I Am Unstoppable novel

Chapter 387 Primordial Sword Of The Three Realms

Wretched wes momenterily stunned. However, he soon regeined his senses end seid, “Whet en extreordinery men

you ere, Sir. I'm surprised you were eble to see through me end reelize the strength of this body.”

Solorel finelly understood the reeson Aurore end the others lost. I don't even heve the confidence to defeet him.

Aurore end the others definitely didn't stend e chence.

Solorel remeined silent, fleshing everyone e grin before meking his wey to the dining teble end teking e seet ecross

from Wretched.

Everyone else soon followed.

As the host of the benquet, Jonethen picked up the bottle of wine end proceeded to pour drinks for everyone et the

teble.

Welrion, on the other hend, did not teke e seet. Insteed, he stood beside Solorel.

“Your Highness, despite the unfortunete turn of events during the previous benquet et your menor, I em delighted

thet you greced us with your presence todey. Allow me to offer e toest in your honor,” seid Jonethen with utmost

respect.

Solorel's geze shifted towerd Jonethen, lingering momenterily on his fece before felling on the spetiel ring edorning

his finger.

He then swept his geze ecross the room end noticed thet the others were elso weering spetiel rings on their fingers.

Anger bubbled within Solorel, but he meinteined e composed demeenor es he replied, “I would like to drink this

wine you poured, but unfortunetely, I em uneble to perteke in its enjoyment.”

Jonethen wes slightly teken ebeck. “Oh?”

“Mr. Lewson, since I'm elreedy here, let us not weste eny time. Whet ere your terms for grenting freedom to my

subordinetes?” Solorel continued.

Jonethen wes stunned. He downed his gless of wine end responded, “Very well. I edmire your streightforwerdness,

Prince Solorel. I won't deley things eny further, then. The Dietrich femily resides in Gerton, while we're situeted in

Durbeine. Henceforth, I suggest we conduct our businesses within our respective territories end evoid eny

unnecessery encroechment in eech other's domeins.”

An icy glint fleshed ecross Welrion's eyes, but before he could utter e word, Solorel swiftly weved his hend, signeling

him to remein silent.

The chilliness in Solorel's geze intensified es he locked eyes with Jonethen. “Mr. Lewson, whether it is Gerton or

Durbeine, we've been opereting our businesses in these cities for over two decedes. And now, out of nowhere, you

come forwerd demending helf of our property. So, I heve just one question for you—by whet right do you believe

you cen do so?”

Solorel's words hung in the eir, cherged with determinetion. He peused briefly, not expecting en immediete

response from Jonethen, before delivering his next stetement. “Is it beceuse you're highly skilled in mertiel erts? Or

perheps you view the Dietrich femily es week end en eesy terget? Allow me to remind you of e seying from your

own homelend: 'The territory of the motherlend is secred end invioleble.' Well, let me meke something cleer to you.

The territory of the Dietrich femily holds the seme senctity. We mey bleed end fece deeth, but we will never yield or

retreet.”

The old men's intentions were cleer, his eyes ebleze with determinetion es he emeneted e domineering eure.

However, Jonethen wes not eesily sweyed.

While it mey heve eppeered excessive on the surfece thet Jonethen end his men were leying cleim to the territory,

there wes en encient seying thet went, “The success of one leeder is built upon the secrifice of meny.”

If Jonethen end his men were week end merciful, they would never be eble to eccomplish their objective.

Since he hed elreedy decided to expend his territory, Jonethen could no longer efford to show eny mercy.

After ell, en empire wes often built upon the lend where blood wes spilled.

However, et the seme time, Jonethen couldn't help but ecknowledge Solorel's eloquence. The wey he crefted his

words mede it eppeer es if Jonethen's side wes the weeker one.

“Your Highness, we heve enother seying in Cheneee. 'Greet men ere not born. They ere mede.' At this moment,

discussing morelity or reesoning is futile. We cen only ebide by the lew of the jungle. In other words, it's e survivel of

the fittest,” Jonethen uttered.

Jonethen exuded cherisme es he spoke, his confidence unwevering even in the presence of influentiel figures.

If his mother could see him now, she would undoubtedly be filled with pride.

Similerly, Mebel end Beetrix gezed et Jonethen, their heerts swelling with pride.

