The cultist's curved blade was already descending toward Li Jiangzhang's neck—
when suddenly—
Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!
A flurry of rapid footsteps thundered through the classroom, cutting through the students' terrified screams.
Then—
BOOM!
A violent gust of wind erupted, sweeping through the room like a storm.
"Ugh—ahhh!"
A scream tore through the air, followed by the sharp clang of metal hitting the floor.
The students turned wide-eyed toward the source—
and what they saw made their jaws drop.
The once-arrogant Demon Cultist was now embedded in the classroom wall, blood dripping from his mouth, his spine clearly shattered, his upper body hanging limp like a broken puppet.
"Stay here," Zhao Xuan said coldly, his tone calm and steady. "I'll check the rest."
Without another word, he turned and strode out of the classroom.
Silence followed him.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Then, as the shock began to fade—
Chaos erupted.
"L-Li Jiangzhang! Are you okay!?"
"Wait—was that… Zhao Xuan just now!?"
"Who is that guy? Is he crazy? Some kind of terrorist?"
"No, no, that was one of the Demon Cultists!"
"The… the Demon Cult!? Didn't they get wiped out ten years ago!? Why are they back!?"
"Damn—if I remember right, their weakest members are at least third-tier ability users, right?"
"Then how did Zhao Xuan—just one punch—kill a third-tier cultist like that?"
"I… I don't know…"
While the room buzzed with disbelief and panic, Zhao Xuan was already moving on.
In another classroom nearby, a second cultist raised his blade—
and Zhao Xuan's fist smashed through his chest before the weapon even swung down.
Another one fell.
And another.
Each time, a single punch.
Each time, instant death.
No one—none of the invading cultists—could withstand even one of Zhao Xuan's strikes.
He moved through the corridors like a storm, tearing through every enemy in his path.
Within mere minutes, every Demon Cultist in the academic building had been slain.
As Zhao Xuan crushed the final cultist on the first floor, he suddenly froze.
A strange, unnatural ripple spread through the air behind him.
His instincts screamed a warning.
He sidestepped on reflex—
Paper Drawing!
A black spear of shadow shot through the doorway, slicing past his cheek before impaling itself into the floor, leaving deep cracks spreading across the tiles.
Zhao Xuan's eyes narrowed.
From the shaft of the spear, black smoke began to pour out, swirling and twisting until it formed a humanoid figure.
"A Shadow-Shadow Fruit user, huh?" Zhao Xuan muttered, his gaze sharpening.
The shadow-man lunged at him instantly.
But Zhao Xuan didn't even flinch.
"Too slow," he said flatly. "And too weak."
He didn't bother dodging.
He simply activated Iron Body.
BAM!
The shadow's punch landed squarely on Zhao Xuan's chest—
but Zhao Xuan didn't move an inch.
His master-level Iron Body and nearly 400 points of Constitution absorbed the blow effortlessly.
Then Zhao Xuan's counter came.
A single punch.
BOOM!
The shadow exploded into black mist, scattering across the room.
For a moment, Zhao Xuan frowned.
The attack hadn't worked—
the mist behaved like elementalization, just like Logia-type Devil Fruit users.
He couldn't land a clean hit.
As he considered his next move, the mist began to swirl again—
reforming into the shadow's humanoid shape.
This time, the figure looked thinner, weaker—
but now it was holding a solid black spear, dripping with shadow energy.
With a hiss, the weapon shot forward, aiming straight for Zhao Xuan's heart.
"Get lost."
Zhao Xuan blurred.
Dodging the spear effortlessly, he struck with an open palm—
sending the shadow-man flying out of the classroom and crashing into the hall.
His eyes flicked toward the corridor—
where he finally spotted the real Demon Cultist, standing several meters away, his body half-hidden behind a wall.
"So your shadow can't die, huh?" Zhao Xuan sneered. "Then I'll just kill you."
Step. Step.
In two blinding steps, he closed the distance.
Finger Gun!
His hand turned to a spear.
He thrust—faster than lightning.
Whoosh!
The air screamed as his finger pierced through the cultist's chest, punching clean through.
Dark mist spilled from the wound, the cultist's eyes going wide.
But before Zhao Xuan could retract his hand—
the body dissolved into shadow, vanishing.
Zhao Xuan's pupils contracted.
"Not good!"
He spun around—
and sure enough, the cultist had switched places with his shadow.
Now standing behind Zhao Xuan, the cultist grinned viciously, his eyes cold and cruel.
"You're quick," Zhao Xuan said evenly. "But not quick enough."
The air rippled—
Azure Dragon Fruit—Partial Dragonization!
His veins glowed faintly blue.
His muscles tightened, his eyes flashed gold.
All of his attributes multiplied fivefold in an instant.
His speed—explosive.
His aura—crushing.
In less than a blink, Zhao Xuan appeared right before the cultist.
The man's expression twisted into shock, disbelief, and pure fear.
Finger Gun.
Pierce.
The strike went clean through his heart.
He didn't even have time to scream.
The black mist billowed out once more, fading into nothing.
The cultist fell—
dead before his body hit the floor.
Ding!
"You have engaged in a life-and-death battle and taken a human life for the first time.
Through this blood-stained baptism, you've gained new insight into combat.
All abilities: +30 proficiency."
Zhao Xuan exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.
Blood dripped from his fingertip.
He didn't feel guilt.
Only clarity.
For the first time—
he had killed.
And he knew it wouldn't be the last.
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