Those who had gathered here to witness the battle of the beast were all either wealthy or powerful, and countless hidden forces lurked among them. Each of them was filled with anticipation, wondering whether Yang Hao was truly as formidable as the rumors claimed—whether he could shake the Ten Sword Schools to their core and even pose a threat to the Senate.
The arena had fallen silent. The gravitational field kept the wind and mist outside, even dimming the sky’s hue, while the colossal arena itself remained brightly illuminated. Now, it indeed appeared to be a magnificent structure. Except for the spectator stands, the arena itself was a purely natural formation, encircled by towering mountains whose sheer cliffs were as smooth as mirrors. Once someone descended into the arena, escape was nearly impossible—only a fight to the death remained.
The grass covering the ground was strangely peculiar. Though it resembled ordinary green weeds, each blade bore tiny red fruits no larger than a fingernail, exuding a sweet, intoxicating fragrance.
Yang Hao scanned the arena. There seemed to be no beasts still wandering about, and the crown prince’s son had long retreated to a safe location.
“Lord Yang Hao,” the crown prince beckoned him closer, “you must be cautious. The Emperor plans to officially bestow the title of Lord and Noble upon you soon.”
“Let the young prince kill the beast, and I won’t be afraid,” Yang Hao replied confidently.
Apparently recalling how Yang Hao had helped his son, the crown prince offered one final warning: “The Beast-Heart Sword Corps is nothing like ordinary beasts. Each of the Ten Sword Schools possesses unique techniques, but the Beast-Heart Sword Corps commands dominion over all beasts.”
“Is that so?” Yang Hao still hadn’t grasped the severity.
The crown prince sighed. “The Empire expands rapidly. Many uncharted planets are plagued by monstrous beasts, some of which rival sword masters or even grand sword masters in strength, causing great losses to the imperial army. The Beast-Heart Sword Corps was formed specifically to counter these beasts. With this corps, the Empire no longer fears the scourge of monstrous creatures.”
Yang Hao furrowed his brow. He was beginning to sense trouble.
“The beasts, not the men, are the real threat,” the crown prince concluded—a final favor repaid for his son’s sake.
As Yang Hao reentered the arena, he felt something was off.
Upon his initial arrival, the arena had seemed like a simple grassy field. But now, stepping onto the grass, he sensed an inexplicable aura of bloodlust.
He glanced up at the spectator stands. Bista, the commander of the Beast-Heart Sword Corps, still stood motionless, seemingly unwilling to engage personally. However, he had already unsheathed the Beast-Heart Sword, pointing it high into the air. The blade, engraved with beastly patterns, was faintly glowing red.
A wave of nausea washed over Yang Hao, and a metallic, bloody taste rose in his throat.
“The red fruits are the problem,” said Hunyuanzi, a master of herbalism. “The Beast-Heart Sword can extract the bloodlust from these red fruits, intensifying the beasts’ ferocity and lethality.”
“No worries. Let’s see what happens,” Yang Hao replied. After all, he had slain beasts before. When he first arrived, he had even seen the young prince kill one. Though stronger than ordinary beasts, even a dozen wouldn’t be a serious challenge.
Yet, if the Beast-Heart Sword Corps of the Ten Sword Schools were truly so simple, how could they have earned a place within the Empire? Their mentor, a senior councilor, was an extremely formidable figure.
Soon, Yang Hao saw his opponents.
More accurately, a horde of them.
In the outer territories, Yang Hao had slain a juvenile black beast, which wasn’t particularly strong. The young prince had slain a mature fire beast, a creature whose power exceeded level ten. Now, Yang Hao faced beasts of similar caliber, differing only in elemental attributes—red, blue, and black. Each stood over five meters tall, their hides as thick as armor, with teeth protruding from their lips, gleaming ominously. On each beast’s head stood a warrior from the Beast-Heart Sword Corps—half-naked, their muscular frames grotesquely bulging, resembling beasts themselves.
But what truly shocked Yang Hao wasn’t their appearance—it was their sheer number.
Over a hundred beasts had appeared at once. This wasn’t a duel; it was a massacre.
Even the crown prince in the stands frowned in disapproval.
Meanwhile, Princess Xianlan clapped in delight, her demeanor far from regal.
“Dear brother, you wanted to test his strength, right? Now you can see it clearly.”
“We only wanted to assess his abilities, not see him die,” the crown prince replied.
“Those who lack the strength to serve Father deserve to die,” Xianlan muttered bitterly.
Yang Hao indeed faced a grave predicament. His strength had grown significantly, but swordsmanship alone wouldn’t save him from being overwhelmed by so many beasts.