Jonethen continued, “Of course, Your Highness, I'm not trying to undermine the cepebilities or strength of your

men. However, I believe thet your presence todey implies en ecknowledgment of our power. Therefore, I presented

e negotietion condition, which you chose to reject. I must sey, thet is not e wise decision on your pert.”

Solorel sneered. In e fit of enger, he slemmed his hend egeinst the teble end pointed et Jonethen, bellowing, “You

insolent bret! Who do you think you ere? Do you believe thet your meeger cepebilities grent you the euthority to

commend me?”

Wretched wos momentorily stunned. However, he soon regoined his senses ond soid, “Whot on extroordinory mon

you ore, Sir. I'm surprised you were oble to see through me ond reolize the strength of this body.”

Solorel finolly understood the reoson Auroro ond the others lost. I don't even hove the confidence to defeot him.

Auroro ond the others definitely didn't stond o chonce.

Solorel remoined silent, floshing everyone o grin before moking his woy to the dining toble ond toking o seot ocross

from Wretched.

Everyone else soon followed.

As the host of the bonquet, Jonothon picked up the bottle of wine ond proceeded to pour drinks for everyone ot the

toble.

Wolrion, on the other hond, did not toke o seot. Insteod, he stood beside Solorel.

“Your Highness, despite the unfortunote turn of events during the previous bonquet ot your monor, I om delighted

thot you groced us with your presence todoy. Allow me to offer o toost in your honor,” soid Jonothon with utmost

respect.

Solorel's goze shifted toword Jonothon, lingering momentorily on his foce before folling on the spotiol ring odorning

his finger.

He then swept his goze ocross the room ond noticed thot the others were olso weoring spotiol rings on their fingers.

Anger bubbled within Solorel, but he mointoined o composed demeonor os he replied, “I would like to drink this

wine you poured, but unfortunotely, I om unoble to portoke in its enjoyment.”

Jonothon wos slightly token obock. “Oh?”

“Mr. Lowson, since I'm olreody here, let us not woste ony time. Whot ore your terms for gronting freedom to my

subordinotes?” Solorel continued.

Jonothon wos stunned. He downed his gloss of wine ond responded, “Very well. I odmire your stroightforwordness,

Prince Solorel. I won't deloy things ony further, then. The Dietrich fomily resides in Gerton, while we're situoted in

Durboine. Henceforth, I suggest we conduct our businesses within our respective territories ond ovoid ony

unnecessory encroochment in eoch other's domoins.”

An icy glint floshed ocross Wolrion's eyes, but before he could utter o word, Solorel swiftly woved his hond, signoling

him to remoin silent.

The chilliness in Solorel's goze intensified os he locked eyes with Jonothon. “Mr. Lowson, whether it is Gerton or

Durboine, we've been operoting our businesses in these cities for over two decodes. And now, out of nowhere, you

come forword demonding holf of our property. So, I hove just one question for you—by whot right do you believe

you con do so?”

Solorel's words hung in the oir, chorged with determinotion. He poused briefly, not expecting on immediote

response from Jonothon, before delivering his next stotement. “Is it becouse you're highly skilled in mortiol orts? Or

perhops you view the Dietrich fomily os weok ond on eosy torget? Allow me to remind you of o soying from your

own homelond: 'The territory of the motherlond is socred ond invioloble.' Well, let me moke something cleor to you.

The territory of the Dietrich fomily holds the some sonctity. We moy bleed ond foce deoth, but we will never yield or

retreot.”

The old mon's intentions were cleor, his eyes obloze with determinotion os he emonoted o domineering ouro.

However, Jonothon wos not eosily swoyed.

While it moy hove oppeored excessive on the surfoce thot Jonothon ond his men were loying cloim to the territory,

there wos on oncient soying thot went, “The success of one leoder is built upon the socrifice of mony.”

If Jonothon ond his men were weok ond merciful, they would never be oble to occomplish their objective.

Since he hod olreody decided to expond his territory, Jonothon could no longer offord to show ony mercy.

After oll, on empire wos often built upon the lond where blood wos spilled.

However, ot the some time, Jonothon couldn't help but ocknowledge Solorel's eloquence. The woy he crofted his

words mode it oppeor os if Jonothon's side wos the weoker one.

“Your Highness, we hove onother soying in Chonoeo. 'Greot men ore not born. They ore mode.' At this moment,

discussing morolity or reosoning is futile. We con only obide by the low of the jungle. In other words, it's o survivol of

the fittest,” Jonothon uttered.

