C7 Rakshasa Sect
Zhao Xiaoqi looked up at the towering Rakshasa apparition, dwarfed by its massive presence as if he were an ant.
Yet there was not a flicker of panic in his eyes.
"Today, you'll witness the Rakshasa Sect's ultimate technique!"
The black-robed figure, ensconced within the heart of the Rakshasa shadow, began to lift his palm. In perfect unison, the colossal phantom mimicked the motion, its own palm ascending.
Then, with a swift motion, it struck down!
Boom!
The ground below didn't just collide; it sank under the sheer terror of the descending force.
Beneath it stood Zhao Xiaoqi, his face a mask of calm.
"You're asking for it!" The Rakshasa's shadowy palm, which had blotted out the sky, suddenly picked up speed, its massive hand bearing down with the force of ten thousand kilos amid the roar of wind and thunder.
It plummeted from the heavens!
The disciples of the Grand One Holy Land clenched their hearts. This palm strike was more than tenfold stronger than Loong San's previous blow!
Could the enigmatic young man withstand it?
"I really didn't want to resort to killing so soon..."
All eyes were on him as Zhao Xiaoqi slowly raised his hand. No burst of Origin Energy, no crashing waves—his palm was unadorned and unremarkable, a straightforward strike.
Their palms met amidst the crowd's stunned stares.
Bang!
What followed was beyond anyone's anticipation.
Upon impact, cracks spider-webbed across the Rakshasa's form. The fissures widened before the onlookers' eyes!
"No!"
With a final, resentful roar from the black-robed figure, the Rakshasa shattered, dissolving into the ether.
In silence, Zhao Xiaoqi raised his fist and delivered a blow.
A colossal phantom fist materialized, devoid of any mystical power—pure, unimaginable physical strength compressed the air into this spectral form.
His punch connected with the black-robed adversary.
Puff!
The sound was crisp, the result horrifying.
An era's formidable figure was reduced to a mist of blood.
Silence enveloped the scene, a chilling stillness. The Grand One Holy Land's disciples watched Zhao Xiaoqi with eyes wide, as if they had witnessed the impossible.
A single punch had obliterated the Rakshasa Sect's most formidable technique.
Could this be an actual human being?
Gulp.
That was the sound of Loong San swallowing hard.
In that moment, he knew his decision to submit had been the right one. Zhao Xiaoqi had merely struck casually today, yet the might he displayed was horrifying.
Recalling their first encounter just days ago, when the Divine Dragon of the Clouded Tree had manifested, Loong San shuddered at the thought of what might have been...
"Thirteen..."
High above, another figure in a black robe huddled within its folds, his face hidden, but Zhao Xiaoqi could see him shaking.
Zhao Xiaoqi's extraordinary physique granted him such acute hearing that he could make out the other black-robed figure whispering the word "Thirteen."
Although the significance was lost on Zhao Xiaoqi.
But had Loong San or an elder from the Grand One Holy Land overheard, they would have been taken aback.
The Rakshasa Sect operated without real names, only code names.
The strongest bore the number one, the next strongest number two, and so on.
Number thirteen indicated a formidable enforcer, the thirteenth most fearsome in the Rakshasa Sect!
Legend had it that this formidable figure single-handedly obliterated three mid-level sects on the East Continent in one day!
"Thirteen... to die just like that..."
The black-robed figure's voice quivered as he gazed down at Zhao Xiaoqi, feeling his legs weaken. But soon, a greater terror seized him, so intense he nearly lost control of his bladder.
Because he realized Zhao Xiaoqi's gaze was slowly turning towards him...
"Didn't I tell you to scram and not to bother me?"
This was Zhao Xiaoqi's first kill.
He had braced himself for revulsion or some other reaction, but instead, he felt nothing but calm, as if it were no different than squashing a bothersome insect.
In that moment, he stood there, devoid of any visible cultivation energy or magical artifacts for protection, yet he sent chills down the spines of the airborne experts.
A profound fear of death gripped the black-robed figure.
"Thirteen is dead..."
"Even Thirteen couldn't survive..."
"I'm ranked twenty-seventh... Does that mean my fate is sealed here too?"
Beyond the Rebirth, each realm presents a chasm nearly impossible to cross.
The Transcendent Stage, true to its name, transcends the ordinary, especially with Thirteen's mastery of the Rakshasa Sect's ultimate techniques. Few in the Transcendent Stage could stand against him.
Yet this formidable figure failed to withstand a single punch from the young man below and met his end.
And his death was swift and decisive, without a moment's delay!
All of this, in an instant, morphed into a paralyzing fear of death, engulfing Twenty-seven and leaving even the top disciple of the Grand One Holy Land reeling from the shock.
"How powerful is this guy?"
"He killed a member of the Rakshasa Sect without even tapping into his cultivation base?"
"No wonder he called us weak when we first met!"
The Grand One Holy Land's elders were dumbfounded.
He was incredibly strong!
The Rakshasa Sect's warrior, who had nearly ground him into the dirt, didn't last a single punch against Zhao Xiaoqi.
"Could he be the scion of some ancient, noble family?"
The shock was palpable as he speculated about Zhao Xiaoqi's origins.
It seemed only a family with lineages stretching back to the Primordial Era could nurture such a formidable being.
The surrounding disciples from the Grand One Holy Land were equally stunned, but their shock quickly gave way to elation.
With Zhao Xiaoqi's formidable strength, could they possibly have a chance at salvation?
In that moment, Zhao Xiaoqi took a step forward.
"What do you want?" The Rakshasa Sect's expert shrieked, retreating several paces.
The prospect of death terrified him; the young man's power was enigmatic.
"Just one punch took down Thirteen; I won't stand a chance either..."
"Damn, I can't even discern his realm..."
"Should I resort to my last resort?"
Twenty-seven was in turmoil. It was the final ace up the Rakshasa Sect's sleeve, the most potent talisman bestowed by his superior!
As he glanced at Zhao Xiaoqi, a flicker of resolve passed over his face beneath the black robe. He had no choice but to use it.
If not, he would surely meet his end here!
Like Thirteen, obliterated by that young man's punch, leaving not even a trace behind.
"This artifact was never meant to be deployed..."
"To think, such an anomaly has arisen!"
"Confronted with the waning Grand One Holy Land and an unknown youth emerging from thin air, I'm forced to unveil a relic of this caliber!"
Twenty-seven fixed his gaze on Zhao Xiaoqi, his palm delving into his storage bag.
Shortly, he produced a token drenched in crimson. The token, bathed entirely in blood-red, bore the inscription "Rakshasa."
The moment it emerged from the storage bag, the Yuan Qi of the heavens and earth seemed to solidify briefly.
An overwhelming aura of dread.
It permeated the cosmos.
"This is..."
"The Rakshasa Token!"
