Grand Ancestral Bloodlines

Ryu's furious howl seemed to resonate with the Heavens themselves, his actions fueled by a will that made the clouds crack with thunder and the air split with lightning.

The moment his words fell, he wasted not a single moment. His blood thirstiness pierced through the souls of those before him, his slow gait becoming the rhythm their hearts chose to beat at.

His pace couldn't be wavered for the likes of those before him. He moved as he pleased, acted as he wanted, his every step being just as unfettered as the last.

One youth after another fell to his hands, their cheery excitement from earlier vanishing into thin air. Screams of horror and pain should have followed, but many didn't even get the chance to do even that. Each fell to a single blow, their weakness being on full display.

All of them were far beyond Ryu in age, many even beyond him in cultivation, and yet it didn't seem to matter in the slightest. The strongest of this generation, the man who stood above them all, was all too clear to see.

It didn't matter how many hardships they had survived on the Blossom Plane, how confident they had become in their strengths after several series of victories, how boisterous they had been in the face of the illusion of Ryu Tatsuya.

Wasn't he a fool? The mere scion of a long since fallen Clan? The last dregs of a legacy that had already been wiped from all that was and all that mattered?

It didn't seem so.

Fidroha, who was here by nothing more than obligation, shivered in fear, not having moved a single step since Ryu's appearance.

A youth flew out from her side, their chest being impaled by Ryu's arm.

Ryu couldn't even bother to shake them off, squeezing his fist and flexing his forearm just a single time and causing the youth to explode from the inside out.

She fell to her knees, color draining from her face and a stain of yellow coloring her pants once again. She passed out directly, hoping for the embrace of a painless death as she fell to the wayside.

However, from beginning to end, Ryu never spared her a single glance.

Blood seemed to glide off his body as though he was protected by the sheen of the Heavens. He made no attempt to side step, no attempt to deflect, and yet it slid down his skin and hair, dripping to the ground and leaving him without the slightest blemish.

The first line of so-called enemies fell before anyone could even react. A line of promising geniuses, future Kings and Queens, eventual pillars of Sacrum, were all eradicated as though they were nothing more than the weeds of a garden, plucked and unceremoniously destroyed.

A sigh rang out.

From line of ranked youths, a familiar youth stepped forward, the very same awkward yet ingratiating smile resting on his lips.

This person was none other than Tybalt, the very same odd youth man who had followed Arteur, the Scarlet Sparrow Clan member who had fought Ryu the first time he stepped foot onto the Shrine Plane.

It was odd for him to be here, to stand out like this. But, Ryu's eyes were no longer the same as they were when he first met Tybalt. This time, when he looked at the young man, he found that there was an enigmatic air around him, an enigmatic air that he was all too familiar with.

In order to become an Origin Grade Ruin Master, Ryu had to, of course, pass several tests. Those tests were administrated by what was likely the most mysterious organization of Sacrum. The profession of Ruin Master was highly gatekept, not just anyone could step into it just because they wanted to.

This organization was nameless, and their mark on history was also seemingly negligible. They were only loosely known as the Ruin Master Guild. However, Ryu was Ryu. He had noticed something about the top ranking members that many others didn't…

They all had the same Bloodline. A Bloodline that this young man, Tybalt, seemed to share.

However, Tybalt's appearance wasn't nearly enough to sway Ryu. In fact, he might as well have not appeared at all because Ryu continued his rampage as though he wasn't there at all.

It was then, though, that Tybalt appeared before him, his palm meeting Ryu's bloodied fist.

He was pushed back half a dozen meters, but he managed to stop before the snow behind him piled up too much.

Tybalt had only been in the Dao Pedestal Realm when Ryu had met him. But now he was in the Connecting Heaven Realm and somehow managed to take a strike from Ryu while only sliding back a few paces.

And yet, Ryu pretended as though he hadn't noticed a single thing, his palm reaching out and causing another one of Isemeine's suitors to fly toward him.

His hand formed a claw, drilling five holes into their face without suspense. In the next instant, they imploded, their bits and pieces raining toward Tybalt and the surroundings.

Tybalt's expression changed. He hadn't expected Ryu to so blatantly ignore him.

Disregard. Contempt. Disdain.

Tybalt wasn't the kind of man who was quick to rage, and he was even usually quite easy going. But, he couldn't help but be irritated.

Ryu's body flashed by him as though he was completely worthless, not even looking in his direction.

What he didn't know was that Ryu had every intention of killing every single last soul here. He wouldn't allow even a single one go. Whether Tybalt died now or later didn't matter. The fact he had chosen to stand in his path was already enough.

BANG!

The blade of a spear heavily fell before Ryu, but he dodged it as though he had long since already seen it coming.

His figure flickered, only to reappear atop the spear.

The tips of his toes tapped forward, touching upon the polearm of the spear with what felt like the most delicate of touches. And yet, it almost instantly froze before erupting into black flames that shattered it into pieces.

Ramir of the Hastam Clan, who had just tried to sneak attack Ryu, suddenly found himself holding nothing more than the butt of a spear.

"You're weak. You should have never appeared before me."

BANG!

Ryu's fist collided with the latter's chest.

Ramir flew out like a speeding bullet, crashing into a wave of youths that all burst into a rain of blood.

Just when it seemed that he would land heavily on the ground, his expression changed, his body suddenly shattering into the air, his soul becoming nothing more but whisps of light dancing in the cold wind.

The first Cosmic Seed Realm expert had fallen…. All too easily. And it seemed to awaken everyone to reality that this battle… wouldn't be as easy as logic seemed to make it out to be.

"I've long since been sick of your face, too."

Ryu's figure flickered, appearing before the monk of the Temporal Buddha Sect.

"I will withdraw—!"

"I won't be accepting any withdrawals. Everyone who dares to stand tall here, everyone who dares to blaspheme my mother, my Tatsuya Clan, me… Will die.

"You had better all fight for your lives, fight as though this is your last day of breathing, it's the only chance you'll have to not have the remains of your flesh dripping down from the soles of my feet!"

BANG!

Ryu's fist flew through the monk's skull, his speed so fast that the latter didn't even fly back. His body quaked and trembled, his hands reached up to lightly grab Ryu's forearm with what small bit of remaining strength he had. But, before he could even get a good grip, his body went limp, his arms falling.

Ryu's words seemed to resonate through them all.

Brazen. Arrogant. Overconfident.

There were many people who might have thought of retreating, feeling that risking themselves as canon fodder wasn't worth it. The upper echelon of the Martial Gods weren't even moving, why should they continue to risk themselves like this?

But, Ryu's words seemed to force their hand.

Human nature was a disgusting thing, often. It was they who involved themselves in a matter that had nothing to do with them, but they still felt that Ryu should be grateful that they had wanted to withdraw. Now, they felt they were right to be enraged that he was being so arrogant.

What their thoughts were, though, Ryu simply didn't care.

The more enraged they were, the better. The more fury they had in their limbs and in their weapons, the better. The more eager they were to take his head, the better.

He didn't want a single one of them to escape. He wanted them to forget fear, to charge forward with a naked abandon, to step up to be felled by him one by one by one!