"Commander Dasatama, remember this day well," said the youth whom Jiro—Dasatama's younger brother—had described as the individual destined to reshape history.

When Jiro had first made that declaration, Dasatama had been intrigued yet skeptical. He found it difficult to believe that a young warrior could command such profound respect from his brother—a man who had spent his entire life wandering the continent, subjecting himself to brutal training in pursuit of absolute strength. For Warrior Jiro to hold Aji in such high esteem was no minor matter.

Now, Dasatama was witnessing that overwhelming power firsthand. The youth spoke with an authority that seemed to echo a pivotal warning from the past. Dasatama remained silent, listening intently to Aji's next words, eager to see what the young warrior would do.

"Twenty years ago, when the Three Legends faced the Demon Lord's army alone, the righteous sects were blinded by greed," Aji said, his voice ringing with quiet absolute gravity. "In fighting among themselves, they failed to realize that a far greater catastrophe was looming over them. That day, the destruction of the world was barely averted. If the martial world repeats the same mistakes today, humanity's ruin is only a matter of time."

Aji took a step forward, his boot heavy with concentrated aura. Though his pace was deliberate and slow, each footfall resonated like a seismic pulse through the earth. Dasatama could feel the youth gathering an immense volume of atmospheric mana—compiling a reserve far beyond the natural limits of any young cultivator. It felt like an accumulation of power forged over centuries of discipline.

STEP. STEP.

Taking three measured steps past Dasatama, Aji paused. His internal core flared, channeling dense aura down into his right leg. Dasatama watched intently, wondering if Aji was preparing to leap into the chaotic clash to forcibly separate the brawling cultivators fighting over the celestial artifact.

A violent, incandescent light condensed around Aji's right boot. The pressure radiating from his vessel flared so intensely that even Dasatama—a veteran grandmaster of supreme standing—felt forced backward, compelled to deploy a high-density defensive barrier just to hold his stance. The expanding shockwave brushed aside the ambient atmospheric mana in the clearing.

Dasatama squinted, his vision momentarily blurred by the blinding radiance. In that split second, Aji launched himself into the air.

SWOOOSH!

Aji hovered mid-air, five meters above the ground, positioning himself directly between the brawling crowd and the summit where the Moon Flower glowed. Clenching his right hand into a fist, he condensed an incredible volume of aura around his knuckles.

Dasatama's breath hitched. That stance...

In an instant, a long-buried memory flashed through Dasatama's mind—a moment he had never forgotten. It was the memory of his absolute defeat years ago at the hands of the grandmaster he revered most: Saint Thunder Striker. On that day, Dasatama had been completely outclassed, unable to even register the speed or kinetic weight of the Thunder Striker's signature strike before being brought to his knees.

He had been neutralized before he could even offer a defense. Now, standing beneath Aji's hovering frame, Dasatama felt that exact same suffocating pressure—the absolute domain of the legendary Thunder Striker.

It's impossible! Dasatama thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. Could it truly be that Aji is the direct heir to the Three Legends?!

Before Dasatama could process his shock, Aji brought his aura-infused right fist down, plunging back toward the earth. He slammed his knuckle directly into the soil.

Dasatama realized instantly what was about to happen. It was the absolute signature art of Saint Thunder Striker—a high-density seismic impact designed to freeze and paralyze everything within its radius through high-voltage kinetic shock.

BLAAAAAM!

The ground erupted just as it had in the legends twenty years ago. The moment Aji's fist struck the soil, a surge of high-frequency electrical aura spider-webbed through the earth, discharging a paralyzing wave across the entire coastal plain.

Dasatama felt his own limbs lock instantly. The electrical currents saturating the field immobilized his vessel, binding his muscles in place. Years ago, after his sparring match with the Thunder Striker, Dasatama had trained relentlessly to overcome his limitations, eventually earning the title "God of War"—a warrior capable of shaking heaven and earth.

Mobilizing his absolute maximum internal parameters, Dasatama fought against the freezing effect. Straining his core, he channeled high-volume aura to resist the paralyzing voltage.

