, he came upon the legendary mortal village - said to exist deep within one of the world's most dangerous zones.

It was nothing grand, not what one would have expected after surviving the deadly dangers of Jade Island.

It looked almost like a ghost town, with no proper entrance.

Except for one single spot - the only place in the entire town where there were people. A small group of adults and children were gathered together there, seemingly busy with something or about to set off somewhere. Apart from them, the whole settlement was empty. The town felt strangely silent and eerie.

From a distance, the youth spotted the group near the buildings. At first, his expression showed shock - but it quickly turned into disdainful laughter.

It turned out that among them were seven adults, two of them women. Before he knew it, they had surrounded him, all aiming high-powered long rifles straight at him.

"Who are you? You are not from this village," one of the adults asked, his face showing clear intent to shoot at any moment.

The youth just grinned and tightened his fists, clearly intending to take them all on.

"Identify yourself, or we will shoot," another said - his voice sounded a little nervous, but his aim never wavered.

The youth replied casually, "Drop your so-called guns, and then we can talk."

The group couldn't help but hesitate - but they soon overcame that hesitation, as if something was making them act with extreme caution and urgency.

The youth clenched his fists tighter, bent his knees, ready to explode into motion, a predatory grin spreading across his lips. Meanwhile, the men surrounding him were clearly experienced fighters; they stayed sharp and alert, ready to strike at his vital spots the moment he moved.

The atmosphere was tense, and just as the group was about to open fire, an aged, calm voice cut through the silence.

"Hold your fire!"

The youth looked toward the voice and saw a fairly old man who had just come out from among the group.

The trained and experienced men did not take their eyes off the youth; they slowly stepped back, keeping their weapons aimed steadily at him.

The aged man walked steadily and carefully to stand between them. Looking straight at the youth, he said, "I guess you're a cultivator from the outside world."

"Not that dumb," the youth replied bluntly, relaxing his stance just slightly. Seeing this, the men slowly lowered their guns.

"I don't know how you got here," the aged man continued, trying to propose something, but the youth cut him off before he could finish.

"I managed fine on my own," the youth said, clearly unwilling to reveal anything to the old man.

Unfazed, the aged man replied with a smirk, "No matter how strong you are, we will find out everything soon enough. It doesn't matter - what matters is that you need our information and cooperation to achieve whatever goal you have here, and we need your power."

The youth stayed silent for a few seconds, as if thinking it through, before shrugging and saying, "I guess I will agree - but not without first testing these weapons that mortals hold in such high regard."

With that, and without any warning, the youth dashed forward at incredible speed, closing in on the nearest man. Before the man could even adjust his aim or fire, the youth had already grabbed his rifle.

The others reacted instantly and tried to shoot, but the youth was already one step ahead - he pulled the man in front of him as a human shield, making the others hesitate, afraid to shoot and kill their own companion.

"Interesting," the youth thought, before gripping the rifle and bending it completely out of shape with his bare hands.

The man struggled and fought back, but against the youth's strength, it was completely useless. Not wasting any time, the youth slammed his forehead hard into the man's, knocking him unconscious instantly.

Still moving fast, the youth effortlessly threw the unconscious man straight at another shooter. The man had to jump aside to avoid being hit, and in doing so, missed his chance to fire. That split second was all the youth needed - he charged forward at extraordinary speed, keeping right behind the flying body.

The other shooters dared not fire, terrified of hitting their own man.

He was almost upon his next target when the man finally managed to aim and shoot, panic written clearly across his face.

But the youth had already predicted his movement. He weaved smoothly under the bullets and closed the short distance in the blink of an eye. At the same time, he grabbed the rifle and shoved it hard toward the others to scare them off.

It worked - they hurriedly scrambled for cover. With a light, quick punch, he knocked that man out cold.

Without pausing, he turned toward the rest of the group, his feet moving swiftly and lightly, eyes locked firmly on his targets.

The man he was after saw that his companions were slow to give him cover, and tried to defend himself by firing wildly at the youth. But the youth dodged every shot - partly by his speed, partly by predicting his opponent's movements - while closing in fast.

His feet moved gracefully, his body ready to strike - but just halfway to his target, most of the shooters had regained their composure and opened fire all at once.

Suddenly, the youth was overwhelmed; no matter how agile he was, he could not match the speed of bullets.

He was soon completely surrounded by concentrated gunfire, and thick smoke obscured his figure.

When the shooting finally stopped, the shooters waited to see the result - but a cold chill ran down their spines as the youth, who they expected to be riddled with holes, suddenly burst out laughing loudly.

They looked closely: his already tattered robes were even more torn, soaked through with his own blood, and dotted with the metallic shine of bullets stuck fast in his skin.

Laughing like a madman, the youth reached up and pulled out one of the bullets, which was covered in blood. From the torn skin around it, it was clear the bullet had pierced the surface, but had been unable to go any deeper.

