The moment Rykarion stepped outside the Silverthorn Grand Hall, the mountain wind hit him in the face like a slap from nature itself. But it wasn't just the cold. It was pressure—pure, violent spiritual pressure rolling down from the northern ridge like a storm about to break its leash.
The sky had begun to darken. Fast. A second ago, it was clear. Now, black clouds spun in slow, unnatural circles above the sect grounds. The disciples in the courtyards were already forming ranks, their spiritual weapons glowing with latent Qi. Elders barked orders, defensive formations sparked to life, and silver talismans floated into the air around the perimeter.
Then the mountain roared.
A monstrous howl split the air—deep, sharp, layered with a screech underneath like glass shattering.
Rykarion grinned.
"Showtime."
Five spirit beasts came crashing down the slope, big enough to break boulders under their paws. Their fur shimmered like black silk, but their faces were all bone, horns curved back like sickles, eyes glowing crimson. Spirit-rank for sure. Maybe higher.
One of them roared, and the sound cracked a pillar fifty meters away.
Rykarion stepped forward.
Golden energy exploded around him like a miniature sun, his aura shooting up like a pillar into the heavens. The clouds above shook, recoiled, then twisted faster. His long silver hair flared upward as if gravity had decided to take a break.
Meyra landed beside him, twin daggers already in hand, her own crimson aura wrapping around her like a second skin.
"Left three are mine," she said calmly.
Rykarion cracked his knuckles. "Guess that leaves me the big boys."
The first beast lunged.
Rykarion didn't dodge. He caught its paw with one hand. The ground under him shattered, but he didn't move. His golden eyes narrowed.
"Bad dog."
He swung his fist into its jaw. A sonic boom exploded outward, tearing grass from the earth and hurling the beast a hundred meters back. It crashed into the cliffside, creating a crater in the rock.
The second beast came from above, mouth wide, claws extended.
[Skill: Dragon's Spine - Stage One]
Golden scales erupted across Rykarion's arms and back, hard as divine metal. He raised his arm just as the beast landed on him—and snapped its claws on contact.
His punch came from underneath. Straight up.
BOOM.
The creature was launched into the sky, spinning like a broken kite.
He didn't watch it fall. He turned to the next.
Meanwhile, Meyra danced between her three targets. Her movements were precise, controlled chaos. Every time her foot touched the ground, fire bloomed. Her daggers moved too fast for the eye, and every slash carried a trail of crimson wind.
The first beast leapt at her. She ducked under it, sliced its underbelly open, and rolled out the other side without stopping.
The second came from behind.
She turned. One palm open.
[Spirit Art: Phantom Chain]
The spectral chain ripped through the air like a serpent, crimson and ghostly. It wrapped around the second beast's throat mid-pounce, dragging its massive body to the side with a violent snap. The thing howled, legs flailing in the air before Meyra yanked it downward—straight into her rising knee.
CRACK.
The sound of its jaw breaking echoed over the mountains.
She spun.
The third beast lunged, thinking she was distracted.
Too slow.
Meyra ducked, then leapt upward with a half-twist, her body spinning over the beast's horned head. Her dagger slashed its eye, then her foot kicked off its skull as she landed behind it.
[Spirit Art: Blood Echo]
A red rune flared beneath her.
The beast blinked—then screamed as dozens of razor-thin blood needles erupted from its own body, all triggered by her mark.
It fell.
All three collapsed in seconds.
Meyra exhaled slowly, flicked her daggers clean with a turn of her wrist, and turned to Rykarion.
He was still surrounded.
But he wasn't worried.
The two remaining beasts circled him warily now, their snarls more cautious. They could feel it—his energy wasn't like theirs. It wasn't just spiritual. It was elemental. Raw. Refined. Ancient.
Rykarion stretched his neck. The golden aura around him pulsed harder, distorting the air like a mirage.
"Let me show you what real pressure feels like."
He raised one hand.
[Dragon's Spine - Stage Two: Golden Pulse]
The air exploded.
A golden shockwave rippled outward, flattening the ground for fifty meters in every direction. Trees cracked. The sect walls groaned. The two beasts were blasted backward, legs skidding across stone, claws screeching as they dug in to stop.
One tried to recover. Bad move.
Rykarion vanished.
Fold Step.
He reappeared mid-air—right above the beast.
Both his fists slammed down.
[Skill: Sunbreak Fist]
The strike hit the beast's skull like divine judgment.
A golden sunburst erupted on impact, the force so intense that the mountain ridge behind them split slightly. The beast collapsed, unmoving, stone and smoke swallowing it whole.
The last one turned to run.
Rykarion pointed.
[Dragon Spear - Form Zero]
A thin beam of light formed at his fingertip, then exploded outward, transforming into a solid golden spear laced with spiraling runes.
He let it fly.
The golden spear tore through the air like a divine arrow loosed by a war god. It didn't hum. It howled. The air split in its path, a blinding trail of radiance etched across the battlefield as it screamed toward the fleeing beast.
The spirit beast tried to dodge. It twisted mid-sprint, claws scrambling across the stone.
Too late.
BOOOOM!
The spear punched through its flank, ripped out its opposite shoulder, and pinned the creature to the base of the northern wall like an insect. A shockwave followed—a sharp, concussive blast that blew dust, rock, and heat into the air. Stone cracked. Runic barriers flickered. The mountain itself seemed to flinch.
Silence.
Then a low gasp from the watching disciples.
Rykarion landed lightly on the ground, his golden aura still blazing around him like a second sun.
"...Still running?"
The beast let out a strangled, broken cry, then slumped over. Dead.
Meyra walked to his side, spinning one of her daggers lazily between her fingers. Her clothes were torn in places, her cheek smeared with blood, but she looked unbothered.
"Took you long enough," she said, glancing at the crater he left in the mountain.
Rykarion smirked. "Had to make it dramatic. You know, since we're guests."
He looked around. The Silverthorn Sect disciples were still frozen. Some were kneeling. A few elders were already helping seal off the area and inspect the corpses. But most of the younger cultivators just stared—not in fear, but awe.
They had just seen a monster.
And he wore a lazy grin.
Sect Master Xuan Lie stepped out onto the upper balcony of the Grand Hall, flanked by two high elders. His gaze scanned the wreckage, the collapsed beasts, the cracked courtyard—then locked onto Rykarion.
He didn't speak at first. Just nodded once.
"The beasts are dead. The sect is safe," Xuan Lie said. "We owe you."
Rykarion raised an eyebrow. "You do. But don't worry. I'm not staying."
There was a brief pause.
Xuan Feng, still watching from the main steps, clenched his fists.
Xuan Lie lowered his head slightly, acknowledging the words. "Then allow us to see you off with proper respect."
Rykarion turned to leave.
"Don't bother."
He rolled his shoulders, aura fading slowly. The glow around him dimmed, but the heat of his presence still lingered like a furnace that refused to die out.
Meyra gave the courtyard one last glance. "They won't forget this."
"They shouldn't."