The cheers and waving white handkerchiefs transformed the stands into a sea of white.
Bista stood atop the largest black beast, its forehead adorned with a palm-sized green crystal. His face darkened as he drew the Beast-Heart Sword and raised it high.
The blade turned crimson, radiating a strange force. Yang Hao felt the bloodlust intensify, as if the red fruits were rotting and bleeding.
The Beast-Heart Sword indeed extracted the fruits’ essence, amplifying the beasts’ power. The green crystal on Bista’s beast pulsed, and all the beasts roared in unison.
“ROAR!!!” Bista bellowed, and the beasts’ combined roar formed a shockwave, crashing toward Yang Hao like a tidal wave.
Sound itself was their weapon—a signature of the Beast-Heart Sword Corps. Against weaker armies, such a sonic blast could kill outright.
Yet today, they faced Yang Hao. Amid the roar, he stood unmoved, his hair merely disheveled by the foul gust.
“Damn it!” Yang Hao flipped Bista the bird. “What did you feed these beasts? They stink worse than a dragon’s armpit. Don’t they brush their teeth?”
The roar sent spectators reeling. Some collapsed, and those nearby bled from their ears.
Yet Yang Hao merely paled slightly, then smirked. “That’s a roar? Pathetic. Let me show you a real one!”
He raised a finger and gently stroked a ring on it—the Dragon’s Roar Ring, one of the five divine rings granted by the gods. He had intended to keep it hidden, but with so many eyes watching, he had no choice but to reveal his strength.
As he touched the ring, the air around him rippled, visible like water waves. A faint, piercing cry emerged, laced with celestial wrath.
The beasts trembled in fear, the frontmost ones instinctively retreating.
Suddenly, a piercing dragon’s roar erupted, splitting the heavens. The sheer might of the roar sent shockwaves through the mountains, darkened the skies, and silenced the crowd.
Even the stands shook violently. The weaker sections collapsed, alloy panels shattering into fragments. Thousands fell but were caught by anti-gravity fields.
The beasts fared far worse.
As the dragon’s roar struck, the frontmost ten were shredded into nothingness, their remains reduced to mere cores. Dozens more had their armored hides torn away, blood spilling from their black flesh. Several beasts’ heads exploded, their demise gruesome.
Even the outermost beasts, though slightly farther, had their bones shattered, blood pouring from eyes and ears as they quivered.
The entire beast army was annihilated.
To the spectators, it seemed Yang Hao had merely stroked his finger.
Bista stood frozen. His beast, on the outermost edge, had suffered the least but still could barely move. As the commander of the Beast-Heart Sword Corps, he had full confidence in his forces. Though he knew Yang Hao was strong, he never imagined such overwhelming power.
With a mere gesture, Yang Hao had summoned a dragon’s roar—specifically, that of a black dragon, the most formidable of all. Was Yang Hao even human?
Bista’s heart ached. The beast legion had taken a decade to assemble from across the galaxy, representing the Corps’ greatest strength. And now, it was gone in an instant.
He wanted revenge. Bista resolved that Yang Hao must not leave the arena alive. If Yang Hao emerged unscathed, the Beast-Heart Sword Corps would be finished—abandoned by the Senate, which had no use for failures.
“You won’t believe I still have one last move,” Bista thought, his heart steadying. He now looked forward to what Yang Hao would soon face.
The Beast-Heart Sword Corps ranked higher than the Light Sword Sect among the Ten Sword Schools. Bista’s enduring command of the Beast-Heart Sword was no accident—he possessed hidden strength unknown to all but a few in the Empire, even the other sword schools.
This ultimate secret, reserved for the Emperor and Senate’s orders alone, was now to be unleashed.
Xianlan had already given the command to use full force.
Thus, Bista was certain—Yang Hao would die. With Yang Hao gone, all losses would be justified, and Bista’s status would rise.
He raised the Beast-Heart Sword high, murmuring incantations.
As Bista chanted, Yang Hao sensed something strange.
He knew this wouldn’t end easily.
Though framed as a mere duel, this was, in truth, a political struggle between factions. A mysterious force had subtly aided Yang Hao since his arrival on Earth, preventing the Ten Sword Schools and Senate from acting against him.
Even after he displayed that audacious couplet, no one dared confront him.
Yet now, Yang Hao felt a chilling presence—several pairs of murderous eyes watching him from the shadows.
He followed the cold sensation and his heart sank.
Far beyond the stands, a group of beast knights watched calmly. Unlike the Beast-Heart Sword Corps, these beings were entirely different.
Their steeds were snow-white, with emerald eyes—clearly no ordinary beasts, nor even beasts in the traditional sense. Yang Hao stared in awe at these proud, majestic creatures.
