They say your greatest enemy is yourself. Not always. For those drunk on confidence, maybe. But if you see your flaws and mend them, the self loses its fangs. Know your cracks; when you face that enemy called “yourself,” you strike those faults again and again.

In all things, seize the reins. In battle, doubly so. I’ve been crossing blades with the shadow for about five minutes. I’ve kept it pressed the whole time. Whenever it tried to launch a strong sword technique, I cut it off mid-breath.

It tried to break mine too, more than once. Too bad. With Sword Intent guiding me, I slipped aside like wind through reeds. My channeling stayed untouched.

Looks, build, and raw strength can be copied; Sword Intent alone can’t. Sword Intent is the will of a Sword Wielder. A shadow isn’t even a living thing—where would it get a will? No will, no Sword Intent. With Sword Domain and Sword Intent, I held the high ground. Still, I didn’t press too hard. Corner a thing like that and it might blow itself up. My job was simple: drain its energy like a cracked jar.

Sure enough, time gnawed at it. The shadow’s strength sank, and its body went faint, like mist thinning under sun.

Good. That sight lit a spark in me. I kept slashing out Sword Aura. The instant it raised its guard, I darted in and gathered more.

Half a heartbeat later, the Sword Aura was set. I dipped my stance, leveled the Shattered Light Sword at my hip, then cut a crescent of Sword Aura. The arc fanned out fast, rippling outward like a wave. The shadow meant to dodge. Too late. It had just blocked the last stroke; the spreading crescent was already at its throat. In a panic, it popped a sloppy defensive technique on the spot. It couldn’t stop that arc.

Blood burst from its mouth. Its body was almost cleaved in two by the Sword Aura. If it hadn’t detonated the energy inside the crescent, it would’ve been cut at the waist. The blast hit hard, but it only threw it back. Heavy wounds, not fatal.

Haa… haa… I’m spent. I wanted to chase and finish it, but my arms felt hollow. Ten minutes of full burn—mind and body both drained dry. I needed a breath.

Three long minutes crawled by…

The shadow limped toward me, ready to collapse at any moment. Cuts mapped its body; it looked ragged, like a torn banner in wind. But its eyes held a flicker of madness. A chill pricked my heart. What was that? I’d felt sure of this fight, and suddenly I was heavy with caution.

Seventh layer is still the seventh layer. Easy or not, it’s the seventh layer—no room for carelessness. I knew my limits. All-out, I could last two, maybe three more minutes. In a normal pace I could last longer, but that would only drag this battle into a stalemate.

The seventh layer, “True Reflection,” looks simple but bites deep. The fourth layer was one-on-one too, yet this feels far harder. Enough fretting. End the shadow fast.

To save strength, I stopped spamming techniques. I sprinted straight for it, aiming to lock into melee, read a flaw, and land a killing strike.

Seeing me rush in, its mouth curled upward… Bad. I pulled back at once, but too late. Centered on the shadow, hundreds of swords speared up from the ground, hemming us in a ring. No path out, only iron thorns. Damn, a trap. It meant to die with me if needed.

No time to brood. I raised my sword and met it head-on. As the ring sealed, the shadow erupted. Its ferocity outstripped mine; it threw itself at me like it had no life to spare.

Clang! Clang! Clang! The crisp clash of blade on blade rang through the sealed hall. Right then, I felt it: my melee was weak—ridiculous for a Sword Wielder. Well, no wonder. I usually favor ranged sword techniques and Sword Aura, with close-quarters swordplay just the weave underneath. Over time, my hands forgot the feel of tight exchanges.

A Sword Wielder bad at melee? If Xinuo saw me like this, she’d polish me with a method sharp as winter steel.

I know Xinuo’s temper and tools too well; a shiver crept down my spine. Fine. Find the flaw, fix the flaw—that’s my one steady merit. I’ll use this ring of blades as my grindstone.

Once the thought clicked, my swordwork smoothed a touch. Before, I barely held even—the shadow used its sword better than me. Now… I was inching into advantage.

Not enough. Not yet. Minutes bled away, and the fight froze into stalemate. My grasp of melee swordplay wasn’t good; I couldn’t force a win in this range. Without Sword Intent, I’d already be losing.

I’d dropped the Sword Domain long ago; it doesn’t help much in tight quarters. What now? Break distance? The walls of swords around us made that a fantasy, and the shadow wouldn’t gift me that opening.

With Sword Intent and nimble footwork, I had the edge, but only just. Its close-quarters was stronger. Beating it head-on would be hard. I parried, thought, and parried again, mind racing like sparks off steel.

The simplest way to clear the seventh layer and beat the shadow was to raise my melee swordplay. But how, right now? My head was fog, and no other path appeared.

I sighed under my breath and accepted the present. At least, as time stretched, I felt my close-quarters swordwork grow, if only a little. To truly lift it, I’d need long grind, not a single duel.

No time. Melee chews stamina as fast as a flare, same as my earlier burst. I was in trouble; I wouldn’t last long. Keep trading at this range and I’d lose for sure. No choice. I cut a line of Sword Aura to drive it back, spun on my heel, and gathered again.

Sword Qi Storm!

I poured everything into it. The tornado roared alive, savage and huge. In a blink, it smashed the surrounding sword walls and swallowed the shadow whole. It spun it like straw and tore fresh wounds. Its strength crashed down to the upper tier of the Sacred Realm.

I’d already sprinted far. I opened the Sword Domain again and watched it struggle to rise. I drew a deep breath. My stamina was a guttering candle—maybe a minute left. Which means I have to end the shadow within one minute…