065 Kill Steal?

065 Kill Steal?

The sky had darkened with heavy, swirling clouds, crackling with divine energy. A massive golden sword descended from the heavens, its radiance splitting through the darkness like a verdict from the divine itself.

Heavenly Punishment.

The skill took form with a sheer force that sent shockwaves across the desert. It was a skill built upon karma, one that delivered absolute devastation in proportion to the sins of its target. And yet—

The undead warrior beneath its judgment did not falter.

He stood clad in ancient, corroded armor—a cuirass dulled with age, yet still boasting its once-proud engravings. A long, jagged halberd was clutched in his bony hands, its blade chipped but no less deadly. His hollow eyes flared with ghostly green fire, staring down fate itself.

The moment Heavenly Punishment struck him, the impact sent ripples of divine and unholy energy clashing. The golden sword turned into a pillar of light upon impact, its sheer force carving deep trenches into the desert. The sand beneath darkened, corrupted by the collision of opposing forces.

The lower-level undead surrounding us were annihilated instantly, their spiritual embers snuffed out as their bodies crumbled into dust. Yet the warrior endured.

"Surprises one after another..."

Beneath my helm, I watched as he braced himself, his halberd raised. He didn’t dodge. He didn’t flee.

He parried.

A massive shockwave erupted as his halberd met my divine judgment, the sheer force of resistance making my grip on my sword tighten. He staggered, feet dragging against the scorched sands, but he did not fall.

A part of me acknowledged the skill it took to deflect even a fragment of Heavenly Punishment. Another part of me found it mildly irritating.

"Stubborn bastard," I muttered. "You'll make a nice punching bag!"

I’d never seen anything like this.

Parry an Ultimate Skill? Yeah, great for him. And more work for me.

In the future, I would only face just as ridiculous opponents. Again, I was reminded by Jiang Zhen’s ridiculous technique of burying underground and surviving the same skill I threw this undead. If the undead in front of me had the wit it used to have, this would have evolved into a more challenging fight.

“Okay, let’s go for round two.”

The aftermath of Heavenly Punishment settled like a divine decree. The sky remained dark, shrouded in remnants of light and shadow clashing in the heavens. The desert beneath me had been scarred—blackened and cracked where holy and unholy energies had met in catastrophic opposition. The wave of energy from the collision alone had been enough to clear the immense swathe of undead around me, speaking of how destructive the collision of opposing energies was.

Hopefully, the collision hadn’t harmed anyone from my party. Dave should have reached the Floating Dragon by now, ensuring their safety. They should be fine.

As the last remnants of divine light faded, I turned my gaze back to the undead warrior standing before me.

He was still intact.

I couldn't discount the possibility this undead had some innate abilities that allowed him to tank an Ultimate Skill where he should be plenty vulnerable to. Or maybe it was an effect of equipment? It could go either way...

Still, that didn't mean the undead gad been unscathed.

Worse for wear, yes, but very much still there. His ancient cuirass had deep cracks, his skeletal frame bore signs of strain, and the green fire in his eyes flickered erratically—but he had survived Heavenly Punishment.

Stronger than the Heavenly Demon? Yeah.

More difficult to deal with? Not really.

The key difference was simple. The Heavenly Demon had thought. He had schemes, unpredictability, and, most importantly, intelligence. This undead? Not so much.

Not ot mention, I was handicapped when fighting the Heavenly Demon.

"RAAAAAGH—!"

With an incoherent roar, the undead lunged at me, halberd swinging in a wide arc. I met it head-on, raising Silver Steel to parry the attack. Sparks erupted from the clash, the weight behind the blow forcing me to adjust my stance.

I wasn’t wearing my Lofty Jade Proposition cosmetic item this time.

Instead, I was clad in full gear—helm to greaves, every piece optimized for battle. The weight felt familiar, comfortable, like stepping into an old routine. The inherited memories from David_69 were a great boon that allowed me to perform at a level I'd never be able to imagine.

The undead pulled back, shifting into another stance. It wasn’t refined—it lacked the precision of a true warrior—but it had instinct. It had power.

