SMACK
Rheydan’s eyes widened as the sharp sound echoed.
His teeth clenched tightly while he forcefully suppressed the surge of anger rising within him.
Staring at the runic tattooed youth who appeared to be around his age, Rheydan restrained himself the moment he sensed the other party’s cultivation.
There was nothing exceptional about it.
He had never used his strength to bully the weak or oppress those beneath him.
No matter the situation, he had always tried his utmost to hold back.
But striking his face…
That crossed the line.
“Where is the Miss Princess?
I thought I could humiliate you in front of her.”
Hearing those words, Rheydan’s brows knit together in confusion.
Although the man before him was a Golden Core Peak, fighting him meant that he was just bullying him, but that didn’t mean he was going to let anyone disrespect him.
His jaw tightened as he stepped forward, closing the distance unnaturally fast.
His voice was low and restrained.
“Leave.
Otherwise, you will regret it.”
“Ohhh…” The runic tattooed man raised his hands exaggeratedly, cooing.
“I’m scared.
You really think that would make me retreat?”
As he spoke, the man swung his fist again.
Rheydan caught it with ease.
The moment their hands met, the difference was absolute.
Rheydan looked down at the tattooed man with cold indifference.
His voice dropped into a low growl, steady and restrained.
“I warned you.”
He stepped forward and swung his fist.
The punch landed cleanly against the man’s face.
A dull, heavy impact echoed through the clearing as the tattooed man was sent flying backward.
His body slammed into a nearby tree with a violent crash, the trunk splintering apart before collapsing under the force.
Rheydan exhaled slowly, watching the broken wood settle into the snow covered ground.
“Why do people always overreach themselves?” he muttered.
He shook his head, turned around, and walked back toward the hut.
The night wind brushed against his injured body, carrying with it the familiar chill of the extreme north.
Just as he reached for the wooden door, his hand paused.
A laugh echoed behind him. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
It was low and distorted, nothing like genuine amusement.
It sounded closer to the stirring of a beast waking from slumber, rough and unstable.
The sound crawled along his spine.
Rheydan slowly turned his head.
The tattooed man had risen.
Red, ethereal light pulsed across the runic markings carved into his skin, each symbol glowing as if infused with fresh blood.
The air around him warped slightly, pressure leaking out in uneven waves.
His posture was no longer casual or mocking.
Something feral lingered behind his widened grin.
Rheydan’s eyes narrowed.
“Hah, to think you would catch me off guard like that…
even though I was not ready…” The tattooed man looked at Rheydan as he rubbed his jaw that had been hit.
The man suddenly crouched as numerous popping sounds were heard from his body, the red glow intensifying as the forest around them grew unnaturally quiet.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate, as if sensing that the situation had crossed a threshold.
Rheydan clenched his fist.
“I thought the son of the Unrivaled would make me feel something,” the tattooed man said lazily.
“But it seems rumors are just rumors after all.”
Those were the only words Rheydan heard.
The world spun.
A violent gust exploded against his face before his mind could even register the movement.
An overwhelming impact crashed into him, and his body was sent flying like a broken leaf in a storm.
He smashed straight through the wall of his handmade cottage, debris scattering in all directions, before slamming into a colossal rock with a dull, bone rattling thud.
The force did not stop there.
Rheydan was hurled onward, tearing through a cluster of trees as trunks snapped and splintered, until his body finally carved a shallow crater into the ground.
Dust and fragments of earth billowed into the air, lingering heavily in the cold night.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Rheydan lay there, his vision blurred, a sharp ringing echoing inside his skull.
His senses felt dulled, as though the world itself had gone slightly out of focus.
He blinked repeatedly, forcing clarity back into his eyes, then planted his hands into the ground.
Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself up.
Bits of soil and snow slid off his body as he stood, breath steadying despite the pain radiating through his muscles.
His gaze lifted, sharp and cold now, locking onto the figure that had closed the distance like a ghost even though he had been flung far away by that punch.
This opponent was nothing like the ones that he had faced until now.
“What… what kind of power is that?”
Rheydan’s voice came out hoarse, carrying a trace of disbelief.
The Path of the Body.
The Way of Physical Sanctification.
That realization alone was enough to make his blood stir.
“Warkarian…” Rheydan growled under his breath.
Yet almost immediately, his brows knit together.
“No… something feels off.
Why does he seem different?”
Before he could dwell further on the thought, a savage presence bore down on him.
An overwhelmingly beastlike aura surged forward, heavy and oppressive, as though an ancient predator had locked onto its prey.
Rheydan pushed himself upright, snow cascading off his shoulders as his boots ground against the frozen earth.
Cold air filled his lungs.
He straightened fully and rolled his neck once.
A series of crisp cracks echoed from his body as his muscles tightened and his bones aligned.
His aura responded instinctively, rising in a steady tide, sharp and resolute.
This itself was wonderous, as damaging his physique in a single blow was something he had never felt, because in the Immortal Path, he had also reinforced his body, which made his Blood Qi exceptionally robust.
The snow around him trembled faintly.
BOOM.
The ground shattered beneath their feet, cracks spiderwebbing outward as snow and earth burst into the air.
“Oh, how I wish your lover could see how I sent you flying!”
The tattooed man’s laughter rang out, loud and unrestrained, carrying a cruel delight.
His eyes gleamed as he stared at Rheydan, watching the aura around him steadily climb.
For the first time, that grin faltered.
A faint sense of unease crept into his chest.
Not enough to make him retreat.
Not enough to turn the fight into despair.
But enough.
Enough for him to realize that the man standing before him was no longer someone he could casually toy with.
Rheydan straightened slowly, snow sliding off his shoulders as his presence expanded.
The ground beneath him groaned under the pressure of his rising aura, and the air itself seemed to tighten.
His gaze locked onto the tattooed man, cold and steady.
This was the first time.
The first time the tattooed man felt it clearly.
That the opponent before him might truly be his equal.
A battle between prodigies.
A feral smile slowly crept across his face.