Slowly, his fingers twitched. He forced his arms to move against the oppressive force, focusing his mind until he successfully brought his left and right palms together in a central seal. Aura surged through his hands, accelerating his recovery.

Regaining conscious control over his core, Dasatama managed to restore roughly thirty percent of his mobility. The sheer potency of the technique left him in awe; even now, he had to continuously expend high volumes of internal aura just to keep from being completely re-frozen.

This shockwave... It's unbelievable!

Looking around the battlefield, Dasatama saw network threads of blue lightning crackling across the soil like glowing roots. Despite his difficulty in moving, the scene unfolding around him was nothing short of miraculous—a display of divine authority beyond mortal comprehension.

The shockwave had instantly paralyzed every single combatant caught within its wide radius.

The clashing cultivators, the regular military units, the Sky Squad members, and the academy disciples stood completely frozen in place, paralyzed mid-action by the electrical currents. Those who had been leaping mid-air were suspended above the ground, while those on the soil stood locked in their stances like stone statues. The entire chaotic battlefield had fallen dead silent.

Straining against the lingering voltage, Dasatama forced his right boot forward, taking a heavy step.

In the center of the frozen field stood Aji, having straightened his posture after the ground impact. He turned his head slightly, his eyes locking onto Dasatama—the only warrior on the field who had managed to break through the paralysis.

"Remember my warning, Commander Dasatama," Aji said softly. "Safeguard the unity of the righteous alliance. Only through unity can humanity overcome the dark army. If the cultivators surrender to greed and power-hungry ambition, the dark forces will inevitably destroy this world."

Dasatama stared in shock, realizing Aji had known all along that he possessed the strength to resist the freezing effect. Surrounded by hundreds of paralyzed warriors, the two stood in profound silence, conversing as if alone in the world.

"W-Wait, young master... What do you intend to do now?" Dasatama asked, his voice strained as he struggled against the residual voltage. He was stunned that a single youth possessed the kinetic yield to freeze an entire army.

Aji turned his back, gazing up at the incandescent light of the Moon Flower hovering near the summit.

"I am going to eradicate the root cause of their greed," Aji replied evenly. "The source of their temptation must be removed. Unchecked power blinds the weak, turning men into thralls of the abyss."

SPLASH!

Dasatama gasped as Aji vanished from his sight.

Ghost Speed! It was the absolute mobility domain of the assassin saint, Ganada. The realization struck Dasatama like a physical blow: He truly is the sole successor to all Three Legends! A warrior capable of shaking the absolute foundations of the world!

Aji moved at a speed that transcended the visual spectrum, leaving no Afterimage behind. Dasatama shifted his gaze toward the summit just in time to see Aji materialize beside the glowing Moon Flower, bypassing every frozen cultivator on the mountain before anyone could register his movement.

Yet a severe concern lingered in Dasatama's mind. Though the Moon Flower was the fourth celestial artifact, it remained a divine entity storing unfathomable volumes of raw, unrefined energy. Years ago, when the central alliance secured the Heart Dragon, over a hundred high-tier grandmasters had been required to maintain a continuous sealing array just to keep the artifact from discharging destructive shockwaves.

Celestial artifacts could not be touched or refined by mortal hands without extreme preparation; attempting to touch one directly often resulted in the cultivator's physical vessel being vaporized by the artifact's natural rejection field.

That was the fatal error greedy martial artists consistently made. They sought to claim celestial artifacts without understanding that unrefined divine energy would destroy their cores upon contact.

Now, Aji stood mere inches from the hovering Moon Flower.

Was this young warrior planning to refine the celestial artifact on the spot? Or did he intend to absorb its divine energy directly into his own core?

Dasatama could only watch helplessly from afar, his vessel still heavy from the lingering electrical currents. Though he had restored partial mobility, he lacked the output to traverse the field and intervene.

He worried that the moment Aji reached out to touch the Moon Flower, the artifact's violent rejection field would obliterate the youth into dust. Yet Aji showed no hesitation. Raising his right hand toward the heavens, he reached toward the glowing sphere, preparing to exert his will over the celestial artifact.

SWUUUUUSH!

Dasatama's eyes widened in absolute shock at what transpired next.