That was fine. I had my stats.

I met his next attack with a sidestep, deflecting the halberd just enough to disrupt his momentum. Another strike, another parry—my movements grew sharper, faster, more efficient. This was exactly what I needed.

This was the best training I could ask for.

Sparring with Dave whenever I could was getting stale, anyway.

The undead moved like a force of nature—relentless, unyielding, and utterly devoid of hesitation. It was all stats now.

No tricks. No complicated techniques. Just a direct contest of raw numbers.

The moment I deflected his halberd, he came at me again, adjusting his stance with unnatural precision. The weight behind his swings was immense—every strike carrying a force that could shatter boulders and cleave through weaker cultivators like paper.

But I wasn’t weak.

I held my ground, bracing my stance and meeting his attack head-on.

CLANG!

The impact sent a shockwave through the scorched desert. Sand burst into the air around us, disturbed by the sheer force of the collision. My arm trembled under the weight of the halberd, but I stood firm, Silver Steel locked against his weapon.

He pushed forward. I pushed back.

No fancy footwork. No intricate strategies. Just power against power.

I relied solely on Divine Sense to track his every move. No need for unnecessary reactions. Just slight shifts, tiny adjustments—just enough to neutralize the attack while keeping my own balance.

When he swung from above, I sidestepped.

When he aimed for my legs, I lifted a foot just enough for the blade to scrape harmlessly against my greaves.

When he tried to throw me off with a sudden feint, I had already seen through it.

It was pure stat competition.

He had endurance, but so did I. He had monstrous strength, but mine wasn’t lacking. His speed was formidable, but my reactions were sharper.

The undead suddenly shifted. The green fire in his sockets flared as he executed a technique.

The halberd twisted mid-swing, shifting momentum in an instant—an overhead strike that transformed into a sweeping slash in the blink of an eye.

I moved before it finished.

Not with another parry. Not with a counterattack.

I simply stepped to the side.

The halberd carved through the air where I had been a split second ago. His own momentum betrayed him, leaving him open for just a moment.

I could have struck back.

I didn’t.

I wanted to see how far this could go. How much I could push this battle without relying on skills, buffs, or any external advantages.

The undead roared in frustration, correcting his stance, and came at me again.

Fine. Let’s keep going.

Slowly, but surely… I was making steady progress.

The battle had become effortless.

A flick of the wrist.

A slight shift in stance.

The halberd came down like an executioner’s blade, but I barely needed to move. A simple flick sent it gliding harmlessly across my Silver Steel. The undead staggered, his momentum wasted.

It had taken me some time, but I was growing fluent in parrying—not just blocking, but redirecting. Turning an enemy’s force against them.

This was it.

This was the peak of efficiency.

The undead snarled, green flames flickering in his sockets as he adjusted his grip and swung again. I didn’t even flinch. I guided his attack away with nothing but precision, the halberd scraping harmlessly against my blade.

Stronger enemies always had a breaking point. If I kept this up, he’d wear himself out before I did—though considering he was undead, that might take a while.

Then, out of nowhere—

Silver arrows of moonlight rained down from above, homing in on my opponent.

I tensed.

In the next moment, the undead burst into blue flames. He howled, thrashing violently as the fire consumed him from the inside out.

I looked up.

Gliding down from the darkened sky was a silver-haired, youthful-looking man. His robes shimmered with the faint glow of the moon. He moved like a spirit, untouched by gravity, with an elegance that screamed power.

Trailing behind him was an older, more reserved man, his posture deferential, yet his presence no less imposing.

I immediately scanned them with Divine Sense.

The young-looking man? Stronger than the undead I had just fought.

The elder beside him? As strong as the Heavenly Demon inside Gu Jie.

I exhaled, tucking my sword and helmet into my Item Box.

If this was going to be a conversation rather than a fight, I might as well play the part.

I clasped my hands, straightened my back, and executed a perfect martial artist’s bow.

"Greetings, fellow Daoist," I said smoothly, voice even and respectful. "How may I help you?"

Hah~!

I think being a cultivator wasn’t so hard after all.

Honestly? I am kind of pissed...

