With the strength to move mountains and a spirit that dominates the world!

“From this moment on, I, Ryan Cooper, officially step into the martial world. As a descendant of David Cooper, the blood in my veins is the legacy of invincibility. Let the thousand years of silence end here! The fallen The Cooper Family will be revived in my hands! The continent will tremble beneath my feet! The undefeated legend will rise again!” With a gaze that looked down upon the world, his aura of supremacy shook everyone’s soul.

Such a world-shattering, heaven-and-earth-dominating presence made everyone present tremble with fear.

“You filthy scum not only covet my The Cooper Family, but also murdered my friends. If you don’t die, justice cannot be served. Kill!” Instantly, true energy surged through the forest, murderous intent soared to the sky.

With the simplest move, his left hand struck out through the air at the crowd. The surging true energy swept toward them like a vast ocean. The front row of burly men bore the brunt, screamed miserably, their bodies collapsing limply to the ground, coughing up blood and dying. With a swing of his right hand, the blade slashed down, and the chilling blade energy instantly tore through the chests of the crowd.

What followed was nothing short of a one-sided massacre. Ryan Cooper leapt into the crowd, his left hand smashing jade, his right hand wielding a steel blade, slashing, hacking, chopping, stabbing, cutting, cleaving, slicing, beheading—blood rained everywhere, splattering and dyeing his entire body red. The simplest moves inflicted the greatest wounds on his enemies; simple actions, simple attacks, executed to perfection, as elusive as a hornless antelope, leaving no trace to follow. In the forest, broken branches and withered leaves danced in the air, surging true energy and chilling blade force raged and clashed, murderous intent soaring.

Grace Thompson’s beautiful face turned pale—what kind of martial art was this! There were no dazzling, complicated moves, only direct and effective killing and defensive techniques. A slash was a slash, a chop was a chop, a block was a block. No distracting feints or unnecessary flourishes, all the superfluous and flashy nonsense was abandoned. Every move sought only results: direct killing, precise defense, simple, clear, effective. This was martial arts designed purely for killing—could this be the power of a king-level master? Just moments ago, he looked like a lamb to the slaughter—how could he suddenly reach such a realm?

Grace Thompson had come this time specifically for the The Cooper Family. The words of her elders still echoed in her ears: “Recently, rumors have spread throughout the martial world that a thousand years ago, David Cooper left behind a Primordial Stone. All factions are searching for the descendants of the The Cooper Family. You must find the The Cooper Family first and obtain the Primordial Stone, lest it fall into the hands of those with ill intent. If necessary, use any means.”

At this moment, seeing Ryan Cooper’s blood-red, shining eyes, Grace Thompson’s heart trembled, and a terrifying memory surfaced in her mind. An ancient, tattered book in the secret archives recorded: “Anyone who attains the realm of transformation can place their essence into an object upon nirvana. If a righteous person obtains it, their body becomes saintly, their power reaches transformation; if a bloodthirsty killer obtains it, they sacrifice themselves to become a demon.”

Watching the black jade stone in Ryan Cooper’s hand, Grace Thompson suddenly understood: “Sacrifice oneself to become a demon—could it really be that? Wouldn’t that mean killing everyone on sight? What should I do, how can I subdue him? There are fewer than twenty king-level masters in the world, and each dominates their own territory—where could I find one in such a short time?” A faint worry appeared on her stunning face, but she still did not leave, deciding to observe a while longer.

This period was nothing short of a nightmare for “Mousey” and “Shorty”. Their subordinates fell one after another, blood staining the yellow earth, blood mist filling the forest. Especially that slaughterer: a demon-god-like, handsomely sinister face, blood-red, shining eyes that chilled the soul. Watching the elite of their clan die one by one, they were filled with deep regret—why did they kill those “country folk”? Their arrogance had brought this calamity upon them. Alas! Too late for regrets.

“Shorty” bent his bow and nocked an arrow, shooting a cold arrow straight at Ryan Cooper. The long arrow flew toward Ryan Cooper like lightning, emitting a sharp whistling sound. At such close range, it should have been a fatal shot. But the arrow suddenly froze three feet in front of Ryan Cooper, then shattered inch by inch, scattering in the wind.

This terrifying scene shocked everyone.

The confidence of “Mousey” and “Shorty” in their own martial arts was utterly destroyed. Ignoring the fate of their subordinates, they turned and fled. Their followers were plunged into utter despair. Even knowing they would die, not one retreated out of loyalty to the clan. Yet at this moment, the young master they were loyal to gave no orders and fled before his men. In the blink of an eye, the despairing followers became corpses who died with their eyes open. Stepping over the bodies, Ryan Cooper flung his steel blade, while a long sword kicked up by his foot shot out like lightning. “Puff, puff”—two sounds, striking “Shorty” and “Mousey” squarely in the back, felling them and ending their evil lives.

Blood mist swirled in the forest, the stench of blood was nauseating, and with dozens of corpses on the ground, the atmosphere was unspeakably eerie and terrifying. From within the blood mist, a tall figure walked step by step toward Grace Thompson, yet Grace Thompson showed not a trace of panic. In such a ghastly scene stood a peerless beauty, making it all the more strange. The peerless beauty’s white robes fluttered, her face calm and composed, her stunning features like a newly risen bright moon, illuminating the gloomy woods.

A wonderful voice rang out like jade beads falling on a plate: “Not all of your friends have died.”

“I know. None of them can die.”