Haoran curved his lips into a faint smile, an expression that appeared remarkably calm amid the deadly crystal storm. The very next second, the giant ice sword created by Ran Zhao shot through the air, triggering a deafening sonic boom. The massive weapon surged toward Haoran like a large-caliber bullet—yet Haoran was no longer there when the impact occurred.
In the blink of an eye, Haoran had already shifted positions, appearing directly behind Ran Zhao's ice dragon. Ran Zhao, whose senses had been sharpened to the extreme by desperation, felt the disturbance in the air. He wasted no time; with an exceptionally sharp reflexive motion, he spun around and hurled his absolute-zero spear with full force. The throw was so powerful it generated violent gusts of wind that swept away the surrounding ice shards.
However, Haoran once again performed the impossible. He shifted to Ran Zhao's blind spot yet again, this time landing directly behind the red-haired man. Before Ran Zhao could even turn his body, a crushing blow slammed into his back.
BOOM!
Ran Zhao's body was flung away like a rebounding bullet, smashing violently into the concrete ground and creating a small crater with deep cracks. He coughed violently, fresh blood seeping from the corner of his lips, mixing with melting ice crystals. He struggled to rise with trembling hands, his breathing ragged as he muttered in disbelief,
"One punch… just one punch, and it's already like this…"
Ran Zhao's eyes reddened as rage and fear intertwined. He roared hoarsely, his voice shaking the atmosphere.
"Gigant! Dragon! Swords! Attack him without mercy!"
At that command, all manifestations of his power moved in perfect synchronization. The giant ice sword turned mid-air and surged back toward Haoran, its gleaming tip radiating menace. The ice dragon roared, opening its crystalline jaws wide to swallow Haoran whole, while the golems positioned themselves strategically, ready to seize and crush anyone who tried to escape.
"Now…" Ran Zhao muttered, the veins on his temples bulging from immense mental strain.
"All of my summons are directly linked to my mind. You won't be able to run!"
Reality, however, slapped his ego mercilessly. The ice sword cleaved nothing but empty afterimages. The colossal ice dragon bit into nothing but cold air. The golems rampaged across the ground and ruins, yet their target vanished just before every attempted contact. The dragon and ice sword spiraled through the air, chasing Haoran's spatial shifts—movements far too fast to be tracked by human eyes, or even by the mind of a division commander.
Ran Zhao began to lose his sanity. Cold sweat poured from his pale skin.
"What the hell is this guy? Does he not have an Orienzu energy limit?" he muttered hysterically.
He tried to retrieve his ice spear, still embedded in the ground, but before his fingers could touch its frozen shaft, the spear vanished mysteriously.
Ran Zhao spun around—and his heart sank. There, seated atop a mound of freshly created ice rubble, Haoran was holding Ran Zhao's own ice spear. With blatant contempt, Haoran calmly resumed eating the bread he had saved earlier, chewing slowly while staring at Ran Zhao with bored eyes.
"Is this all?" Haoran asked casually, his voice cutting clearly through the chaos.
"How boring."
From above, Yan Shuo—watching the scene from atop his golden book—felt his heart pound violently. He was utterly mesmerized by Haoran's Stellar, which seemed to manipulate reality itself.
"Can anyone really have a Stellar like that?" he murmured.
"Or is that kind of power reserved only for those born as geniuses?"
Below, Ran Zhao had reached the absolute bottom of his courage. His knees buckled; his joints felt as though they could no longer support his weight. He staggered back, slipped on the slick surface he himself had created, and slammed onto his back. His entire body trembled violently with a primal fear he had never experienced before.
"Monster… monster… there's a monster here!" Ran Zhao screamed, pointing at Haoran with a shaking finger.
In an instant, Haoran was right in front of him. He bent slightly, adjusting his sunglasses so they wouldn't slip as he looked down at the man whose mind had completely collapsed. Without saying a word, Haoran drove Ran Zhao's own ice spear straight into its owner's head.
Immediately, every ice manifestation in the area—the dragon, the golems, and the giant sword—vanished at once, dissolving into cold vapor that dispersed into the air. A suffocating silence enveloped the ruined station once more.
Haoran looked up and raised one hand in a signal. The golden book Yan Shuo was riding descended slowly, gliding through the air before landing smoothly in front of him. Yan Shuo jumped down, his eyes sparkling.
"Uncle! You're amazing! Can I get your autograph?" the boy shouted excitedly.
Haoran smiled faintly, wiping bread crumbs from the corner of his lips.
"Of course—but on one condition…"
"What condition?" Yan Shuo asked eagerly.
"Call me… Big bro Haoran."
Yan Shuo's smile froze instantly. He turned away, his expression flat and utterly contrasting his previous excitement.
"Never mind," he muttered irritably.
"Your power's impressive, but your attitude is like a child's."
Haoran laughed lightly, unoffended.
"Let's go. We still have a long journey ahead."
"Where to?" Yan Shuo asked.
"Aren't you supposed to drop me somewhere safe first?"
Haoran grinned slyly.
"Why should I drop you off? Call me 'Big bro' first, and then I'll consider it."
Yan Shuo made a disgusted face.
"Nope. I'd rather just lie down here on your book."
