Zhao Gun's face drained of color as the aura of the Bandit King pressed down on them like an oppressive mountain, heavy and threatening. "We're outmatched..." he muttered, his fingers trembling around the hilt of his sword, knuckles white with anxiety.
"Oh, stop being such a wuss, would you, Zhao Gun?" Long Huang scoffed, rolling his eyes with exaggerated annoyance. He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing in the silence of the pass. "Honestly, for someone who brags so much, you fold faster than a cheap fan." Zhao Gun's frustration simmered; his eyes blazed with fury, the urge to curse Long Huang's entire lineage bubbling just beneath the surface.
Just then, the Bandit King's voice boomed across the rocky pass, slicing through the tension like a knife.
"WHO DID THIS TO MY MEN?"
The bandit dangling from a gnarled tree limb by his belt whimpered, trembling in fear, and pointed a quivering finger. "It was the pretty boy, Boss!"
The Bandit King's gaze, cold and predatory, locked onto Long Huang with an intensity that could ignite steel. His lips peeled back in a snarl, teeth bared like a feral beast. "Boy, you're going to regret what you did."
Long Huang merely yawned, a dismissive gesture that belied the gravity of their situation. "Oh? And how exactly are you going to make me regret anything?" His tone dripped with sarcasm.
"First, I'll break your arms," the Bandit King growled, cracking his massive knuckles with a sound like thunder. "Then your legs. Then I'll—"
"Ugh, spare me the villain speech," Long Huang interrupted, waving a hand dismissively as one would shoo away an annoying fly. "We get it. You're big, scary, and compensating for something. Can we skip to the part where I humiliate you?"
The Bandit King's eye twitched, rage and confusion battling for dominance on his face. "Boy, didn't your parents teach you any manners? It's rude to interrupt an adult."
A heavy silence fell, thick and stifling. Long Huang's smirk vanished in an instant, the wind outside seeming to still, waiting with bated breath.
"What all that talk and nothing to say? Are you afraid, boy?" The Bandit King's smug smile widened, reveling in the moment.
Then—
"Parents, parents, parents!" Long Huang's voice dropped to a whisper, raw and jagged, slicing through the air. "You want to talk about parents?" Zhao Gun stiffened, his heart racing. He'd never heard that tone before. It was laced with something deeper than bravado; it was dangerous.
The Bandit King blinked—just once—before the chaos erupted.
With a primal howl, the Bandit King swung his massive axe high over his head, unleashing fury that echoed through the stronghold like the growl of an angry god. The razor-sharp blade sliced through the air with a menacing whoosh, cleaving the earth where Long Huang had stood only a heartbeat before. But Long Huang was no ordinary fighter; he was a specter, slipping silently behind the brute like a shadow wreathed in darkness. In one fluid motion, he drove a powerful palm strike into the tender flesh of the Bandit King's kidney, a precision attack that sent shockwaves of agony rippling through the giant's body.
The Bandit King roared in torment, the sound crashing from his throat like a wounded beast, echoing off the rocks. In a twist that defied human limits, he sought to retaliate, his colossal fist arcing wildly in an attempt to crush his smaller opponent. But Long Huang was already steps ahead, moving with the instinctual grace of a predator. He ducked beneath the furious swing, feeling the rush of wind as the fist passed perilously close to his head. In a calculated maneuver born from desperation, he delivered a sweeping kick low to the ground, toppling the Bandit King, sending him crashing unceremoniously onto the dirt.
"You little—!" he bellowed, the frustration and disbelief threading through his furious voice as he sprang to his feet.
"Shut. Up." Long Huang's voice was colder than the steel in his hand as he unleashed the Ocean Wave Fist Art.
His fist met the Bandit King's jaw with a force three times his base strength, the impact resonating like thunder. The crack of bone reverberated through the stillness, snapping the Bandit King's back with sickening finality.
Zhao Gun, a stunned observer, could only watch in awe, his mouth agape. This was Long Huang—an ordinary individual with a modest bloodline, barely at the Meridian Tempering Realm of cultivation—yet he fought with an intensity and skill that defied belief. Every movement was a study in brutal precision, a ballet of violence refined in the crucible of chaotic struggle. There were no flashy techniques or wasted motions; instead, there was only the raw, calculated ferocity of a warrior shaped by hardship.
This wasn't merely a confrontation between cultivators; this was war—a clash of wills and an exhibition of raw power and a battle to the death.
But to others it was a one sided horror show.
Blood dripped from the Bandit King's nose and mouth as he staggered back, uncertainty creeping into his once-mighty gaze. For the first time, fear flickered beneath his bravado, an ember of doubt igniting in the shadow of Long Huang's relentless onslaught.
