Rossard couldn't help but freeze in shock. Judging by the figure before him and the uniform he wore, it wasn't hard to guess that this was Section Chief Chen from the Great Shun Delegation.
This man was supposed to be on the same level as him. According to the dossiers he had seen earlier, their strength should have been roughly on par. How could he—
In truth, Rossard felt he had already been giving him generous credit, for even though he had not yet broken through himself, he was not far from the next tier. No matter how exceptionally gifted someone was, this was still a young man after all—perhaps strong, but not excessively so.
Yet the strength this person displayed completely upended his understanding, vastly exceeding the limits of anything he could have imagined.
First of all, what was hardest to resist about a Throne martial artist was the coercive psychic power they possessed. Just standing before Covington earlier had been exceedingly difficult. Had he not activated the relic medal bestowed on him by the Federation in the nick of time and used that razor-thin window to retreat, the battle would have been over then and there.
Yet this man stood right before him now, seemingly utterly unaffected.
Even more shocking was the intense sense of oppression radiating from that tall, straight back. This pressure stemmed from an outward release of field and psychic power. For someone of Rossard's caliber, such intangible signals could be decoded with absolute clarity and synthesized into a deeper perceptual awareness.
More intuitive still, that surging spiritual impact had been blocked by this man with a single hand. In the ongoing clash, not only had the ghastly white glare failed to break through, it was gradually suppressed by the platinum-gold flames. Finally, Rossard saw those five fingers snap closed. With a crisp pop, the brilliance instantly dispersed, leaving behind only shredded wisps of air.
His lips trembled involuntarily. Such a feat could typically only be accomplished by someone whose spiritual fire held an absolute advantage.
Didn't this mean this man's power tier already surpassed his opponent's? But how could that be possible? No matter how weakened his former superior was right now—perhaps possessing less than half his peak strength—he was still a Throne martial artist. That was by no means something a fighter below that realm could contest head-on.
Could it be...? His eyes widened, staring in sheer shock at the saber-bearing figure before him.
After dispersing the spiritual impact, Chen Chuan glanced toward the somewhat twisted, inhuman figure opposite him.
To be honest, the pressure this opponent exerted fell far short of the Dongxuan View martial artist he had fought previously.
This was likely because the entity had only just escaped captivity and had yet to recover his former strength. Furthermore, over recent days, backed by abundant resources, Chen Chuan's own power had been expanding at an explosive rate, rendering him incomparable to what he once was.
Still, it was worth noting that back then he had only faced a severed limb of that Dongxuan View martial artist, whereas now he was facing a complete entity.
Tilting his head slightly, he said, "Mr. Rossard, take a rest. I'll handle things here." With that, he stepped forward.
Just then, Rossard's ear implant received a message. Scanning it, he learned that Chen Chuan had come to assist in defense at the invitation of the Federal Executive Administration. Thus, he offered a well-meaning warning: "Mr. Chen, be careful. An entity from the Blockade Hall has attached its power to him."
Chen Chuan said nothing, merely lifting the saber in his hand slightly as an acknowledgment before striding steadily forward.
Inside the White Rock Long Hall, the managers watched this scene with conflicted emotions—profoundly relieved that Covington had finally been halted, yet deeply stunned by the prowess Chen Chuan put on display.
Ryan stared at the figure projected on the field screen. Beyond his astonishment, an even deeper wariness and vigilance surfaced in his expression.
Step by step, Chen Chuan walked forward. When the distance between them narrowed to a certain point, a limb behind Covington abruptly stabbed outward.
Yet an attack that Rossard found blindingly fast seemed utterly ordinary in Chen Chuan's eyes. He didn't even draw his saber; with a casual wave of his hand, the flying limb was swatted aside, flung far outward while detonating a bursting puff of spiritual flames around him, his walking rhythm unbroken.
Covington's ashen-white eyeballs rolled. The waving arms behind him paused for a fraction of a second, and then, violently flailing those elongated limbs, he lashed out in a ferocious barrage, the radiance they carried detonating in an instant.
Chen Chuan's eyes instantly reflected the myriad of closing arms. As his gaze focused, everything around him seemed to slow down.
Then he raised his hand and pressed his palm forward. One of the limbs collided with his palm; clearly visible was a mallet-like miniature fist striking square against the center of his palm, spraying brilliant, fine sparks in every direction. Even clearer was how, at the moment of impact, his fingers and palm remained solid as bedrock, completely unyielding, while wave-like ripples rolled across the muscular surface of the opposing slender arm.