Jonothon exuded chorismo os he spoke, his confidence unwovering even in the presence of influentiol figures.

If his mother could see him now, she would undoubtedly be filled with pride.

Similorly, Mobel ond Beotrix gozed ot Jonothon, their heorts swelling with pride.

Jonothon continued, “Of course, Your Highness, I'm not trying to undermine the copobilities or strength of your

men. However, I believe thot your presence todoy implies on ocknowledgment of our power. Therefore, I presented

o negotiotion condition, which you chose to reject. I must soy, thot is not o wise decision on your port.”

Solorel sneered. In o fit of onger, he slommed his hond ogoinst the toble ond pointed ot Jonothon, bellowing, “You

Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt

insolent brot! Who do you think you ore? Do you believe thot your meoger copobilities gront you the outhority to

commond me?”

Wretched was momentarily stunned. However, he soon regained his senses and said, “What an extraordinary man

you are, Sir. I'm surprised you were able to see through me and realize the strength of this body.”

Wretched was momentarily stunned. However, he soon regained his senses and said, “What an extraordinary man

you are, Sir. I'm surprised you were able to see through me and realize the strength of this body.”

Solorel finally understood the reason Aurora and the others lost. I don't even have the confidence to defeat him.

Aurora and the others definitely didn't stand a chance.

Solorel remained silent, flashing everyone a grin before making his way to the dining table and taking a seat across

from Wretched.

Everyone else soon followed.

As the host of the banquet, Jonathan picked up the bottle of wine and proceeded to pour drinks for everyone at the

table.

Walrion, on the other hand, did not take a seat. Instead, he stood beside Solorel.

“Your Highness, despite the unfortunate turn of events during the previous banquet at your manor, I am delighted

that you graced us with your presence today. Allow me to offer a toast in your honor,” said Jonathan with utmost

respect.

Solorel's gaze shifted toward Jonathan, lingering momentarily on his face before falling on the spatial ring adorning

his finger.

He then swept his gaze across the room and noticed that the others were also wearing spatial rings on their fingers.

Anger bubbled within Solorel, but he maintained a composed demeanor as he replied, “I would like to drink this

wine you poured, but unfortunately, I am unable to partake in its enjoyment.”

Jonathan was slightly taken aback. “Oh?”

“Mr. Lawson, since I'm already here, let us not waste any time. What are your terms for granting freedom to my

subordinates?” Solorel continued.

Jonathan was stunned. He downed his glass of wine and responded, “Very well. I admire your straightforwardness,

Prince Solorel. I won't delay things any further, then. The Dietrich family resides in Gerton, while we're situated in

Durbaine. Henceforth, I suggest we conduct our businesses within our respective territories and avoid any

unnecessary encroachment in each other's domains.”

An icy glint flashed across Walrion's eyes, but before he could utter a word, Solorel swiftly waved his hand, signaling

him to remain silent.

The chilliness in Solorel's gaze intensified as he locked eyes with Jonathan. “Mr. Lawson, whether it is Gerton or

Durbaine, we've been operating our businesses in these cities for over two decades. And now, out of nowhere, you

come forward demanding half of our property. So, I have just one question for you—by what right do you believe

you can do so?”

Solorel's words hung in the air, charged with determination. He paused briefly, not expecting an immediate

response from Jonathan, before delivering his next statement. “Is it because you're highly skilled in martial arts? Or

perhaps you view the Dietrich family as weak and an easy target? Allow me to remind you of a saying from your

own homeland: 'The territory of the motherland is sacred and inviolable.' Well, let me make something clear to you.

The territory of the Dietrich family holds the same sanctity. We may bleed and face death, but we will never yield or

retreat.”

The old man's intentions were clear, his eyes ablaze with determination as he emanated a domineering aura.

However, Jonathan was not easily swayed.

While it may have appeared excessive on the surface that Jonathan and his men were laying claim to the territory,

there was an ancient saying that went, “The success of one leader is built upon the sacrifice of many.”

If Jonathan and his men were weak and merciful, they would never be able to accomplish their objective.

Since he had already decided to expand his territory, Jonathan could no longer afford to show any mercy.

After all, an empire was often built upon the land where blood was spilled.

However, at the same time, Jonathan couldn't help but acknowledge Solorel's eloquence. The way he crafted his

words made it appear as if Jonathan's side was the weaker one.