Long Huang surged forward like a wolf locked on its prey, not permitting the Bandit King any moment of respite. He feinted left, luring his opponent's focus, then propelled his knee into the Bandit King's ribs with thunderous force. The sound of cracking bone filled the air, and the Bandit King gasped, an anguished sound that reverberated through the stillness. Seizing the colossal wrist with an unyielding grip, Long Huang twisted with a savagery born of desperation, feeling the tendons snap beneath his merciless onslaught.
The axe clattered to the ground, forgotten in the face of overwhelming defeat.
"Impossible!" the Bandit King wheezed, disbelief suffusing his features. "You're just a—"
Long Huang silenced him with a brutal kick that battered into the Bandit King's throat, a blow that robbed him of breath and shattered his pride simultaneously. The Bandit King crumpled to the earth, choking, the ground rising to meet him in his humiliation. Long Huang planted a foot firmly on his chest, asserting his dominance with a feral intensity, and leaned low, the fire in his eyes blazing as brightly as the sun filled with killing intent.
"You asked me if I was afraid. So let me tell you, I fear nothing and no one." The finality of his words echoed around them, a stark declaration in the quiet aftermath of chaos.Just then the bandit King thought to himself "I now understand that saying, that there's always a higher mountain."
Boom!!
Long Huang threw out a punch at the Bandit King's head and smashed it like it like a watermelon.
The silence that followed was deafening. The remaining bandits, who had been lurking at the edges of the battlefield, froze in place, their eyes wide with disbelief. Their leader—the feared Bandit King, a cultivator at the Peak Bone Tempering Realm—lay motionless in the dirt dead, easily defeated and killed by a disciple they had dismissed as nothing more than an arrogant upstart.
Zhao Gun's sword slipped from his grip, clattering against the rocky ground. His mind raced, struggling to reconcile the scene before him with everything he thought he knew about Long Huang. Ordinary bloodline. Meridian Tempering Realm. A nobody. And yet...
Long Huang stretched his arms overhead, rolling his shoulders with a satisfied groan. "Well, that was fun," he mused, glancing at the now dead Bandit King. "Though I have to say, for a guy with such a fancy title, he really didn't live up to the hype."
A nervous chuckle rippled through the caravan members, their initial terror giving way to hesitant relief. The merchant leader, a portly man with sweat still beading on his brow, stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Young hero, we are forever in your debt! If there's anything—"
"Yeah, yeah, save the speeches," Long Huang interrupted, waving a hand. "Just pay me what you promised. And maybe throw in some extra for emotional damages. That guy's breath was noxious."
Zhao Gun finally found his voice. "You—" He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "How did you do that?"
Long Huang arched an eyebrow. "Do what? Win? It's not that hard when your opponent's entire strategy is 'be big and yell a lot. Plus he's just a normal cultivator without a bloodline'"
"That's not what I meant!" Zhao Gun snapped, his composure cracking. "You're at the Meridian Tempering Realm. He was Peak Bone Tempering. That's a whole major realm above you! And your bloodline—"
"Is Ordinary, yes, yes, we've all heard the lecture," Long Huang sighed, inspecting his bruised knuckles. "But here's the thing, Zhao Gun. Cultivation realms are just numbers. Bloodlines are just labels. What really matters is how you use what you've got." He tapped his temple. "And I've got a lot up here. And he doesn't have a bloodline"
"Even if that's true he's a whole major Realm above you"said Zhao Gun looking at Long Huang in disbelief.
"I wonder if u knew how much I was holding back how you'd react" said Long Huang as he laughed.
Zhao Gun opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, very quietly:
"...You're insane."
Long Huang grinned. The wild, unhinged edge was gone, replaced by his usual lazy smirk. "Took you this long to notice?"
Zhao Gun opened his mouth to retort, but a sudden rustling in the trees cut him off.
The bandits who had been watching from the sidelines exchanged panicked glances before bolting into the forest, their footsteps crashing through the underbrush. Long Huang made no move to stop them.
"Aren't you going after them?" Zhao Gun demanded.
"Why bother?" Long Huang shrugged. "They're not stupid enough to come back. And if they are, well..." He cracked his knuckles again. "I could use the exercise."
Zhao Gun stared at him, torn between awe and frustration. This wasn't how things were supposed to work. Cultivation was about hierarchy, about bloodlines and realms and unshakable rules. Long Huang didn't just break those rules—he mocked them.
And that terrified Zhao Gun more than any Bandit King ever could.