Chapter 86: The Art of the Decisive Strike, Part 1

"Step aside, or die!"

A youth appeared at the shattered entrance of the gates, walking forward with a cold, resolute voice. Though his pace seemed unhurried, his speed was astonishing; in just a few strides, he covered dozens of meters, giving the illusion of instantaneous movement.

"Shortening the ground between steps? How... how is that possible?" Zhang Hai cried out in disbelief, then frowned, his tone tinged with wonder. "So much power at such a young age—no wonder he's so arrogant. Who knows where he learned these tricks to deceive others? If he really wants to impersonate a master, he should at least keep his strength hidden. At most, he's at the peak of the martial novice level, barely four thousand ank of force. To think he can challenge the martial master realm—he's grossly overestimating himself."

Seeing through Lekai's strength, Zhang Hai could not help but chuckle, secretly embarrassed by his initial panic. Tricks and illusions might confuse appearances, but only true power is the foundation. In martial arts, each level is worlds apart in strength. To overcome such a gap is no easy matter.

Both Zhang Hai and his brother Zhang Lang were experts at the martial master realm. Zhang Hai possessed around six thousand ank of force—almost double that of Lekai. In theory, such a disparity was insurmountable, like a fifteen-year-old boy compared to a robust man of thirty; appearances might deceive, but the strength was incomparable.

"Step aside, or die!" Lekai repeated his words, his handsome face frosted with a cold aura. Already pale from makeup, he now seemed even more chilling, sending shivers through those who beheld him. Those bottomless, abyss-like eyes appeared to contain an ancient, thousand-year cold, as if they could freeze all things in the world.

Zhang Hai was stunned, then burst out laughing. "Lekai, are all wasteland folk so idiotic? Or have you lived so long in the radiation zone that your brain has rotted? Don't you know, according to Imperial law, trespassing on private land—even as an Academy student—gives me the right to kill you."

From inside, Zhang Ba shouted out wildly, "Zhang Hai, why waste words on a lowly wastelander? Just cripple him for me!"

"Yes, young master." Zhang Hai habitually turned and bowed to Zhang Ba—a reflex ingrained over years, like a loyal dog wagging its tail whenever its master calls. It was a natural, automatic gesture.

Ordinarily, such actions were nothing; the Zhang brothers repeated them dozens of times each day. But at this moment, facing Lekai the slayer, Zhang Hai made an irreparable mistake.

Lekai, seething with rage and murderous intent, would never let such an opportunity pass. Though martial artists are always on guard, against a peerless genius who had devised the "Strategy of Play," even the slightest error by Zhang Hai would lead to dire consequences.

When hunting prey, Lekai was more focused and ruthless than ever.

His eyes turned cold, and the "Return Step Technique" activated in an instant. On his way here, Lekai had already mapped out the entire villa, choosing nine key points and devising several battle plans. All he needed was the right moment to strike.

Clearly, Zhang Hai had given him that chance.

Like a phantom, Lekai traversed over ten meters in a blink, appearing atop the steps, his roar like thunder in spring: "Kill!"

That shout was a tangible wave of sound, crashing into Zhang Hai's mind. In an instant, Zhang Hai felt his world spin, his consciousness muddled. He turned back, only to meet those icy eyes at point-blank range.

In that moment, a flash of terror crossed Zhang Hai's gaze.

What kind of eyes were these? Did they really belong to a youth? To a human?

Within those eyes, the pupils seemed to liquefy, spinning according to mysterious laws, forming two vortices with tremendous gravitational pull. Zhang Hai found himself unable to look away. And within those whirling depths lurked something terrifying, drawing him in, devouring, dissolving—

Ah…

Fear surged in Zhang Hai's heart like a tidal wave. His martial instincts sensed mortal danger, and he forced himself to summon his inner energy, letting out a roar that shattered the deadlock. He finally broke free from the hypnotic gaze, drenched in cold sweat.

Though the ordeal felt endless, it lasted but a moment—not even a second.

But for Lekai, that brief lapse was enough. The technique of focusing spiritual energy into a single beam to attack an opponent's mind had been mentioned by both the alchemist and the professor. Previously, Lekai's spiritual strength was insufficient for effective attacks. Yet, after two months of relentless pill refinement, his spiritual power had grown far beyond his martial level.

This time, condensed into a fine line and unleashed suddenly, the attack hit Zhang Hai. He seemed unscathed, but in truth, he had already suffered injury.

Lekai did not realize that the real catalyst was the anomaly in his own eyes. As he focused his spiritual energy into his gaze, something strange happened: the world around him slowed and sharpened, while his consciousness became more agile. This sensation, previously only experienced during berserk states—and then, only with clouded awareness—was now clear for the first time.

His eyes locked onto the target, like a universal analyzer dissecting every detail: strength, physique, meridian thickness, energy reserves, strengths and weaknesses, where to strike for maximum effect—

The sensation was uncanny. Lekai had always possessed intuition in this regard, but never such clarity. Yet, he could not deny how wonderful—how very wonderful—it felt.

Zhang Hai stared in terror at the ever-enlarging eyes, gathering all his inner energy into his arms and unleashing a furious blow.

Boom!

A full-force strike from a martial master’s power was no trivial matter. It tore through the air like a cannonball, burning the atmosphere and creating a vacuum ahead. Everything in its path was pulverized.

This was a reflexive outburst—a surge of all his strength. Under normal circumstances, Zhang Hai could never concentrate his power so completely in a single attack.

The massive shockwave shattered a flowerbed fifty meters away, sending debris flying everywhere. But where was the enemy who had been right before him?

Had he been obliterated by those fists?

Zhang Hai, still recovering from Lekai's mental attack, was slow to react. He stared blankly ahead, mind whirling, when he heard his brother Zhang Lang's distant cry: "Big brother, be careful, that boy—"