On a breezy afternoon,

  Aren and Rinku were enjoying the rare comfort of two old friends reunited.

  No tension.

  No past weighing on their shoulders.

  Just the two of them sitting beneath the gentle glow of dusk—

  walking, eating, talking about trivial things as if nothing had ever changed.

  But…

  On the land of Mount LIMPO—where Iron Dragon Temple stood—

  Today, the atmosphere felt strangely still.

  Not a single bird cried out.

  Not a single strong gust of wind passed through.

  Silence blanketed the entire dojo.

  Inside the Iron Dragon Temple, the voices of martial disciples still echoed faintly—

  footsteps across stone,

  the muted exchanges of training partners.

  And Kagu…

  He stood before the altar of the man revered as the greatest Taoist in the world.

  His gaze was calm.

  He watched the incense sticks burn slowly.

  Thin trails of smoke rose straight into the air.

  Then—

  Crack.

  A dry, splintering sound broke the silence.

  Someone…

  was standing at the dojo’s gate.

  A hand brushed lightly against the doors.

  Just a gentle push—

  Yet the thick wooden gates of Iron Dragon Temple burst inward violently.

  Kagu shifted his eyes toward the entrance.

  Out in the training yard, the disciples abruptly froze mid-motion.

  One by one, they stopped.

  No one gave an order.

  But they all felt it.

  A colossal wave of MO was flooding into the dojo.

  Heavy.

  Oppressive.

  Suffocating—like the sky before a storm.

  A few began to tremble.

  Others instinctively stepped back.

  He walked straight into the main hall.

  Each step slow.

  Unhurried.

  Unconcealed.

  His eyes swept across every face around him.

  They stared back, minds racing with questions.

  Who is he?

  Why is his MO so terrifying?

  Suddenly—

  A young disciple stepped forward.

  He raised an arm, blocking the man’s path.

  “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?!”

  No reply.

  No warning.

  In a single instant—

  His arm moved.

  A straight punch.

  So fast that no one could even trace its path.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  All they heard was—

  Thud.

  A sharp, compact sound echoed through the hall.

  The disciple stood frozen for a second.

  Then—

  His lower jaw twisted violently to one side.

  The crack of bone breaking rang out, sickening and clear.

  He collapsed onto the floor, clutching his face, screaming in agony.

  Blood dripped onto the stone tiles.

  The air inside the dojo…

  turned to ice.

  After that punch—

  One of the disciples shouted,

  “Hey! How dare you?! Everyone, take him down!”

  The entire dojo erupted.

  All the disciples charged at once.

  A piercing chorus of screams tore through the hall—

  “AAAHHHHH!”

  Footsteps thundered.

  Shouts swallowed the heavy air.

  They attacked from every direction.

  But…

  He was too fast.

  So fast that the naked eye could barely follow.

  Every swing of his arm.

  Every slight shift of his body.

  Every minimal movement.

  Precise.

  Ruthless.

  No excess.

  No wasted motion.

  One disciple was sent flying into a pillar.

  Another collapsed from a single, light strike to the neck.

  Some were thrown to the ground before they could even launch an attack.

  The MO radiating from his body crushed the will of anyone who came close.

  It took only—

  Forty-eight seconds.

  The training yard was in ruins.

  Nearly every disciple lay scattered across the stone floor.

  Groans of pain echoed everywhere.

  And in the midst of it all—

  He remained standing.

  Not a single wound.

  Not a single labored breath.

  Just then—

  Two figures descended from above.

  Both wore red masks.

  One carried a sword.

  The other wielded a spear.

  Not a single word was spoken.

  They shot straight toward him at incredible speed.

  The sword’s edge flashed.

  The spearhead tore through the air.

  Both aimed directly at their target.

  The swordsman struck first.

  One slash.

  Two slashes.

  Three.

  A relentless storm of cuts rained down, all aimed at his body.

  But…

  He simply raised his hand.

  Blocked.

  No dodging.

  No retreat.

  The blade collided with his bare palm, producing the sharp clang of metal striking something unyielding.

  MO wrapped around his arm like an invisible armor.

  The spearman did not miss the opening.

  In an instant—

  He vanished and reappeared behind his opponent.

  The spear thrust forward, straight toward the heart.

  Fast.

  Precise.

  Merciless.

  The distance was nearly zero.

  Anyone watching would have thought it had pierced through.

  But just before the spearhead made contact—

  He launched himself into the air.

  His body spun midair.

  A spinning kick descended.

  Flames erupted around his leg.

  Fire technique fused with immense rotational force.

