Chapter 8 Nightmare's Grip

"I don't know how thick the sky is."

Seeing Silas Thorne charge at him head on, a cold sneer curled on Vincent Hale's lips. In his eyes, Silas was nothing more than a novice, a boy barely at the fifth realm. Meanwhile, Vincent had reached the eighth realm long ago and had stood firm at that level for years. If not for his limited talent holding him back, he might've already been promoted to an inner disciple of the Azurelight Order.

Vincent stepped forward. In that instant, a powerful fluctuation of Life Force burst out from his body, rippling through the air like heatwaves on a summer day. A violent glint sparked in his eyes. He pulled his arm back and threw a punch with sudden force. His fist glowed faintly with a sickly green light, giving it a blade like sharpness.

That glow wasn't ordinary-it meant his Iron Spirit Technique had reached the seventh layer. It allowed him to spiritualize parts of his body, drastically improving his strength and defense. A strong gust followed the punch, accompanied by a deep sonic boom. It was a deadly move, launched without hesitation. Vincent was clearly aiming to finish Silas in a single strike.

Silas didn't retreat.

Instead, he charged forward, both hands moving in swift, strange gestures. His fingers twisted and crossed, forming a sequence of arcane signs.

"Coiling Dragon Seal," he whispered.

As his voice fell, the ambient energy in the air stirred, as if the world itself was responding to his call. Silas's Life Force exploded from within, rolling out like a great tide. Vincent's face darkened at the sudden pressure.

The energy gathered in Silas's chest, growing thicker and stronger by the second. Slowly, a faint image began to form-an enormous dragon, blue-green in color, coiled and ghostly, several meters long. Its eyes glowed with a fierce light. The creature wasn't fully alive, but it carried a wild, ancient power that pressed down on everything around it.

In his past life, Silas hadn't been a cultivation genius. For a long time, he focused instead on mastering martial techniques. The Coiling Dragon Seal was one of the most powerful martial skills he'd learned. Martial arts, unlike magical techniques or spells, were only effective while in the Martial Realm. Once a cultivator broke through that realm, martial skills became almost useless. Yet here he was, wielding one of the strongest known to outer disciples.

Most members of the Azurelight Order didn't know advanced martial arts. They were all given one common technique: the Iron Spirit Technique. Only a few, usually from powerful families, had learned more-and Silas was one of them.

"Fifth Realm?!" Vincent gasped.

He had already been shocked by the strength of the Coiling Dragon Seal. But this? This meant Silas had reached the fifth realm-and quickly at that. Jealousy flared in Vincent's heart. He was sure now. Silas had some sort of treasure or secret. That had to be the reason for his fast advancement.

The dragon image in Silas's chest shimmered with power.

Silas narrowed his eyes. He could feel everything locking into place. Then he pushed both palms forward.

BOOM!

The dragon burst forth with a deafening roar. It charged ahead, trailing gusts of wind and force. Vincent's green-glowing punch met the beast head-on.

Bang!

The clash shook the ground. A shockwave exploded outward, flattening the grass and sending rocks into the air. A few boulders were launched skyward, crashing into each other mid-air and shattering into rubble.

Whew!

Both combatants were thrown back by the impact. Blood sprayed through the air. Silas hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt before struggling to stand. Blood dripped from his fingertips. He had taken heavy damage.

"You actually have martial arts that powerful?!" Vincent growled, examining his bruised fist. Even though he had already taken Silas seriously, this outcome still caught him off guard. A kid three levels below him had pushed him to this point?

"This one can't be allowed to live," Vincent thought. "If he's this strong now... what happens in a year?"

Silas's face remained calm, but his arm trembled. Blood seeped from his pores and trickled down.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The blood hit the ground in steady drops, each one kicking up dust. Silas frowned. As expected, fighting someone three levels higher was a major strain-even with a powerful martial art. Without that strange devouring power hidden within him, he would've lost.

Yes-that was the secret. This wasn't just the Coiling Dragon Seal. There was something else inside it. Something dark and ancient. That devouring power gave the dragon its bite. It could sap energy from its target and strengthen itself. When Silas's dragon struck Vincent's fist, he'd felt it: a piece of Vincent's Life Force had disappeared. The dragon had grown stronger in return.

That slight advantage had turned the tide.

"I'll admit you're strong," Vincent snarled. "But if that's all you've got, you're still going to die!"

Silas took a deep breath and calmed his rising blood. He met Vincent's glare with a small smile.

"If you want me dead," Silas said, voice low but steady, "you're not strong enough to do it."

Vincent's expression twisted.

"Heh. Don't think you're the only one with strong martial skills."

As he spoke, an eerie black mist began leaking from his skin. It slithered around him like smoke, twisting into cruel, ugly faces. The air turned cold. The grimaces shrieked softly, each one echoing with hatred, sorrow, and fury. A cruel, evil pressure settled over the clearing.

Silas's eyes sharpened. His hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his purple ancient sword. The blade trembled for a heartbeat-as if reacting to the black smoke-but then went still. The moment passed too quickly for Silas to notice.

Vincent's figure faded inside the smoke. Only a dark silhouette remained. A voice floated out, full of malice.

"Boy... this is only the second time I've used Nightmare Reaping. You should feel honored. I'll make your death unforgettable... heh heh heh..."

Silas's eyes widened.

Nightmare Reaping?

The Azurelight Order was known for its upright path. All demon-cultivation methods were forbidden. Practicing one meant exile-or worse. Clearly, Vincent had hidden this secret for years. It was only desperation that forced him to use it now.

"I pushed him this far," Silas thought. "He would've rather hidden this than be caught. That means he's afraid of me."

Vincent's figure raised its head.

"A boy in the fifth realm made me do this much," his voice growled, thick with hatred. "You'll pay for that with your soul."

With a sharp cough, Vincent spat a mouthful of blood into the swirling black mist.

As the essence blood touched the smoke, the twisted faces screamed louder-and began fighting each other.