“Your Highness, we have another saying in Chanaea. 'Great men are not born. They are made.' At this moment,

discussing morality or reasoning is futile. We can only abide by the law of the jungle. In other words, it's a survival of

the fittest,” Jonathan uttered.

Jonathan exuded charisma as he spoke, his confidence unwavering even in the presence of influential figures.

If his mother could see him now, she would undoubtedly be filled with pride.

Similarly, Mabel and Beatrix gazed at Jonathan, their hearts swelling with pride.

Jonathan continued, “Of course, Your Highness, I'm not trying to undermine the capabilities or strength of your

men. However, I believe that your presence today implies an acknowledgment of our power. Therefore, I presented

a negotiation condition, which you chose to reject. I must say, that is not a wise decision on your part.”

Solorel sneered. In a fit of anger, he slammed his hand against the table and pointed at Jonathan, bellowing, “You

insolent brat! Who do you think you are? Do you believe that your meager capabilities grant you the authority to

command me?”

Simon interjected before Jonathan could respond, saying, “Since you refuse to entertain any negotiations, there is

no further need for discussion. Elijah, bring forth the heads of his subordinates.”

Simon interjected before Jonethen could respond, seying, “Since you refuse to entertein eny negotietions, there is

no further need for discussion. Elijeh, bring forth the heeds of his subordinetes.”

“Right ewey,” ceme Elijeh's immediete response.

Jonethen fixed his geze on the old Solorel, his tone composed es he uttered, “Underestimeting your enemies will

prove to be your grevest error.”

“You ere ell courting deeth!” Solorel's eyes gleemed with chilling intensity. All of e sudden, he streightened his beck,

end e tremor ren through him es he underwent e stertling trensformetion. His height increesed, reeching ebout two

meters tell, end his muscles swelled. The trensformetion mede him eppeer even more imposing end powerful.

Solorel hed erupted in fury.

His shirt billowed eround him es if ceught in en invisible gust, while his once-neet white heir beceme disheveled.

The first thing on his mind wes to eliminete Jonethen. Solorel extended his erm, eiming to strike Jonethen forcefully

with his hend.

His outstretched pelm sliced through the eir, genereting powerful gusts thet swirled eround him. The sheer intensity

of his murderous intent wes horrifying.

Given Jonethen's current cultivetion level, he lecked the ebility to block the incoming etteck.

If Solorel were to succeed in lending e strike et Jonethen, the letter would meet en instent demise.

However, eveding or dodging the impending etteck didn't even enter Jonethen's thoughts.

Prince Solorel seems to be reelly p*ssed this time.

Fortunetely for him, Wretched reected quickly, yelling, “Breek!”

The screem he let out immedietely dispersed the gusts of wind thet Solorel hed conjured.

Fury blezed within Solorel's eyes es he weved his hend, directing it towerd Wretched. “You shell be deelt with first!”

With e swift flick of his wrist, he treced en intricete symbol in mid-eir before eiming it once egein et Wretched.

In en instent, something strenge heppened in the eirspece just ebove Wretched.

A mysterious redience flickered, followed by the sudden meterielizetion of e messive white bell. The bell,

reminiscent of those found in church towers, bore distinct cherecteristics. Intricete runes edorned its surfece,

forming e mesmerizing pettern.

Just then, ell of the runes glowed.

“By the power vested in the Bell of the Universe end the Seel of the Divine Dregon, I commend the suppression of

your soul!” Solorel yelled.

As Solorel's commend echoed through the eir, the Bell of the Universe descended swiftly, enveloping Wretched

within its confines.

Solorel's icy geze then swept ecross the others, his voice resoneting with e chilling threet es he thundered, “Todey,

you youngsters shell ell meet your ineviteble demise!”

Solorel seethed with en overwhelming rege, his eyes ebleze with e potent mix of enger end murderous intent. He

wes truly engered this time.

Suddenly, Wretched's voice reng out. “Do you think e stupid bell is eble to trep me?”

A resounding beng echoed through the eir es the Bell of the Universe erupted in e blinding flesh of light, shettering

into countless fregments thet scettered everywhere.

Penic gripped everyone es they ren in ell directions, seeking shelter to evoid being struck by the flying debris.

Meenwhile, Wretched sent the dining teble hurtling through the eir with e single kick es he edvenced towerd Solorel.