The silver-haired man in front of me exchanged a glance with the elder at his side.

I could tell they were speaking. Not with words, but through Qi Speech—a supernatural form of communication moving at speeds beyond normal comprehension.

A split second later, the older man stepped forward.

"I am Bai Bai of the White Clan," he declared aggressively, his tone carrying the weight of authority. "And before you stands the Grand Patriarch of the White Clan, Bai Rong."

Bai?

Ah.

Of course.

Why did cultivators always have to be so damn aggressive with introductions? Couldn’t we all just nod and exchange names like normal people?

I offered a polite bow and responded, "It is an honor. I am Da Wei." They had no particular reaction. It seemed my deeds in Yellow Dragon City were yet to reach the rest of the Empire.

I could feel Bai Rong’s gaze boring into me, his expression was that of half-arrogance and half-expectation.

I knew this type. The kind who measured people not by words, but by presence.

Well, I had presence in spades.

With a flick of my wrist, I reached into my Item Box and slapped on my cosmetic item—Lofty Jade Proposition.

A casual show of power? Maybe.

A demonstration of style? Absolutely.

My previously armored figure was now clad in the flowing, elegant robes of an immortal scholar, their pristine jade fabric shimmering ever so slightly.

For just a fraction of a second, I caught the barest twitch on Bai Bai’s face.

Bai Rong, to his credit, controlled his expression rather well.

In the past few weeks, I had Ren Xun drill me on everything he knew about the Grand Ascension Empire—its factions, its politics, and especially its great powers.

So did the White Clan and the surname Bai ring a bell?

Yes. Absolutely.

The Yellow Dragon City Festival had hosted the Seven Grand Clans. The White Clan was among them.

To the rest of the Empire, the Seven Grand Clans were known by a different name—The Seven Imperial Houses.

According to Ren Xun, each of these clans held immense power, ruling over one of the Empire’s seven continents.

And the White Clan?

They ruled the Evernight Continent.

That meant Bai Rong was a man of considerable influence.

The grand patriarch’s gaze bore into me with thinly veiled suspicion.

“What’s your affiliation? And where are you going?”

Oh, none of your damn business.

Of course, I couldn’t just say that. I might be a little harsh on Gu Jie sometimes—like that one time I shooed her while I was playing in an arcade stall—but this wasn’t exactly an attitude that the self-important cultivators of the world would take kindly to.

I considered my options.

I could say Isolation Path Sect, but from what I remembered, the White Clan and Isolation Path Sect weren’t exactly vibing well back in Riverfall considering the rumors.

I could say Ren Jin’s name, but that might be misconstrued as support for an imperial prince.

Yeah, no thanks.

In the end, I decided to keep things casual.

I clasped my hands together and smiled. "I am but a humble adventurer, traveling wherever the wind takes me. As for my destination? The imperial capital, of course. A place of culture, history, and opportunity—what traveler wouldn’t want to see it?"

I spoke with an easy confidence, keeping my tone light-hearted yet firm.

It was the perfect answer.

Technically true, entirely noncommittal, and most importantly—none of his business.

Among the eight continents of the Grand Ascension Empire, Riverfall was the newest addition.

Each continent had a clan that was considered its central powerhouse…

Except for Riverfall.

The Seven Grand Clans were, in essence, offshoot branch clans of the major imperial clans—created as a way to compete by proxy over who would rule Riverfall.

In another perspective…

Ren Jin could also be a proxy of the Emperor, sent to compete for the same prize.

It made me wonder—just how much power did the Emperor truly have?

A man capable of keeping the Seven Imperial Houses in check? Managing the constant power struggle between the clans, sects, and nobles of the empire?

I could barely imagine it.

These thoughts ran through my mind as Bai Rong and I stared at each other.

For a long, tense moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, finally, Bai Rong said, “The imperial capital is truly a destination worth visiting.”

A neutral statement. A neutral ending.

Just like that, the two of them floated away and disappeared into the sky.

I was a little salty, though.

Dude just stole my kill.

I sighed and shook my head. Whatever.

Back to the Floating Dragon, then.