Chapter 284 Brutal
It was ridiculous, quite frankly. No one should have access to that much strength in their body, but Transfiguration denied common sense.
When Liam launched upwards, a massive crater lay in his wake, alongside cracked stone.
Before Liam's hand seized Winged Swallow's face, he had activated the Surging Burst spell.
A condensed ball of darkness formed in his palm, which he crushed between his opponent's face.
What followed after was disturbing, to say the least.
Ever since Liam had become a Rank 3 cultivator, his spells naturally benefited from that advancement. They had gotten deadlier, more lethal and destructive.
The Surging Burst spell was no exception, booming with power as it exploded on the disciple's face.
Even after Liam's Rank 4 spell managed to rip away Winged Swallow's flesh and cause his cheekbones to jot through his face, the disciple wasn't dead.
That wasn't ideal.
Winged Swallow opened his mouth to utter the words 'defeat' as he swung his wing across Liam's form.
Even saying the first letter of the word defeat would ensure the 'Characters' would stop Liam in his tracks.
But Liam stopped him by shoving his bone-hardened, shadow-coated, and physically enhanced hand straight into the man's mouth.
Teeth and bits of ripped off flesh flew everywhere from the point of impact. Some of it flew on Liam's pale face.
Winged Swallow's face was a mixture of horror, desperation and shock. His wing moved in to swipe across Liam's body.
The skin on Liam's hands were rapidly being shredded off as he grabbed the Swallow's wing.
Of course, the wings weren't just capable of flight. They were also devastating when used for attacks and powerful swings.
They were like razor-sharp blades that rapidly swirled around itself like a chainsaw, except stronger.
Liam didn't let go.
Instead, he doubled down and put more force into his grip… before ripping away the wing entirely!
A streak of blood left the disciple's back as his water-made wing was ripped off. It seemed as though the wings weren't actually spells, but actual bodily enhancements.
Winged Swallow's expression turned to dread as Liam flipped him around midair and did the same to his remaining wing.
The disciple tried to counter with a mental spell, but it backfired – his mental waves felt like they were doused with corrosive acid, and right after, it felt like a nail was being drilled into his head.
By now, both of Liam's hands were a fleshy mess.
Using Transfiguration alone wasn't an absolute guarantee of Liam's pristine bodily condition, evident by the cracked bones visible through his shredded skin.
Nevertheless, the second wing followed, ripped off in the same manner as the first.
Only Winged Swallow's screams could be heard as Liam kicked the disciple's back with both feet as they both plunged downwards, but not before swiping once across the man's neck with a single Sanguine String.
Liam threw away the wings like they were trash, focusing on his landing. By then, he was up 60 meters in the sky, and rapidly plunging downwards.
Though, instead of actually bracing for impact, Liam just… let himself brutally crash on the ground.
As soon as he did, more than eight of his bones cracked in an instant. Liam limited himself to a low groan.
Liam could simply heal those with his blood. Even his disturbingly mutilated hands.
But he didn't want to.
If Liam won this battle so fast and without wounds, it'd raise more than a few brows, and from the look Myriad Brush gave him, he was already under scrutiny.
Liam picked himself up and dusted himself off. In the distance was Winged Swallow… headless and dead.
'My point stands. A rat with wings is still a rat with wings.'
"Victor. Shadow Demon."
A heavy voice announced the result of the match a few seconds after, and the shadow-made Isolation Barrier dissipated.
As the hordes of spectators, powerful martial artists and clan leaders saw the battlefield, their expressions froze with a mixture of shock.
Both wings ripped off. Mouth fleshed and crushed. Decapitated and broken…
That grim sight garnered no cheers, not at all. Almost in perfect unison, all of them booed and gave Liam nasty looks of disdain and hate.
Well, all except the acolytes, who cheered from the top of their lungs.
Ugliest of all… Glorious Wing looked at him like he killed his son.
Which in all likelihood, he probably did. Disciples loved their masters more than their own fathers, and the same went for their masters.
Liam avoided the dagger-like gazes that intersect on his face. He put on a cold, emotionless look which reflected how he felt on the inside.
Absolutely uncaring.
The Seven were also disturbed by the victory. Although they expected such brutality from the Unforgiven, this kind of behavior was unique to psychopaths and murderous villains.
Which they now realized the Shadow Demon was.
That name suddenly grew a lot more terrifying in the minds of the audience.
"He cheated! I'm sure of it!" Glorious Wing shouted, wrath lacing his voice, all of which was directed straight towards Liam. "How did he kill him so fast?!"
"Lower your voice," Usan threatened the man with a sharp glare, before looking towards the Myriad. "Did he cheat?" he asked.
Myriad Brush paused.
His Characters were naturally governing the laws of the battle.
Any words exchanged would register into the battlefield and by extension, the dictations of each battle.
It was safe to say that any attempt at cheating would easily be noticed and examined.
Despite all of that… the Shadow Demon hadn't actually cheated.
"...No. He didn't cheat," Myriad Brush said neutrally, but there was a tinge of uncertainty in his voice.
A death battle was a death battle. Essentially, Liam hadn't done anything wrong.
He had fought his opponent, received some wounds, gave some back and became the victor.
"3 points to the Temple!" Myriad Brush announced to the region. Usually, a cheer would follow this exclamation, but now, there was only bitter quietness.
Usan pulled Liam to his side.
[Why do I feel like that fight was personal to you?] he asked Liam. As the owner of the barrier, naturally, he could see through it.
Liam shook his head.
[Only the strong deserve to fly.]
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