“You are quite good.” Dyon said sincerely. “If it wasn’t for my cultivation realm, we would have had a great battle.”

Dyon’s words were quite sincere. Of course, if he was a Higher Dao Formation Realm expert, he would still beat Calen easily. What he actually meant was that if his power output was equal to Calen’s, it wouldn’t have been such an easy battle because Calen’s technique was actually quite good. Unfortunately for him, Dyon’s speed was far too much for him.

Of course, Dyon could already output as much power as Calen back when he was a Peak Celestial. But since he was trying to build good relations with these people, was it really necessary to explain this?

Another thing of note was that Dyon’s analysis was only if he used his Perception like he had just now did. It was another matter entirely if he used his Immortal Sense as well. In that case, even if his power output was a level lower than Calen, he would still win with ease.

Calen’s shocked expression slowly receded as he looked toward his fallen spear with a bitter expression.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly pick it up and took out a black cloth he used to wrap its body. Just like this, a beautiful weapon was completely hidden from the realm.

If Dyon was a less observant person, maybe he wouldn’t consider Calen’s actions very much. After all, wrapping a precious weapon like this after use was a bit eccentric, but not too overboard.

However, Dyon had inherited his mother’s EQ. He was very good at reading people and was very sensitive to their changes in emotions. The only person he had ever failed to read perfectly was Aritzia, but he had never repeated that mistake again since then.

He could tell not only by Calen’s solemn expression, but also by the silent attitudes of the dwarven geniuses who had descended from the skies that this was no normal ritual.

“I’m sorry, did I take things too far?”

Calen looked up to see Dyon’s concerned expression. It surprised him a bit, honestly. On the Ancient Battlefield, it was kill or be killed. Emotions like love, happiness, or even this concern, were incredibly rare. Even fathers and mothers didn’t spare such thoughts toward their own children for the sake helping them grow stronger.

So, Dyon’s thoughtfulness was completely foreign to him. It caused him to feel an emotion that was terribly hard to explain.

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Calen shook his head with a small, pained smile. “It’s a great shame to lose one’s weapon in battle. This spear isn’t just a piece of metal, it’s my brother. Letting it go due to a temporary moment of pain is unacceptable. Until I’m worthy of fighting alongside him again, I won’t unsheathe him.”

Hearing these words, Dyon gained a deeper understanding of dwarven culture. Maybe they treated their weapons the same way elves treated their beast companions.

It could be said to be Dyon’s fault for being unaware of such a thing. He had only meant to defeat Calen while both maintaining the latter’s dignity and showing his off his combat prowess. Unfortunately, it seemed he completely failed in his first goal.

After putting his brother away, Calen smiled brightly as though nothing had happened.

“Thank you. If not for you, I’d be unaware of this weakness of mine.” He scratched the back of his head. “I’m a bit embarrassed now. I challenged you to prove yourself, but it seems I wasn’t worthy of such a thing.”

Dyon felt a bit embarrassed too. In fact, it couldn’t be said to be Calen’s fault that he dropped his spear. Dyon had precisely targeted a nerve that elicited its release no differently from a reflex. Why else would he feel such a sharp pain but be completely unwounded?

However, Dyon knew that trying to help Calen by trying to explain away his failure would only be seen as an insult to him. The best course of action would be to accept Calen’s decision.

Dyon waved a hand, putting on an embarrassed expression as though he couldn’t take compliments very well. This lightened the load on Calen’s chest and helped him to laugh heartily.

“I can’t promise that my dwarf race’s elders will accept you, but what I can do is bring you along. Since you don’t fear having a target on your back, I will help you. Plus, it doesn’t seem that you’ll have much trouble considering your strength.”

Dyon nodded, allowing Calen to lead him away while leaving the once bustling bazaar in complete silence.

Though Dyon didn’t know the significance of defeating Calen, how could these few not? For this youth to be able to speak for the dwarven youths, and for not a single other dwarf to step forward after his defeat, it was obvious the kind of status he possessed… The kind of strength he possessed.

Of the dwarven race’s younger generation, he was ranked no less than top 3. There were even youths from those Overlord Clans that held serious expressions whenever he entered a battlefield to fight for resources. His mighty spear was known by all.

Yet, with a single sidestep and swipe of his sword, this mysterious elven youth defeated this undefeatable entity with a casual ease.

The news spread through the Ancient Battlefield like wildfire. Suddenly, Dyon became the target for death by every Clan. Ironically, his actions took the load off of all the others who had entered, allowing them to hide and slowly mature…