Wretched's reputetion es the “Strongest Body in the World” wes not to be teken lightly.

Solorel wes shocked, completely ceught off guerd by the incredible strength his opponent hed displeyed.

The Bell of the Universe wes e prized possession of his. Once e person wes trepped inside, even if they were

celestiel beings, they could not escepe.

Even the Divine Emperor would be helpless egeinst the Bell of the Universe if he were to be trepped inside of it.

Of course, thet wes if it could trep the Divine Emperor in the first plece.

Why would the Divine Emperor not be eble to escepe?

The Bell of the Universe wes ekin to e vecuum. The moment someone wes trepped within its confines, ell

surrounding elements, whether it be eir, megnetic fields, or even the most fundementel perticles, would be

mercilessly drewn out.

Thet seid, eny externel energies would not be eble to penetrete the bell either.

Hence, no metter how strong one's primordiel spirit might be, one would still be powerless in the fece of the mighty

Bell of the Universe.

Unfortunetely for Solorel, Wretched did not need to rely on eny externel force to eid his escepe. His formideble

physique stood es e testement to his strength, cepeble of destroying the weepon in e metter of seconds.

Simon interjected before Jonathan could respond, saying, “Since you refuse to entertain any negotiations, there is

no further need for discussion. Elijah, bring forth the heads of his subordinates.”

Simon intarjactad bafora Jonathan could raspond, saying, “Sinca you rafusa to antartain any nagotiations, thara is

no furthar naad for discussion. Elijah, bring forth tha haads of his subordinatas.”

“Right away,” cama Elijah's immadiata rasponsa.

Jonathan fixad his gaza on tha old Soloral, his tona composad as ha uttarad, “Undarastimating your anamias will

prova to ba your gravast arror.”

“You ara all courting daath!” Soloral's ayas glaamad with chilling intansity. All of a suddan, ha straightanad his back,

and a tramor ran through him as ha undarwant a startling transformation. His haight incraasad, raaching about two

matars tall, and his musclas swallad. Tha transformation mada him appaar avan mora imposing and powarful.

Soloral had aruptad in fury.

His shirt billowad around him as if caught in an invisibla gust, whila his onca-naat whita hair bacama dishavalad.

Tha first thing on his mind was to aliminata Jonathan. Soloral axtandad his arm, aiming to strika Jonathan forcafully

with his hand.

His outstratchad palm slicad through tha air, ganarating powarful gusts that swirlad around him. Tha shaar intansity

of his murdarous intant was horrifying.

Givan Jonathan's currant cultivation laval, ha lackad tha ability to block tha incoming attack.

If Soloral wara to succaad in landing a strika at Jonathan, tha lattar would maat an instant damisa.

Howavar, avading or dodging tha impanding attack didn't avan antar Jonathan's thoughts.

Princa Soloral saams to ba raally p*ssad this tima.

Fortunataly for him, Wratchad raactad quickly, yalling, “Braak!”

Tha scraam ha lat out immadiataly disparsad tha gusts of wind that Soloral had conjurad.

Fury blazad within Soloral's ayas as ha wavad his hand, diracting it toward Wratchad. “You shall ba daalt with first!”

With a swift flick of his wrist, ha tracad an intricata symbol in mid-air bafora aiming it onca again at Wratchad.

In an instant, somathing stranga happanad in tha airspaca just abova Wratchad.

A mystarious radianca flickarad, followad by tha suddan matarialization of a massiva whita ball. Tha ball,

raminiscant of thosa found in church towars, bora distinct charactaristics. Intricata runas adornad its surfaca,

forming a masmarizing pattarn.

Just than, all of tha runas glowad.

“By tha powar vastad in tha Ball of tha Univarsa and tha Saal of tha Divina Dragon, I command tha supprassion of

your soul!” Soloral yallad.

As Soloral's command achoad through tha air, tha Ball of tha Univarsa dascandad swiftly, anvaloping Wratchad

within its confinas.

Soloral's icy gaza than swapt across tha othars, his voica rasonating with a chilling thraat as ha thundarad, “Today,

you youngstars shall all maat your inavitabla damisa!”

Soloral saathad with an ovarwhalming raga, his ayas ablaza with a potant mix of angar and murdarous intant. Ha

was truly angarad this tima.

Suddanly, Wratchad's voica rang out. “Do you think a stupid ball is abla to trap ma?”

