Dirk Buchanan moved with frightening speed, his hands aze with Inner Strength light spots. These weren''t ordinary attacks—each spot contained enough power to shatter stone.


    "Die!" he roared.


    The spots flew toward me like shooting stars. Each one capable of drilling through flesh and bone. Normal cultivators would be reduced to bloody pulp.


    I stood my ground.


    The first light spot struck my chest. Pain red, but my body held. The second hit my shoulder. Then my abdomen. Each impact felt like being struck by a battering ram.


    Yet I remained standing.


    Dirk''s face contorted with disbelief. "Impossible!"


    Behind him, Caleb Thorne''s eyes widened. "The Nine Transformation Pill," he muttered. "He must have taken it. No human body could withstand a direct hit otherwise."


    I smiled through the pain. Let them believe what they wanted.


    "My turn," I said.


    Dirk paled. His previous confidence evaporated like morning dew. He fired more light spots in panic, but I was already moving.


    For a Grandmaster, Dirk was fast. For me, he might as well have been standing still.


    I closed the distance between us in a heartbeat. Dirk''s eyes bulged with terror. He turned to flee, his robes fluttering as he pushed his Inner Strength to its limits.


    "Don''t let him escape!" someone shouted.


    But outrunning me was like trying to outpace the wind. Each step I took covered twice the ground of his desperate sprint.


    The crowd parted as Dirk barreled through, knocking aside lower-tier cultivators in his frantic escape attempt. The floor shook beneath his pounding feet. Sweat poured down his face, his breathing in ragged gasps.


    Inner Strength Masters were formidable, but their stamina had limits. Each burst of power drained their reserves. I, on the other hand, relied on my physical body—honed through countless battles and cultivations.


    I could keep this pace all day.


    Dirk nced over his shoulder, his face contorting when he saw me gaining. He veered sharply, knocking over a tableden with spirit fruits. The precious items scattered across the floor, some bursting on impact and releasing multicolored mists.


    He was headed for the exit.


    I leapt forward, sailing over the obstacle in a clean arc. Mynding was silent, precise—directly in his path.


    Dirk skidded to a halt. His eyes darted around like a cornered animal''s. The exit was blocked. Retreat was impossible.


    "Stay back!" he screamed, his voice cracking with panic.


    I advanced slowly, deliberately. "Running already? I thought you were going to kill me." <strong ss="in-imprint-a">Check My Virtual Library Empire (*) for thetest updates.</strong>


    His face twisted with hatred and fear. "You''re nothing! Just a lucky upstart!"


    I took another step forward.


    Dirk''sposure shatteredpletely. With a guttural cry, he poured every ounce of his remaining Inner Strength into his hands. Light erupted from his palms, coalescing into a blinding sphere of destructive energy.


    "If I die, I''ll take you with me!" he screamed.


    The gathered energy was enough to level half the building. Coteral damage meant nothing to him now—only my destruction.


    I lunged forward as he prepared to release it.


    My hand shot out, mping over his mouth and forcing his head back. The sphere of energy remained trapped between his palms, with nowhere to go—except back into him.


    His eyes widened with the sudden realization of what was about to happen.


    The explosion was deafening.


    A sh of blinding light erupted from between our bodies. The shockwave sent nearby cultivators flying. Windows shattered. Support beams cracked.


    When the light faded, a fine red mist hung in the air.


    What remained of Dirk Buchanan dripped from the walls and ceiling. Little pieces of him rained down on the horrified onlookers.


    I stood at the epicenter, my robes tattered and smoking. Blood—most of it not mine—covered me from head to toe. Painnced through my body where the explosion had caught me, but I remained standing.


    Deathly silence fell over the room.


    I wiped blood from my face with the back of my hand. "I should have used my Heaven Swallowing Skill," I muttered to myself. "Would have been cleaner."


    Nearby, Darius Westwood vomited violently. Other cultivators backed away, their faces pale with shock. Even the hardened Grandmasters looked disturbed by the brutal effectiveness of my counterattack.


    Conrad remained where I''d left him, his expression grim but approving.


    I surveyed the carnage with cold detachment. "Anyone else?"


    For a moment, it seemed like the fight might be over. Self-preservation is a powerful instinct, and what they had just witnessed defied conventional understanding of cultivation hierarchies.


    Then Melvin ckthorne stepped forward, his face twisted with hatred. "Don''t be fooled!" he shouted. "He''s injured. Look at him! He barely survived that explosion."


    He was right. Blood seeped from multiple wounds across my body. My breathing wasbored, and pain throbbed with each heartbeat.


    Melvin sensed the shift in momentum. "He''s just one Inner Strength Master! There are still eight of us left. Attack together, and he''ll fall!"


    The remaining masters exchanged nces, bolstered by Melvin''s words. Slowly, they began to form a circle around me.


    I smiled, feeling a strange calm descend over me despite the pain. "Inner Strength Master?" I asked, my voice carrying clearly through the tense silence. "Are you sure?"