Chapter 352

A sharp, ringing note split the heavens. The Abyssal Godblade blazed with radiant blue light, its brilliance spreading across the Southern Shore. Everyone froze, eyes wide in disbelief, the entire beach falling into utter silence.
Every gaze-shocked, fearful, and awed-turned toward Leander. Even the patriarchs of the four major elite families of Highcliffe, who had been composed the whole time, could no longer hide their astonishment.
Just moments earlier, the greatest prodigies of Astria-Ethan, Daphne, Claire, and others had all stepped forward and failed to move the Abyssal Godblade. Many had begun to believe that no one in this world could draw it. Yet now, that same divine weapon, wreathed in cold blue light, had been pulled free—and by none other than a man most of them barely recognized.
All eyes were fixed on Leander. Among the crowd were the finest young martial talents of Astria, easily representing over 80% of the martial world’s younger generation. Every one of them had tried and failed. Even the top prodigies-Ethan and Daphne among them-had been powerless before the sword.
So how could this young man, whom most had never even heard of, draw out the Abyssal Godblade so effortlessly?
“That guy Eira’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock.
Years ago, Leander had been a towering figure in Highcliffe, but time had passed. His name had faded, replaced by new prodigies like Ethan. She had never once imagined that the supreme divine weapon-the Abyssal Godblade itself—would respond to him.
Tycen’s face turned red, then pale, a storm of disbelief twisting his expression. He had poured all his power into moving that sword and failed to lift it even a fraction. Yet Leander, a man he had barely regarded as a martial cultivator at all, had drawn it effortlessly.
How could someone without any cultivation possibly command the Abyssal Godblade?
Daphne and Ethan stood stunned as well, horror flashing across their faces.
They knew Leander better than most. Once, he had been dazzling beyond compare —but after Gareth had stripped him of his martial power, he had fallen completely from grace. And yet, the sword that was said to bow only to the sovereign of the age now blazed brilliantly in Leander’s grasp. Its glow was blinding.
For a long moment, neither of them could even process what they were seeing. Ethan, in particular, felt the world tilt beneath his feet.
He possessed twin martial powers and had trained under Gareth himself, the foremost master in Astria’s martial world. His cultivation had risen swiftly, and among the younger generation, he had believed himself unmatched. To him, Leander was already a relic of the past.
This martial assembly between the four major elite families had been meant to prove his supremacy-to claim the Abyssal Godblade and confirm his destiny. Yet the truth was cruel. He had failed where Leander, stripped of power and discarded by fate, had triumphed. Nothing could have been more unthinkable.
From the iron platform where the patriarchs sat, Gareth, Teion, Jack, and Wesley all turned toward one another, their gazes meeting in silent disbelief.
They had placed their hopes in their own heirs, confident that one of them would rise to greatness. Instead, it was Leander-the least likely of all-who had drawn the divine blade and outshone every young talent present. It defied all logic.
Gareth’s eyes widened as he stared at Leander. The Abyssal Godblade was a weapon of impossible might so powerful that even he, one of Astria’s greatest living masters, had never been able to stir it.
Among the younger generation, he had placed his faith in Ethan, Daphne, and the other leading talents. If anyone were to draw the sword, it should have been one of them. But Leander the very man whose martial power had been destroyed and whose cultivation was gone—had awakened the Abyssal Godblade instead.
The sight was something Gareth could not reconcile.
“Why?” he murmured under his breath. “It’s said that only the true sovereign can draw the Abyssal Godblade. Why would it respond to Leander? Why would it choose him?”
His thoughts spun wildly, struggling to grasp the truth. Can it be that the sword still recognized Leander as bearing the destiny of a sovereign—and has chosen him as its rightful master?
The question sent chills through Gareth’s spine.
After all, the Abyssal Godblade had once been wielded by Aurion, the Sun Emperor and Veyar, the God of War-two beings from ancient myth, paragons of divine might whose cultivation had reached the Transcendent Realm itself. Only those like them were worthy of mastering such a weapon.
So how could a man who had lost his martial power-a man who could no longer even practice the martial arts—possibly command the Abyssal Godblade? How could it acknowledge him at all?
After a long moment of stunned silence, the crowd erupted into chaos.
“No way! Who is that guy? Did he really just draw the Abyssal Godblade?”
“I can’t believe my eyes! Even Ethan and the others couldn’t make it move—so how did that man get it to leap out on its own?”
“He looks unfamiliar… definitely not one of Astria’s top martial prodigies. So why can he wield the Abyssal Godblade?”
The uproar rippled across the Southern Shore, shock and confusion spreading like wildfire. Only a handful of people—Claire, Emma, and those who knew Leander’s true identity—remained calm, their eyes filled with quiet certainty.
“As expected,” Claire murmured, a faint smile touching her lips. “Only he is worthy of the Abyssal Godblade.”
Among Astria’s younger generation, Jeff Ashcroft might be the strongest under heaven, she thought, but only Leander truly bears the spirit of a sovereign.
Under the weight of countless astonished stares, Leander remained perfectly composed. He held the Abyssal Godblade across his arm, brushing two fingers lightly along its gleaming blade.
Feeling the razor-sharp chill radiating from the metal, he nodded with faint approval. “A fine sword indeed.”
Even with just a touch, he could sense its peerless sharpness-its spirit alive and watchful. Though he had never cared much for divine weapons, the Abyssal Godblade was undeniably extraordinary: the most formidable weapon he had ever encountered.
Within its core, he could faintly feel a vast, ancient power pulsing-one that, if harnessed, could elevate a warrior’s cultivation to the realm of the Overlords.
“Ander!” Daphne hurried toward him, eyes alight with joy. “The Abyssal Godblade has accepted you! It’s a divine relic—its power might help you recover your cultivation and free you from the curse of your lost martial power!”
Her words trembled with hope. Leander’s inability to practice martial arts had always weighed heavily on her heart. Now that the ancient sword itself had chosen him, she dared to believe it could restore what he had lost.
“Help me?” Leander chuckled softly, his tone calm and detached.
Then, without warning, he flung the Abyssal Godblade into the air. The blade arced gracefully before plunging back down, embedding itself deep in the sand until only the hilt remained visible.
“Ander, what are you doing?” Daphne cried, eyes wide in alarm.
Everyone else stared in stunned disbelief. The Abyssal Godblade was a divine treasure beyond measure anyone fortunate enough to claim it would be the envy
of the martial world. Even someone as powerful as Gareth coveted it.
And yet, Leander had tossed it aside as though it were nothing more than scrap metal. No one could comprehend what they had just seen.
Leander straightened, a faint smile on his lips as he turned to Daphne. “Daphne, the Abyssal Godblade may be powerful, but I don’t need it. True strength doesn’t come from wielding a divine weapon. If anything, I am the greatest weapon this world has ever known.”
His gaze swept across the stunned assembly, burning with quiet dominance. Then he stepped forward.
“Daphne, I made a promise to your father—to claim victory in this martial assembly between the four major elite families. Watch closely.”
He was about to summon the gathered contestants when his eyes suddenly flicked toward the horizon. His footsteps halted.
From the distant sea came a deep rumble, waves surging violently as if a storm had been unleashed. The water rose in towering walls that crashed toward the shore like a rolling tsunami.
Gareth and the other patriarchs turned sharply, their expressions darkening as they sensed the overwhelming power approaching. The young elites followed their gaze, fear flashing across their faces.
From atop the heaving sea, four silhouettes emerged, each radiating an aura so vast and divine it seemed to make the heavens tremble. They strode across the waves, their presence towering, godlike four figures descending upon the mortal world.