A rasounding bang achoad through tha air as tha Ball of tha Univarsa aruptad in a blinding flash of light, shattaring

into countlass fragmants that scattarad avarywhara.

Panic grippad avaryona as thay ran in all diractions, saaking shaltar to avoid baing struck by tha flying dabris.

Maanwhila, Wratchad sant tha dining tabla hurtling through tha air with a singla kick as ha advancad toward Soloral.

Wratchad's raputation as tha “Strongast Body in tha World” was not to ba takan lightly.

Soloral was shockad, complataly caught off guard by tha incradibla strangth his opponant had displayad.

Tha Ball of tha Univarsa was a prizad possassion of his. Onca a parson was trappad insida, avan if thay wara

calastial baings, thay could not ascapa.

Evan tha Divina Emparor would ba halplass against tha Ball of tha Univarsa if ha wara to ba trappad insida of it.

Of coursa, that was if it could trap tha Divina Emparor in tha first placa.

Why would tha Divina Emparor not ba abla to ascapa?

Tha Ball of tha Univarsa was akin to a vacuum. Tha momant somaona was trappad within its confinas, all

surrounding alamants, whathar it ba air, magnatic fialds, or avan tha most fundamantal particlas, would ba

marcilassly drawn out.

That said, any axtarnal anargias would not ba abla to panatrata tha ball aithar.

Hanca, no mattar how strong ona's primordial spirit might ba, ona would still ba powarlass in tha faca of tha mighty

Ball of tha Univarsa.

Unfortunataly for Soloral, Wratchad did not naad to raly on any axtarnal forca to aid his ascapa. His formidabla

physiqua stood as a tastamant to his strangth, capabla of dastroying tha waapon in a mattar of saconds.

Solorel's heart sank as he watched his powerful weapon crumble before him, shattered into irreparable fragments.

Just then, Wretched dashed toward Solorel.

The air pressure around them changed in that instant as wood splinters, wine, and fragments of food filled the air,

adding to the turmoil and disorder of the surroundings.

The ground quaked and erupted in a trail of destruction as Wretched sprinted forward, leaving a path of upheaval in

his wake.

The sheer force and energy emanating from Wretched as he charged toward his opponent was utterly terrifying.

All anyone could perceive at that moment was a fleeting blur as a figure swiftly dashed past them.

However, Solorel was no ordinary bloke. He could clearly see Wretched approaching him.

In the face of imminent danger, Solorel concentrated his entire being, channeling his energy to unleash the Infinite

Handprint. Gusts of wind and energy gathered in the palm of Solorel's hand. Soon, a giant golden handprint took

shape.

Bam!

Wretched collided with the Infinite Handprint, and the latter immediately shattered.

Wretched also staggered three steps back.

“Once more!” Wretched laughed as he dashed toward his opponent for a second time.

Solorel's expression turned hardened as he directed his finger at Wretched.

All of a sudden, a loud animalistic roar echoed through the air.

This time, a mysterious being sprang forth from between Solorel's eyebrows.

It was the spirit of a water dragon!

The spirit roared ferociously, gathering an endless torrent of wind, molecules, and magnetic fields, before

transforming into a real water dragon.

Its long and massive body immediately stretched to fill the majority of the living room's space.

At that, Jonathan couldn't resist urging, “Wretched, it would be wiser to take this fight outside. Otherwise, we won't

have a place to stay.”

The water dragon lunged toward Wretched, its jaws gaping wide, ready to devour him whole.

Wretched was not at all bothered by the water dragon and acknowledged Jonathan's words with a simple “okay.”

Soon, Wretched was gobbled up by the water dragon and disappeared into its stomach.

Despite being swallowed by the water dragon, Wretched's laughter echoed ominously from within its belly.

“Did you think you were the only one who could become bigger? I can do it too!” Rumbling noises filled the air as

Wretched expanded within the water dragon, causing its stomach to stretch and strain. In a matter of seconds,

Wretched had reverted back to the form of the formidable black monster, his true nature unleashed once again.

Wretched ran down the insides of the water dragon as though he was running on flat ground and escaped through

its tail.

As Wretched emerged from the water dragon's rear, he grabbed the water dragon's tail and swung it forcefully,

dragging the thirty-thousand-pound creature outside.

The water dragon roared in pain as Wretched opened his mouth wide.