"Fine then," Haoran said calmly.
"But remember—don't throw up."
Yan Shuo frowned.
"Throw up? Why? Because of your annoying face?"
Haoran smiled faintly.
"Is my face really that disgusting to you?"
"Absolutely. Especially that narcissistic personality of yours. Totally disgusting," Yan Shuo replied without hesitation.
At that moment, in the darkening sky, ten fighter jets flew past in classic formation, leaving white contrails that split the horizon. Beneath those trails, liquid suddenly spilled from the edge of the golden book.
It was Yan Shuo's vomit.
They continued moving through the streets of Laskas City, now resembling hell on earth. Corpses lay everywhere in grotesque states—organs exposed, blood pooling across the streets from Black Frost's brutal assault earlier.
"Well? I told you you'd throw up," Haoran said without turning around.
Yan Shuo replied weakly, his face pale.
"You didn't say it would be this horrible… I wasn't ready to see something like this."
He vomited again, emptying what little remained in his stomach onto the shattered road.
"Try not to puke on my artifact," Haoran warned.
"It's important—and very hard to clean."
Ahead of them lay the wreckage of a crashed fighter jet, shattered to pieces and still spewing thick black smoke. Haoran glanced at it briefly before asking,
"If the barrier on this book gets destroyed and we're trapped, what will you do?"
Yan Shuo was silent for a moment.
"I'll run…" he answered quietly.
"Run? Run where? We're in the middle of a ruined city," Haoran replied coldly but instructively.
Yan Shuo pondered, staring at a corpse they had just passed.
"Maybe… run toward you. You're strong—you'd protect me."
Haoran smiled faintly, a smile carrying deeper meaning.
"You're wrong—but not entirely. Running toward me might work temporarily. But what if one day I'm no longer by your side?"
Yan Shuo looked up at the gray sky.
"If you weren't here… I'd never have made it this far."
They continued walking through the devastation. Haoran then asked,
"Do you really want a Stellar like mine?"
Yan Shuo's eyes widened.
"A Stellar… is it really possible for someone ordinary like me to have one?"
"Of course," Haoran answered calmly.
"Stellars aren't created by human hands—they come naturally. Most are obtained in the womb, through genetics, or even as blessings from nature itself."
"Then what kind of Stellar do you have, Uncle?" Yan Shuo asked curiously.
Haoran adjusted his sunglasses.
"I possess one of the strongest Stellars in history—one that influences space."
Yan Shuo looked confused.
"A Stellar like that exists? Don't Stellars have specific names? Then what's yours called?"
"Moving Space," Haoran replied simply.
Yan Shuo searched his limited knowledge. His eyes suddenly widened.
"Isn't Moving Space one of the nine strongest Stellars in the world? That's amazing!"
Haoran laughed proudly, rubbing his nose.
"Of course. I am amazing. And you know what? You actually have one too."
Yan Shuo froze.
"Me? No way—"
His words were cut off as a massive chunk of ruined building suddenly fell from above, hurtling straight toward them. Yan Shuo screamed and shut his eyes tightly, bracing for death.
But when he dared to open them again, the debris was gone without a trace. He only saw Haoran putting his sunglasses back on, eyes briefly closed—as if he had just finished a short meditation.
Haoran turned to him.
"You okay?"
Yan Shuo nodded stiffly, still in shock.
"Why do you keep wearing sunglasses, Uncle? What's really going on with your eyes?"
Haoran replied casually,
"Nothing. It's just so I look cool in front of my enemies."
Suddenly, an arrow shot out from the darkness of the ruins. Haoran dodged it by tilting his head slightly. He scanned his surroundings sharply but found nothing. Moments later, a barrage of arrows rained down from the remnants of the ceiling above.
Haoran moved with terrifying precision, dodging each arrow with motions that resembled a dance. He studied their trajectories.
"Transparent type?" he murmured.
The arrows abruptly stopped. Haoran remained alert, his steps slowing as he walked across the cracked asphalt.
"Is someone targeting us?" Yan Shuo asked, his voice trembling.
"Yes. We should be careful," Haoran replied, his expression turning serious again.
The next instant, a dense killing intent stabbed into the back of Haoran's neck. He shifted position at lightning speed.
SING!
The sound of sharp metal slicing through air rang out where Haoran had been standing.
"Of course… a coward who hides in the shadows," Haoran sneered.
The previously unseen figure finally revealed herself. A woman emerged from thin mist, wearing a sleek black modern assassin outfit with concealed tactical layers. She stood calmly, her gaze cold as ice—precision and danger reflected in every breath.
In her right hand, she held a long katana; in her left, an ergonomically mounted mechanical bow. She walked slowly toward Haoran, her stare seemingly capable of ripping life away.
"Rot," she said coldly.
In an instant, gray smoke erupted around her, and she vanished—reappearing behind Haoran. Her katana swung at blinding speed, aimed at his neck.
Haoran smiled faintly. Without smoke or any sign at all, he shifted as well, appearing at her left side. Before the assassin could react, Haoran unleashed a powerful spinning kick straight at her head.
She was hurled away, her body crashing violently into the remains of a shattered building. The impact triggered a thick cloud of concrete dust, obscuring vision as it drifted through the lifeless city air.