They resembled lions, but twice as large, with pure white fur and a single silver horn glowing with divine light atop each head.
“Amazing,” Yang Hao murmured. These beings radiated a pure, unfamiliar energy.
Each lion bore a knight. The leader, especially striking, wore pure white armor and a matching helm, her silver hair cascading like a waterfall. She wielded a rare silver spear—an unmistakable sign of a master swordsman.
The group of six were all formidable. Yang Hao estimated at least five exceeded sword master level, while the leader neared the strength of a sword sage.
The Empire was said to have only three sword sages. Yet Yang Hao had encountered several near-sages in mere days. How many hidden powers lay within this Empire?
If these six lion knights were his next opponents, Yang Hao would rather flee than fight.
“Star Lion Corps of Snow Night has arrived,” Princess Xianlan gasped.
She had been stunned ever since Yang Hao’s dragon roar annihilated the beasts. Her expression was pale, her eyes conflicted.
“They’re just here to observe,” the crown prince smiled, pleased. “To see how strong Yang Hao really is. The Snow Night Star Lion Corps answers only to Father—they won’t interfere.”
“Brother, it seems you’ve won,” Xianlan said, calming herself.
“Let’s see,” the crown prince glanced at her uneasily. “Allowing Bista to use that power was reckless.”
“I did it for Father,” Xianlan replied coldly.
“Hmph!” the crown prince snorted. “Don’t kill Yang Hao. I have use for him.”
Xianlan nodded, signaling Bista.
The signal meant: teach him a lesson, but don’t kill him.
In their eyes, Yang Hao was already defeated, his fate in their hands—or rather, Bista’s.
Bista’s Beast-Heart Sword radiated black fury. What force was he about to summon?
Soon, a sound echoed from above the clouds.
Those who had just climbed back into the stands after being thrown down nearly fell again in terror.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. He could barely breathe.
From the clouds emerged something so astonishing, it seemed to stop hearts.
The stands erupted. Those with heart conditions collapsed. But the rest knelt, worshiping the divine beings in the sky.
What creature could command such reverence from humanity?
Yang Hao didn’t know, but he knew one thing—he’d rather fight the Snow Night Star Lion Corps than face these beings.
At least then, he might escape. Against these, he had no chance but death.
For soaring through the sky, piercing the clouds, and gazing coldly upon the crowd, were dragons.
Dragon roars! Dragon howls! Dragon’s might!
In an instant, humanity felt the might of the dragon race.
These were small, pale-blue dragons. Yet regardless of size, they belonged to the noble dragon race—one of the greatest dark divine races. Though Windrunners were among the weaker dragon types, four together were no less formidable than black dragons.
Yang Hao had seen true black dragons in the Divine Realm, even nearly killing one. He understood their might better than anyone. A dragon’s roar could terrify and kill all beasts. Their breath could strip flesh from bone with a single touch.
A dragon’s body was nearly impervious, its scales unbreakable except by divine artifacts.
In short, to a sword master, dragons were unbeatable—flawless beings with endless power.
Yang Hao was puzzled—how could the Beast-Heart Sword Corps control dragons? The dragon race, proud rulers among divine beings, would destroy any lesser race that dared look upon them.
Yet here they were, each ridden by a dragon rider, soaring obediently through the sky without resistance.
But soon, Yang Hao understood. Only a few in the world could grasp this truth—and he was one of them.
After the divine race’s power was sealed, dragons were confined to restricted zones. Some, however, remained outside, retaining only a fraction of their former might—about one percent.
Though diminished, even one percent of a dragon’s power was formidable. But without their full divine strength, the Windrunners could be controlled by the Beast-Heart Sword.
Yet Yang Hao’s understanding wasn’t complete. Even the Beast-Heart Sword Corps didn’t know the full truth.
These four Windrunners had indeed been sealed by divine restrictions, but even weakened, they remained uncontrollable. To subdue them, a senior councilor of the Senate, along with a hundred elders, had performed a new sealing ritual within the dragons’ minds.
It was a brutal battle. Dragon mental power was their greatest weapon. In the end, sixty elders perished before the sealing was complete.
This was the greatest loss the Senate had suffered since its founding.
The result: the Empire gained four dragons.
These dragons had paid a terrible price, so their use was strictly controlled. Until now, they had been deployed only twice, each time securing decisive victories.
Today, their target was Yang Hao.
“Master, come out!” Yang Hao called for Hunyuanzi, who had been unusually silent.
“I’m busy,” Hunyuanzi replied. “I’m in the middle of a crucial practice. Handle it yourself.”