"Today I will teach you mortals the true terrors of facing a cultivator!" he snarled, baring his bloodied teeth at the terrified group - but just as he was about to attack again...

A sharp whirring sound cut through the air. Before he could even react, the rocket hit him directly, and a massive explosion slammed him straight into the wall of a nearby building, burying him in smoke and debris.

The shooters quickly turned toward the source of the blast - and there he was: the aged man, now standing on the roof, holding an RPG launcher that was still smoking from the barrel, a smirk on his face.

"Captain!" they all acknowledged him in unison.

The aged man jumped down from the roof and walked toward where the youth was embedded in the wall.

When he reached him, most of the youth's skin was badly burnt and stained red with blood from his injuries.

His eyes no longer held their usual sharpness and vitality - it was clear the RPG had significantly damaged him.

"Oh, you're right - mortals aren't a match for cultivators, but we can still put up a fight against Body Refinement Realm cultivators like you," the man said, as he examined the youth's condition.

He continued as he began pulling the youth's bloodied body free from the wall: "I hope you can now see reason and agree to work with us once you've recovered."

The youth struggled to stand, but his legs gave way and he collapsed to the ground. Gritting his teeth and holding back the pain, he managed to keep a satisfied grin on his face as he replied:

"I guess your weapons do live up to the hype."

Icaros' flying figure tore through the space of the quiet island.

He stopped for a moment, his eyes mechanical and cold, as he scanned around with utmost focus.

Every detail zoomed in; everything was seen with clarity. Sure enough, he thought as he sighted it.

A mountain on the island, just like other jade ones around - but Icaros was not easily fooled.

Not even second-guessing, his figure shot forward, his arms outstretched in a flying motion.

Instead of him smashing into an actual mountain, as soon as his arm touched it, the rock transformed into a transparent light screen. But the force of Icaros' flight, combined with his insane strength and durability, tore through the light screen like paper, and with that, it faded away.

Stopping with a grin on his face, Icaros didn't need to look around, for his target was right ahead.

It was exactly where Icaros was looking, and where the light screen had been disguising the truth.

A man dressed as a swordsman sat in meditation in front of a newly built cottage, with three others surrounding it.

A sword was placed across his crossed legs, and his eyes were lightly closed. With blooming flowers scattered all around, it truly made for a tranquil scene.

Icaros was not the least bit affected by the so-called tranquility. He said coldly, "Come on, don't bullshit me with this monk stuff or whatever it is."

The man opened his eyes in reply, his voice flat and emotionless. "I am no monk, or whatever you think I am. I am..."

"A swordsman of the Heavenly Sword Sect," Icaros interrupted with a wicked grin.

While they were conversing, three youths made their way out of the other three cottages. They were clearly swordsmen, with swords strapped to their backs.

"I don't care who you are - you are indeed the one that destroyed our ship," Icaros continued, his eyes glowing faintly golden-yellow. "And you will pay for what you did."

By now, the three youths had gathered beside the man.

One of them, who emitted an aura of sharpness, spoke to the man with respect in his voice. "He doesn't seem like a cultivator. Should I dispose of him, Master?"

The man waved his hand before replying. "He is indeed strange - able to fly without being a cultivator. However, he is far too strong for you. I will deal with this myself."

While this exchange was going on, Icaros stared down at them, his eyes cold, although the glow had faded for the moment.

The man, clearly unwilling to let Icaros hold the upper position, tapped his foot and rose into the air without any external help, his sword now strapped to his back in its sheath.

He stopped when he reached the same height as Icaros, while his disciples watched with awe in their eyes.

Addressing Icaros, he said, "I do not know how you gained such power without walking the path of cultivation, but you could have simply enjoyed it in comfort. Instead, you have chosen death."

Icaros chuckled darkly. "You chose death too, the moment you destroyed our ship."

"I did what I had to do - for my own interests and for the good of my sect," the man replied, a hint of anger in his tone, though he quickly steadied himself and continued in a calm voice. "I could still allow you to live here. But if you insist on this meaningless quest, your only outcome will be death."

Icaros did not back down. "I made my choice when you made yours. But tell me... have you truly accepted yours?"

The man was now clearly agitated, and he spoke with rising anger. "You may possess some strange power, but I am an Extinction Realm cultivator - one who has shed mortal flaws and been reborn."

As if coming to a final decision, the man calmed himself and said, "It is a pity. You could have been useful."

"A pity indeed," Icaros replied with an evil smirk. And just when even the man's disciples least expected it -

Icaros unleashed his golden-yellow lasers directly at the man - an intense, continuous, unbroken beam, pouring steadily from his eyes.

Even the disciples could not help but gasp in shock. But their master lived up to his title; the instant the beam appeared, his sword was already drawn.

