C81 Battle of Honor

Devon, the middle-aged man, ignored Rollen completely.

His gaze, sharp and piercing, shifted to Westley as he spoke with icy detachment, "Boy, did you just say you wanted to kill someone in the Freeman family?"

"Yes, I did," Westley admitted without hesitation.

He recognized that Devon had some real skill.

But what of it?

Westley had no patience for those who put on airs.

"How dare you run wild in the Freeman Mansion!" Devon's voice was a cold rebuke, his short hair bristling with anger, resembling a provoked hedgehog.

Rollen, at his side, nearly leaped for joy.

Devon was the Freeman family's top martial artist.

His background was shrouded in mystery, having served loyally behind Rollen's father from a young age, a true pillar of support.

Yet, he was a man of few words, rarely engaging with others.

Outside of handling necessary troubles, Devon spent most of his time training in seclusion within his quarters at the Freeman estate, hardly ever stepping outside.

Rollen had only glimpsed Devon once, by accident.

As a child, he had stealthily wandered into Devon's courtyard and witnessed him practicing his boxing, shattering a specially-made stone slab with a single punch—an image that had left a young Rollen in awe.

Rollen once inquired about Devon's combat prowess to his father, Reeve, who merely smiled and remained silent, only remarking on Devon's flawless mission record and cautioning Rollen against provoking him, lest he find himself unforgiven.

Thus, despite Rollen's own brashness, he never dared to cross Devon—a rule strictly observed throughout the Freeman household.

Devon, though a man of high principles, was fiercely loyal to the Freemans. Should the family face peril, he would be the first to step forward.

Today, Westley's bold declaration of murder within the Freeman Mansion had clearly incensed Devon.

Without needing Rollen's command, Devon was resolved to make Westley pay for his insolence.

With a dismissive smile, Westley responded, "And what if I do?"

"You're seeking your own demise!"

Devon's fists quivered, his body moving with the fluid grace of a serpent slithering from its lair. The stone slab beneath his feet seemed to protest under the strain, emitting a faint cracking sound. Even before his punch could reach Westley's face, a fierce gust of wind assailed him. That single move was a clear indicator that Devon was on the cusp of becoming a Half-step Grandmaster.

"Interesting," Westley remarked, his smile vanishing. He stood tall and straight as a spear, his right foot stepping forward slightly. His upper body was coiled like a bow at full draw, every muscle taut, ready for combat.

In an instant, Westley launched himself forward, rocketing like a shell at breakneck speed, his rapid movement creating a sonic boom.

Their fists met mid-air, unleashing a maelstrom of force, each vying to overpower and consume the other.

Devon was a martial fanatic, his days mostly spent in rigorous training within the yard. With the Freeman family's affairs now thriving, he no longer had to engage in battles on behalf of Reeve, affording him ample time to delve deeper into the martial path. Unbeknownst to outsiders, he was already on the threshold of Half-step Grandmaster status, just shy of the final stroke of fortune needed. Once fortune favored him, he would cross into that realm in the blink of an eye.

Armed with this confidence, he believed he could effortlessly take down Westley, the greenhorn. However, within the Freeman Mansion, Devon knew better than to kill in the courtyard, which would only invite trouble for the family. Instead, he intended to break one of Westley's arms, a fitting retribution for the young man's bold claims.

Yet, reality proved to be surprising. Devon's concentrated power could shatter three stone slabs, but now, he couldn't budge Westley's fist in the slightest. It was as if Westley's fist was an immovable mountain. Westley appeared utterly at ease, seemingly far from exerting his full strength.

In that moment, Devon realized the truth. He swiftly shed any trace of underestimation, as a surge of formidable power welled up from his core. With a thunderous roar, Devon unleashed his might, his strength exploding in a brilliant display at the forefront of his fist.

The immense power forced Westley to take a slight step back.

He employed the Thousand Jin Descend technique, his left foot stomping down hard, dissipating the domineering force.

The ground's stone slabs cracked with countless fine lines, a testament to the fearsome strength of Mu Qing.

Yet, Westley merely offered a faint smile.

The Sky Breaking Qi from his Dantian surged forth, enveloping his fist entirely.

This Qi, the essence of creation, was no match for Mu Qing's raw power.

It was enigmatic, encompassing, intricate, and held infinite potential.

At the very moment the Sky Breaking Qi was released, Mu Qing sensed the tide turning.

This energy was neither fierce nor chilling.

It resembled the gentle warmth of sunlight, bathing you in comfort and subtly sapping your strength, coaxing your defenses to drop.

A hint of astonishment finally crossed Mu Qing's face.

But as someone on the verge of becoming a Half-step Grandmaster, he was brimming with confidence and pride.

Defeat at the hands of this young upstart was not an option.

"Open!" Mu Qing bellowed.

With his roar, all his power condensed into a pinpoint, then exploded outward.

It was like a floodgate on the brink of bursting, with only a tiny culvert to channel the deluge.

The resulting shockwave was immensely powerful.

The hallmark of a Half-step Grandmaster was the clearest distinction from the common man.

Strength varied from person to person, but few mastered its application.

This explained why some seemingly insignificant street brawlers could effortlessly topple their foes.

Technique was one thing, but the clever manipulation of strength was far more influential.

Harnessing one's full power in a single moment, without waste, was truly formidable.

Mu Qing felt as though he was on the grill, the heat intensifying.

For a man about to ascend to the ranks of a Half-step Grandmaster, losing to an unknown youngster would be a devastating blow to his ego.

This battle was no longer for the Freeman family's honor; Mu Qing was fighting for his own dignity.

He had no choice but to give it his all!