  BOOM!

  The kick smashed directly into the spear’s shaft.

  A wave of heat exploded outward.

  The spearman was blasted backward several steps.

  At that exact moment—

  The swordsman seized the opportunity and lunged forward.

  A full-powered slash tore through the air.

  But—

  In a blink—

  He vanished.

  No trace.

  No sound.

  Only a faint afterimage remained.

  Then—

  A hand appeared behind the swordsman.

  It clamped down onto his face.

  BOOM!!!

  He slammed the man violently into the ground.

  The floor shattered—along with the red mask.

  The crack of breaking stone echoed sharply through the hall.

  The swordsman’s skull nearly crushed under the overwhelming force.

  Blood spread across the temple floor.

  Dust and smoke rose, clouding the air.

  The spearman saw his comrade crushed.

  He did not retreat.

  He did not tremble.

  He tightened every muscle in his body.

  MO surged into his palm.

  Flames erupted violently, racing along the length of the spear.

  In the blink of an eye—

  The spearhead blazed fiercely.

  He charged.

  Speed pushed to its absolute limit.

  The spear thrust in rapid succession.

  Stab.

  Deflect.

  Horizontal sweep.

  Vertical slash.

  Each strike tore through the air with razor precision.

  The force was so immense that even the surrounding wind seemed to split apart, releasing sharp, shrieking cries.

  The tiles beneath his feet cracked with every advancing step.

  But—

  Amid that storm of attacks,

  He still stood firm.

  Eyes cold.

  In one brief instant—

  He raised his arm.

  MO gathered along his forearm, hard as steel.

  Then he brought it down.

  A single downward slash.

  His arm cutting through the air like a massive blade.

  CRACK!!!

  The flaming spear was cleaved clean in two.

  The fire extinguished midair.

  Fragments scattered in every direction.

  The spearman froze—

  For a single breath.

  Before he could recover—

  A blur closed the distance.

  Thud!

  A straight kick struck his throat.

  A sharp, compact sound echoed out.

  His body lifted off the ground, hurled across the training hall and straight into the inner chamber beyond.

  BOOM!!!

  The doors of Kagu’s grand hall shattered apart.

  Wood splintered everywhere.

  Dust exploded into the air.

  The spearman’s body slammed violently onto the floor.

  His mask shattered on impact.

  He lay motionless amid the wreckage.

  As the dust slowly began to settle—

  A lone figure stood within it.

  Kagu stood upright before the ancestral altar.

  His gaze was calm… yet sharp, like a blade still sheathed but ready to be drawn.

  Around him, disciples lay scattered across the cold stone floor.

  Faint groans of pain echoed through the incense-heavy air.

  He was not angry.

  He was not shaken.

  There was only the composure of a man who had long anticipated this moment.

  Before him—

  The doors of the grand hall had been forced open.

  A figure stepped inside.

  A dense demonic aura spread outward, swallowing the entire space.

  The air thickened, pressing down on every breath.

  Kagu spoke slowly:

  “Kengaku… you’ve arrived sooner than I expected.”

  His voice was steady, yet carried an authority impossible to ignore.

  The atmosphere inside the hall grew heavy as lead.

  Two monsters…

  Finally standing face to face.

  Kengaku stood before Kagu.

  Only a few steps separated them.

  He lowered his head slightly.

  But not to Kagu.

  He bowed toward the altar behind him.

  A slow, deliberate gesture—

  Like a final tribute to the past.

  Then he lifted his head.

  His eyes locked onto Kagu’s.

  “Your disciples… are quite the nuisance, Kagu.”

  The corner of his lips curled upward.

  A mocking smile.

  “If you know what’s good for you, surrender obediently, Kagu.”

  The moment the words left his mouth—

  Whoosh!

  Kagu vanished from where he stood.

  No warning.

  No buildup.

  Just a flash of motion.

  In an instant—

  He was already in front of Kengaku.

  BOOM!

  BOOM!

  A direct kick to the abdomen.

  Compressed force detonated the surrounding air.

  The impact thundered like an explosion.

  Kengaku’s body was blasted backward—

  Through the grand hall—

  Straight out of the dojo.

  CRASH!!!

  The ground outside split apart upon his landing.

  Dust billowed violently into the sky.

  But—

  Within that cloud of dust,

  Kengaku remained standing.

  No collapse.

  No kneeling.

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  The sound echoed across Mount LIMPO.

  “COME, KAGU!!!”

  His MO pressure erupted violently.

  The mountain itself began to tremble.

  End of Chapter 9