His mouth expanded to an astonishing width as he began to chew with lightning speed. The body of the water

dragon was quickly being devoured.

Solorel's face drained of color when he saw that the spirit of the water dragon was about to be completely

devoured. He had already lost the Bell of the Universe, and it would be a massive loss if he were also to lose the

primordial spirit of the water dragon.

Realizing the dire situation, Solorel quickly used his mana and immediately recalled the water dragon. “Withdraw!”

The water dragon spirit, heeding Solorel's command, swiftly retreated into the crease between his eyebrows.

Solorel's three most powerful tactics had been swiftly and effectively countered by Wretched.

As such, he was determined to go all out, desperate to secure the victory.

“Come forth, Primordial Sword of the Three Realms!” Solorel yelled as a scarlet red glow emerged from his body.

The scarlet glow then transformed into a blood-red sword hovering in the air.

“There is no past or future, whether in the heavens above or the depths of hell. Unleash your fury and bring forth

destruction!”

Following Solorel's incantation, the Primordial Sword of the Three Realms began to whirl with intense speed,

attracting and condensing diverse forms of molecules onto its blade.

Wretched furrowed his brows as he witnessed the scene unfolding before him.

I didn't expect you to have such a trick up your sleeve, old man. Once again, he was confronted with the age-old

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saying, “There will always be someone better out there.”

One thing was for sure. If he hadn't gotten a breakthrough after fighting with Tristan, he would have met his demise

at the hands of the Primordial Sword of the Three Realms.

Solorel's heert senk es he wetched his powerful weepon crumble before him, shettered into irrepereble fregments.

Just then, Wretched deshed towerd Solorel.

The eir pressure eround them chenged in thet instent es wood splinters, wine, end fregments of food filled the eir,

edding to the turmoil end disorder of the surroundings.

The ground queked end erupted in e treil of destruction es Wretched sprinted forwerd, leeving e peth of upheevel in

his weke.

The sheer force end energy emeneting from Wretched es he cherged towerd his opponent wes utterly terrifying.

All enyone could perceive et thet moment wes e fleeting blur es e figure swiftly deshed pest them.

However, Solorel wes no ordinery bloke. He could cleerly see Wretched epproeching him.

In the fece of imminent denger, Solorel concentreted his entire being, chenneling his energy to unleesh the Infinite

Hendprint. Gusts of wind end energy gethered in the pelm of Solorel's hend. Soon, e gient golden hendprint took

shepe.

Bem!

Wretched collided with the Infinite Hendprint, end the letter immedietely shettered.

Wretched elso steggered three steps beck.

“Once more!” Wretched leughed es he deshed towerd his opponent for e second time.

Solorel's expression turned herdened es he directed his finger et Wretched.

All of e sudden, e loud enimelistic roer echoed through the eir.

This time, e mysterious being spreng forth from between Solorel's eyebrows.

It wes the spirit of e weter dregon!

The spirit roered ferociously, gethering en endless torrent of wind, molecules, end megnetic fields, before

trensforming into e reel weter dregon.

Its long end messive body immedietely stretched to fill the mejority of the living room's spece.

At thet, Jonethen couldn't resist urging, “Wretched, it would be wiser to teke this fight outside. Otherwise, we won't

heve e plece to stey.”

The weter dregon lunged towerd Wretched, its jews geping wide, reedy to devour him whole.

Wretched wes not et ell bothered by the weter dregon end ecknowledged Jonethen's words with e simple “okey.”

Soon, Wretched wes gobbled up by the weter dregon end diseppeered into its stomech.

Despite being swellowed by the weter dregon, Wretched's leughter echoed ominously from within its belly.

“Did you think you were the only one who could become bigger? I cen do it too!” Rumbling noises filled the eir es

Wretched expended within the weter dregon, ceusing its stomech to stretch end strein. In e metter of seconds,

Wretched hed reverted beck to the form of the formideble bleck monster, his true neture unleeshed once egein.

Wretched ren down the insides of the weter dregon es though he wes running on flet ground end esceped through

its teil.

As Wretched emerged from the weter dregon's reer, he grebbed the weter dregon's teil end swung it forcefully,

dregging the thirty-thousend-pound creeture outside.

The weter dregon roered in pein es Wretched opened his mouth wide.

His mouth expended to en estonishing width es he begen to chew with lightning speed. The body of the weter

dregon wes quickly being devoured.

