The veins on Femi’s forehead bulged. He couldn’t believe that Dyon still dared to talk to him in this way. There was no room to hide, no room to fake and definitely no room to avoid the truth anymore. Femi believed that he would crush him right here and now.

“Geb’s Gauntlet’s.” Femi’s roared. “Saint’s Rage.” His fists slammed against each other as the quaking of the earth beneath his feet increased 100-fold.

A blinding light emitted from his fists, sending sparks flying around the arena as the crowd watched with rapt attention.

Patriarch Geb couldn’t help but nod in satisfaction. To cultivate their clan’s Geb’s gauntlet’s to the fourth layer meant to step into the saint level of the technique. Although Femi wasn’t yet a saint, he was but a step away and had thus grasped the technique most suited to a saint level expert. This meant his battle power was far above that a normal Essence Gathering expert.

Dyon stood with his shoulders square. His chest was bare, but his torso had clean white bandages wrapped tightly around them matched with his usual black sweat pants.

His anger was clear. Flickers of black flames raged in his eyes even as Femi’s hulking figure charged toward him.

Dyon’s skin reddened and bulged. A heated steam escaped from his body, pushing his limits. “Demon Emperor’s Will. Act 1. Stage 3. Perfection.”

Veins of gold pumped through his muscles, reorganizing his tissues.

“DIE!” Femi’s large fists cut through the air, aiming to end Dyon’s life in a single blow.

Dyon’s eyes flashed as his back flexed. His fists tucked to either side of him, clenching tightly. Suddenly, they snapped, flying forward.

A sneer appeared on Femi’s features as he watched Dyon’s fists come to meet his. ‘You dare to have a test of strength with me?!’

There was a reason Femi was so big despite being a human with relatively low cultivation. He was born with a God level constitution that granted him innate strength at a level that scaled to his cultivation. If his cultivation was at the essence gathering level, his body would be able to cross into the saint level! And even worse? With every clash, he would become stronger because he could make use of residual energy from clashes to improve his striking power.

Tyranny’s Rage God Constitution!

Dyon looked like an ant standing before a giant.

And then.

Their fists clashed.

A maelstrom of stone and wind blasted from their location, causing a crater to appear below their feet.

Femi roared, relishing in the feeling of his blood boiling. But, he soon realized that something was wrong… He still felt Dyon’s fists connected to his…

“Impossible!” Patriarch Geb didn’t know how to feel. Who could know more than him how tyrannical his son’s body was? Just how many treasures had he spent on opening up his son’s constitution to the level it was at now?!

Femi was stunned, but soon anger replaced his emotions. “Good! It shouldn’t be so easy! How would it be satisfying then?! Eat my fists!”

Dyon’s face was completely neutral, deadpan even. His eyes weren’t flashing. He wasn’t using his energy cultivation to replenish his stamina. And he had cut off his 6th sense. He wanted to brawl. He wanted to bury this Femi beneath his feet using the same tactics he used. He wanted to feel his bones crunch under his fists and watch as blood flowed from his body.

Everyone watched as a massive, hulking man sent a flurry of fists at a boy less than half his height.

Booming rings of air flung from their clashes. Their figures flashed across the arena, leaving craters of earth in their wake.

Femi’s anger boiled. His fists became heavier with each strike, increasing in strength. The gauntlet’s that graced his arms were of the saint grade, their hardness could not be underestimated. Even a mid level saint with have issues cracking them. And yet, Dyon didn’t wince even once as he used his bare hands to fight back.

Blood flew from his fists, and yet he didn’t pull back.

He had a clear advantage in wills comprehended, yet he didn’t use it.

His soul was his strongest attribute, yet he didn’t use it.

He had Spiritual level weapons, yet he didn’t use them.

He was pissed. Even Femi’s overbearing attitude was starting to be tempered by Dyon’s unrelenting ferocity. He was a madman.

Dyon coughed up blood as he used his forearm to block one of Femi’s strikes. He turned his body, dissipating its momentum.

He threw a fist at Femi’s arm as it flew by his rotating body. The fist was sharp and although Dyon could have aimed for Femi’s flesh, he still hit the gauntlet’s.

“IDIOT!” Femi raged as his other arm aimed for Dyon’s head.

Dyon remained unperturbed, sending an elbow at the coming fist before rotating his body again.

In an instant, he found himself past Femi’s guard.

“SCRAM!” Femi roared, slamming his hands together. “Geb’s Rage. Quake!”

Dyon ducked, narrowly escaping the reverberating technique before flipping back onto his hands and sending a double kick toward Femi’s gauntlet’s.

His feet slammed into their tough exterior, but Femi had already recovered to slam his fists downward.

Dyon sensed danger. His muscles twitched even in his awkward handstand as his body twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike. But, the quake flowed through the air, bombarding his sides and agitating his wound.

Blood spilt from Dyon’s lips.

“I’LL ONLY GET STRONGER!” Femi’s voice boomed as his body seemed to be glowing a fiercer and fiercer red with each passing moment. His strength was climbing, and rapidly at that.

“I’ll show you was a true top ten can do.” Femi sneered. His fists slammed together as Dyon collected himself. “Geb’s domain. Gravity Falls. Stage 1.”

Dyon’s feet immediately sank into the ground by a few inches, his weight doubling.

“I’d like to see you dodge now.” Femi sneered.

Most of the spectators were only there for an entertaining show. But, how could Ri and Madeleine feel the same way?

How could anyone know the limits of Dyon’s power more than them, and yet they could clearly see him handicapping himself. He wasn’t even replenishing his stamina! 𝘪𝘦.𝘤𝑜

“You’re so stubborn!” Ri grit her teeth as he watched Dyon’s fists meet Femi’s again and again.

Dyon didn’t even practice any martial world fist techniques! What was he doing!

But down below, Dyon seemed to have tossed everything from his mind as his savage aura continued to build. All he could think of was killing Femi.

However, the evidence was showing more and more that that would be impossible. Because even as Dyon’s desire grew, Femi’s power grew.

A blast of red aura erupted from Femi’s fist as his power reached a saturated level. “Die!”

Dyon’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. But, it was to no avail. He was sent flying, his feet barely touching the ground with its tips as he went.

Femi flashed forward, his body moving much too quickly for his size as he appeared above Dyon. His fists slammed downward, causing Dyon’s crossed arms to once again display their uselessness.

Dyon’s back crashed into the arena floor, burying him within as Femi stood atop.

“This is the only position you’re fit to be in.” Femi sneered. “Watch carefully. This is the strength of a true top ten ranker.”

A massive fist coated in a blinding crystal gauntlet careened downward, looking to end Dyon’s life.

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