He turned the flat of his blade toward the light, positioning it perfectly to block as the intense golden-yellow stream struck directly against the metal. In that moment, his arm muscles bulged and his core tightened to withstand the force - yet even so, he was caught off guard. His body was sent flying backward, smashing hard into a jade mountain just beyond the cottage, and was buried beneath the rubble.

The disciples stood frozen, their jaws practically hitting the floor.

Icaros hovered there, an evil grin on his face and his eyes still blazing bright golden-yellow. He spoke in a cold, merciless tone: "Your turn."

Before the lead disciple - the one who had asked to deal with Icaros earlier - could even react, the beam shifted slightly. It pierced straight through his forehead, penetrating his skull and obliterating his brain. He was killed instantly.

The remaining two disciples felt a bone-chilling cold run down their spines. They drew their swords and stood ready, eyes fixed on Icaros. With his eyes glowing so fiercely, he looked less like a man and more like the god of death itself.

Just as they braced for the inevitable death to come, a voice rang out from the ruins - filled with grief, and burning rage.

"YOU HAVE CHOSEN... DEATH!!"

With a thunderous boom, the section of the jade mountain where the man had been buried exploded into countless pieces. The swordsman appeared amidst the debris in an instant, sword drawn and his entire being radiating deadly focus.

In the next second, he shot straight toward the floating Icaros, moving faster than the eye could follow. As he came, he swung his sword, releasing an arc of sword qi formed from pure spiritual energy - an attack carrying an aura that screamed one clear message: I will slice you to death.

Icaros was battle-ready and giving everything he had. He twisted his body slightly to dodge the initial arc, then surged straight toward the cultivator, his intense golden-yellow laser roaring out ahead of him - never breaking, never fading.

This time, the cultivator was prepared. He dipped lower, moving just under the direct line of the beam. As they closed the distance, he brought his sword around, once again turning the flat of the blade to face the relentless stream - a beam that held devastating power, cutting sharpness, and blistering heat all at once.

He slammed the broad surface directly into the energy flow, using all his physical strength and spiritual enhancement to push back against it. Pressing hard against the unbroken stream, he forced his way forward until his sword slammed straight into Icaros' approaching form, sending him flying backward to crash into the forest below, where trees snapped and shattered in his wake.

The two surviving disciples let out breaths they had not even realised they were holding, though relief was quickly replaced by worry for their master.

"That man... he is a monster," one whispered. The other nodded in silent agreement.

Seizing the advantage, the cultivator launched himself into the air and shot toward where Icaros had fallen. He raised his sword high, preparing to strike the killing blow - and with his divine sense locked firmly onto his enemy, he knew he could not miss.

But Icaros was focused and operating at full capacity; he did not fail. He shifted position at superhuman speed, aided by the fact that he was already hovering just above the ground. His eyes locked straight onto the cultivator, and then - he unleashed his beam once more.

Holding absolutely nothing back, he directed the laser straight at the swordsman, aiming to stop the deadly strike in its tracks.

Sensing the lethal power contained within the beam, the cultivator dove sideways to evade it, abandoning his killing blow. Then he entered what could only be described as super slash mode - his blade moving so fast it blurred completely. Visible strain showed on his face and body as he wove his spiritual energy into a dense net of sword qi slashes high in the air above. The entire formation, powered by pure spirit energy, descended rapidly, bringing death raining down upon Icaros.

Icaros, now burning with the thirst of battle, looked straight up. His eyes were still blazing with that same intense golden-yellow light. He shot directly upward through the falling attacks, his continuous beam carving a clear path ahead like a spear of pure destruction.

BOOM!

He burst right through, and where he had stood only moments before, a massive mushroom cloud rose up - formed from the impact of the remaining attacks, hiding all the destruction beneath it.

He did not pause for even a second. His intense golden-yellow beam slammed directly into the cultivator. The man quickly brought his sword up, blocking once again with the flat of the blade - but the sheer force of the never-ending stream sent him flying high into the sky, tumbling uncontrollably.

Icaros paused briefly, hovering in place. His body was now crisscrossed with thin, deep gashes - lines left by the sword that had torn through skin and dug into muscle.

Slowly, red blood began to seep out from all over his body. His durability, which had protected him against countless attacks in the past, had finally been overcome by the overwhelming power of an Extinction Realm cultivator.

The man steadied himself in mid-air, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, and smirked coldly. "This is just the beginning."

Icaros did not reply with a single word. He simply tore off his tattered upper robe, revealing the cuts and bleeding wounds covering his chest and back. Clenching his fists tight until his knuckles turned white, he launched himself toward the cultivator once again - and the fight to the death raged on with even greater ferocity.

Hidden in a small bush not far away was the young man who had woken on the shore earlier - the same one who had fought against the island guards and been taken down by their captain. He was now fully healed. He crouched there, concealed, with the captain standing just behind him, his face etched with deep worry as he watched the battle unfolding above. The young man could only think one desperate thought:

Would he survive?