“Are you blind? Those are dragons—four of them!” Yang Hao wanted to drag Hunyuanzi out of his body.
“So what?” Hunyuanzi scoffed. “We’ve nearly beaten a black dragon before. What’s so scary about four Windrunners, especially weakened ones?”
“Are you kidding? That black dragon was tricked. Without Yun Shang’s help, I’d be dead!” Yang Hao retorted.
“Fine!” Yang Hao gritted his teeth, opening a silver case on his belt. He took out three pills—the Red, Blue, and Black Sword Pills, recently refined from rare materials. Only nine had been made from three crates of ingredients, each worth a fortune.
But what was money when his life was at stake?
As he swallowed the pills, a strange sensation surged through him. Three different energies coiled in his dantian, merging into a cosmic force. His inner universe resonated with the outer cosmos, though the galaxy’s usual power was diminished, leaving only a one-way connection.
As Yang Hao absorbed the second pill’s power, the dragons dove.
The sky darkened. The sun and moon dimmed.
The wind alone shook the stands violently. Combined with their roars, the force could crush a man.
Yet Yang Hao vanished.
When he reappeared, he soared high above, faster than his previous “Flying Petal Shadow Step,” nearly achieving the “Light Stream Shadow Step.”
This technique, learned in the Divine Realm, was nearly impossible for ordinary beings to master. But Yang Hao had been blessed by a goddess, who had helped forge his core with her own body, leaving a fragment of divine energy within him.
Thus, he could use a sliver of divine technique.
That sliver alone allowed him to evade the dragons’ fatal strike.
He hovered above as the four dragons halted mid-dive, avoiding collision. With a flap of their wings, they unleashed a massive explosion, halting their descent.
Their riders, however, were thrown forward, crushed in the blast.
The crowd erupted in cheers, waving handkerchiefs wildly. To them, blood and carnage were entertainment.
Bista shouted, and new riders emerged, mounting the dragons once more.
It seemed the loss of riders was common, so the Corps had backups.
The dragons, just beginning to relax, were forced back into submission. The new riders drove long spikes into the dragons’ vulnerable necks—their only weak spot.
The dragons howled in pain but, bound by countless seals, could do nothing.
Only now did Yang Hao understand the full horror—the dragons weren’t merely sealed by the “Person” but also mentally enslaved.
He felt a pang of sorrow.
He knew the dragon race’s pride. For eons, they had stood among the highest divine beings, their arrogance etched into their souls. Even among divine races, only Sa’an, the Dark Angel King, commanded their respect. Even Yun Shang, a god of the Shun race, was looked down upon.
Yet now, these proud beings were ridden like beasts by weak humans wielding sharp spears.
But Yang Hao had no time for pity. The dragons turned their gaze back to him, this time unleashing not just physical attacks, but mental ones.
The dragons’ mental power was now fully displayed.
Four pale-blue ice spears materialized silently in the air, speeding toward Yang Hao.
These were solid manifestations of dragon mental energy. Even at one percent strength, the dragons’ power was astonishing.
Yet Yang Hao stood his ground. A powerful sword aura surged around him, spilling into the air as blazing flames.
These flames were unlike any before—fierce, yet inclusive, containing immense condensed power.
Each flame carried ten times the usual heat and density.
“This is my only chance,” Yang Hao thought. Facing four Windrunners, even two sword sages would perish. The one watching him had gone too far.
But he had one last trick—earned with his life and Hunyuanzi’s.
The ice spears pierced forward, but Yang Hao’s flames burned them away. Only such power could counter dragon mental attacks.
The dragons roared again, diving in unison.
Yang Hao suddenly plummeted.
Like a fiery meteor, he crashed toward the ground.
The dragons followed, folding their wings and diving vertically.
The crowd gasped, thinking something had gone wrong, sending both man and dragons crashing down.
Yang Hao hit the ground, raising a cloud of dust, motionless. Flames still burned around him, but he made no move to evade.
The dragons seized the moment, opening their mouths to unleash blue dragon breath.
Dragon breath!
A dragon’s greatest weapon. Even sealed, their breath remained deadly. Contact meant instant melting of flesh and bone—whether by fire, poison, or ice mattered little.
The breath condensed the air, freezing it. The grass and red fruits turned to ash. Nearby surviving beasts screamed as their flesh rotted.
Even the riders were vaporized in the blast.
This was only one percent of their original breath. Once, four such blasts would reduce everyone present to bones.
Yang Hao, engulfed in flames, could withstand ice spears but not dragon breath.
The four concentrated blasts extinguished his flames instantly, like the fiercest wind sweeping through.
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