"Haha, Ethan, you actually dare to come up here and throw your life away." Seeing this, Brock relaxes completely. "Watch me knock you off this arena in under three moves."
He roars, and the stone slabs beneath his feet crack instantly as he charges at you like a cannonball. A fist rockets toward your face, the wind of the punch shrieking, stinging every cheek in the crowd. The onlookers can already picture you getting sent flying.
On the high platform, Julian lifts his teacup, confident of victory.
But just as the fist is about to make contact with your face, you move. Or no, perhaps you don't move at all. You simply extend a single finger, your index finger, pale and slender, and lightly you tap it against the crushing force of Brock's fist.
In that instant, time seems to freeze. The raging force of the punch simply vanishes. Brock's savage grin freezes on his face.
Crack.
A crisp sound of bones snapping echoes across the arena, then follows a rapid chain of cracks. Crack. Crack. Crack. Starting from his cheekbone, spreading through his wrist, his arm bone, all the way to his shoulder blade, shattering inch by inch.
And it isn't over. That unmatched force surges into his body like a landslide, rupturing his internal organs.
Splat.
Brock's body is hurled backward like a torn sack, blood spraying from his mouth, carving a gruesome arc through the air. Bang. He crashes down more than ten metres away, twitches twice, and is left with no fighting strength at all.
One shot, one kill. An Earth Realm first level powerhouse taken down with a single finger, as effortlessly as brushing off dust.
The entire martial arena falls into a deathly silence. On the platform, the teacup slips from Julian's hand and shatters on the floor. Chloe whips her head around, staring at you standing on the arena, completely unbothered, her beautiful eyes filled with an incomprehensible shock.
Under the crowd's stunned silence, you slowly withdraw your finger, glancing once at the unconscious man on the ground below. Then you lift your head, your gaze sweeping across Julian on the platform and his group of lackeys. You speak calmly, your voice not loud, yet it detonates like thunder in every ear present.
"Next one."
Those two words land like slaps, striking straight across Julian's face. His expression turns ashen. The lackeys beside him go pale with fear, legs trembling, not one daring to meet your gaze.
"Useless, the lot of you." Julian grinds the words through clenched teeth, his reason already devoured by jealous rage. "All of you go together and teach him a lesson. If anything happens, I'll take responsibility."
The lackeys exchange nervous glances, fear plastered across every face. Brock's fate lies right there in plain sight. Going up there would just mean more injured bodies.
"What? You dare disobey me too?" Julian's aura, Emperor Realm third level, explodes outward. Icy killing intent drops them straight into a pit of ice. They know that if they don't step up today, Julian will make them pay a far worse price.
They trade one last look of despair, grit their teeth, and draw their weapons.
"Ethan, you've harmed your own kin. We're cleaning house for the family." The one in front shouts to steel his own nerve.
Four figures charge in from four directions, converging on you.
"Four more coming to throw their lives away," someone mutters below.
On the platform, the Reed elders wear complicated expressions, yet none of them intervene. Even your father, Damian Reed, only clenches his fists tight, saying nothing. Only Chloe digs her nails deep into her own palms, realising she can no longer read you at all.
On the arena, facing the four-way assault, you don't even move the hand resting behind your back. The instant the attackers close in, you take one small step to the left. Just one step. Your figure appears ghostlike behind a young swordsman among them.
"Too slow." Your voice sounds right beside his ear, terrifying him out of his wits. Just as he turns, a hand, impossibly light, presses against his back. A muffled thud. The young man doesn't even have time to cry out before he crumples to the ground unconscious.
One strike, decisive.
"Kill him!" A broad-shouldered swordsman charges like a madman, hacking a blade straight at your head.
Without even turning your head, you reach back and grab it. Clang. The steel blade, infused with vicious force, is pinned effortlessly between two of your fingers.
"Too weak," you say. You shake your head, twist your fingers ever so slightly. Crack. The steel blade snaps in two. You flick a finger, and the broken half of the blade transforms into a streak of cold light, flying back ten times faster than it came. It grazes past the swordsman's shoulder, leaving a spray of blood behind. He screams and collapses.
In the blink of an eye, two of the four are down. The remaining two completely fall apart.
"Monster. You're a monster." One of them shrieks, throwing his weapon aside, turning to flee. But the moment he turns, a chill hits the back of his neck. You give a casual wave and a burst of force strikes the back of his neck. His vision goes black and he crumples to the ground.
The last one is already too terrified to think, slumped on the ground, pointing at you, babbling incoherently. "Don't. Don't hit. It was Julian. Julian made us come."
"Too noisy." Your brow furrows slightly. Another casual wave, and the man crumples too, unconscious.
Complete silence fills the arena. This isn't disdain anymore. It's total domination.
Next, your gaze lands once more on the high platform, on the young man in white whose face has turned an unspeakable shade of ugly. The look in your eyes practically asks: Julian, have you run out of people to send yet?
"Ah, Ethan, I'll make you pay for this." Julian completely loses control, like a man possessed, unleashing his Emperor Realm third level pressure to sweep across the arena.
"Master Julian, calm yourself." Your father, Damian Reed, finally steps in, an even more powerful presence rising up to fully block Julian's pressure. A Heaven-Piercing Realm cultivator. "Master Julian, this is Reed family territory. Please show some restraint." His tone carries a clear warning.
Grand Elder Marcus quickly steps in to smooth things over, then turns to glare at you. "Ethan, you struck far too hard. Apologise to Julian right now."
"Apologise?" You laugh. "Grand Elder, which of your eyes saw me strike first? They came up here to provoke me themselves. I was simply defending myself. Or is it Reed family rule that only Julian is allowed to set fires, while Ethan isn't even permitted to light a candle?"
Marcus is left speechless, his face flushing red.
"Enough." Your father's cold shout cuts the farce short. "The tournament continues. Does anyone else wish to challenge him?"
The thousands of disciples in the arena fall silent. Challenge you? Who would dare?