Sweeping his arm again, his hand chopped down onto the edge of another incoming hand. As they collided, the air between them was forced outward, blasting into torrential shockwaves. As that arm twisted, fractured, and recoiled, Chen Chuan thrust two fingers toward the side, striking right into the palm of another hand. Radiance erupted instantly, flesh and blood bursting into a spray as shattered crimson droplets and mangled pieces of mutated tissue tumbled into the air.
He drove his elbow upward next, precisely slamming into another limb lunging for his skull. The blow deflected it violently toward the flank, the fiery aura trailing behind it like a ribbon of scattered light.
These limbs appeared to strike simultaneously, but in truth there were subtle differences in sequence. This was partly due to the differing points of origin that caused variances in power exertion, and partly a matter of technical and tactical choice—if every limb struck from the same direction and at the exact same tempo, their advantage would be lost, rendering multiple limbs no different from a single arm.
This allowed Chen Chuan to counter them with just a single hand in calm, measured fashion. As a result, every single limb was cleanly parried and neutralized. Yet because the incoming assault was so rapid, combined with the colliding spiritual fire between them, an invisible luminous barrier seemed to spring up in front of him—a dazzling, resplendent vortex of explosive flames.
In truth, beyond their sheer number and velocity, each limb harbored a different application of jin within. The slightest mishandling would knock him back on the spot, allowing the succeeding limbs to swarm him unstoppably.
Under normal circumstances, even someone possessing comparable raw power would find it exceedingly difficult to withstand this barrage head-on. But Chen Chuan was different: every single deflection was met with a distinct countering jin, and throughout the entire exchange, he did not rely on his second self, matching force with force purely through his own might!
When the final slender arm lunged forward, Chen Chuan's gaze flashed. His hand snapped out and clamped tightly around it.
It was precisely the instant the opponent's jin had expired, and the arm instinctively tried to jerk back.
Yet in that exact moment, Covington felt an irresistible force surge through the limb, yanking his entire body toward his opponent. Realizing this, he immediately attempted to sever the arm from himself.
But it was already too late. A blur flashed before his eyes, and Covington found Chen Chuan standing right in front of him.
Next came a fist blazing with platinum-gold light smashing upward. How remarkably similar this was to when Rossard had struck him earlier—yet the power behind it was on an entirely different level!
BOOM!
The violent collision sent the spiritual flames cloaking Covington scattering in all directions like exploding fireworks. The chest where the blow landed burst open, the tremendous shockwave pulverizing half of his skull in the backwash, and what remained of his mutilated torso hurtled backward trailing drifting flames.
Yet before it could fly far, Chen Chuan twisted his hips and hauled on the arm, wrenching the ruined body right back. Raising a hand, he pressed down and drove downward with explosive force, smashing Covington's entire form brutally into the ground!
In that instant, it was as if a meteorite plunged from the sky to strike the earth. A cataclysmic detonation tore the air, unleashing a dazzling torrent of radiance in every direction. Dense arrays of fissures spiderwebbed across the sky behind him—this territory, heavily shielded by esoteric rituals, had finally reached the upper limit of what it could endure.
At the station of the esoteric ritual specialist team, the replenishers being poured in were vanishing at an insane rate, disappearing almost as fast as they were dumped.
Every ritual specialist broke into a cold sweat, their hands moving with frantic speed as they desperately stripped cracked, damaged ritual track plates from the pivot wall—where they operated like dense interlocking gears—and slotted spares into position so the machinery could keep running.
Aboard the airships high above, beams of light shone down, illuminating an utterly staggering sight: a massive, scorched crater had appeared before the front of the Blockade Hall, deep fissures spiderwebbing outward from its rim.
The managers in the White Rock Long Hall watched the aerial view relayed across the field screen, overcome by profound shock and awe.
As administrators of the City of Fighters, they were not uninitiated; someone like Ryan was a martial artist himself. They understood all too well what caliber of power was required to produce such destruction beneath the restraining suppression of the ritual.
Hovering in midair behind them, Rossard watched with a trembling heart. In their earlier fight, Covington had clearly held the upper hand over him, yet now he was being tossed about and battered at will by Chen Chuan. Could Covington's strength have suddenly plummeted?
No. He knew Covington's current power could only be greater than during their fight. The only reason for this outcome was that the opponent he now faced completely outclassed and crushed him in pure strength!
Chen Chuan stood there, flames dancing around him and his cloak fluttering in the surging currents of air. Gazing down at the mangled flesh and the twitching, severed limbs within the crater, he reached up to touch the brim of his hat and murmured:
"Is this your limit?"
Chapter 1151