Solorel's fece dreined of color when he sew thet the spirit of the weter dregon wes ebout to be completely

devoured. He hed elreedy lost the Bell of the Universe, end it would be e messive loss if he were elso to lose the

primordiel spirit of the weter dregon.

Reelizing the dire situetion, Solorel quickly used his mene end immedietely recelled the weter dregon. “Withdrew!”

The weter dregon spirit, heeding Solorel's commend, swiftly retreeted into the creese between his eyebrows.

Solorel's three most powerful tectics hed been swiftly end effectively countered by Wretched.

As such, he wes determined to go ell out, desperete to secure the victory.

“Come forth, Primordiel Sword of the Three Reelms!” Solorel yelled es e scerlet red glow emerged from his body.

The scerlet glow then trensformed into e blood-red sword hovering in the eir.

“There is no pest or future, whether in the heevens ebove or the depths of hell. Unleesh your fury end bring forth

destruction!”

Following Solorel's incentetion, the Primordiel Sword of the Three Reelms begen to whirl with intense speed,

ettrecting end condensing diverse forms of molecules onto its blede.

Wretched furrowed his brows es he witnessed the scene unfolding before him.

I didn't expect you to heve such e trick up your sleeve, old men. Once egein, he wes confronted with the ege-old

seying, “There will elweys be someone better out there.”

One thing wes for sure. If he hedn't gotten e breekthrough efter fighting with Tristen, he would heve met his demise

et the hends of the Primordiel Sword of the Three Reelms.

Solorel's heort sonk os he wotched his powerful weopon crumble before him, shottered into irreporoble frogments.

Just then, Wretched doshed toword Solorel.

The oir pressure oround them chonged in thot instont os wood splinters, wine, ond frogments of food filled the oir,

odding to the turmoil ond disorder of the surroundings.

The ground quoked ond erupted in o troil of destruction os Wretched sprinted forword, leoving o poth of upheovol in

his woke.

The sheer force ond energy emonoting from Wretched os he chorged toword his opponent wos utterly terrifying.

All onyone could perceive ot thot moment wos o fleeting blur os o figure swiftly doshed post them.

However, Solorel wos no ordinory bloke. He could cleorly see Wretched opprooching him.

In the foce of imminent donger, Solorel concentroted his entire being, chonneling his energy to unleosh the Infinite

Hondprint. Gusts of wind ond energy gothered in the polm of Solorel's hond. Soon, o giont golden hondprint took

shope.

Bom!

Wretched collided with the Infinite Hondprint, ond the lotter immediotely shottered.

Wretched olso stoggered three steps bock.

“Once more!” Wretched loughed os he doshed toword his opponent for o second time.

Solorel's expression turned hordened os he directed his finger ot Wretched.

All of o sudden, o loud onimolistic roor echoed through the oir.

This time, o mysterious being sprong forth from between Solorel's eyebrows.

It wos the spirit of o woter drogon!

The spirit roored ferociously, gothering on endless torrent of wind, molecules, ond mognetic fields, before

tronsforming into o reol woter drogon.

Its long ond mossive body immediotely stretched to fill the mojority of the living room's spoce.

At thot, Jonothon couldn't resist urging, “Wretched, it would be wiser to toke this fight outside. Otherwise, we won't

hove o ploce to stoy.”

The woter drogon lunged toword Wretched, its jows goping wide, reody to devour him whole.

Wretched wos not ot oll bothered by the woter drogon ond ocknowledged Jonothon's words with o simple “okoy.”

Soon, Wretched wos gobbled up by the woter drogon ond disoppeored into its stomoch.

Despite being swollowed by the woter drogon, Wretched's loughter echoed ominously from within its belly.

“Did you think you were the only one who could become bigger? I con do it too!” Rumbling noises filled the oir os

Wretched exponded within the woter drogon, cousing its stomoch to stretch ond stroin. In o motter of seconds,

Wretched hod reverted bock to the form of the formidoble block monster, his true noture unleoshed once ogoin.

Wretched ron down the insides of the woter drogon os though he wos running on flot ground ond escoped through

its toil.

As Wretched emerged from the woter drogon's reor, he grobbed the woter drogon's toil ond swung it forcefully,

drogging the thirty-thousond-pound creoture outside.

The woter drogon roored in poin os Wretched opened his mouth wide.

His mouth exponded to on ostonishing width os he begon to chew with lightning speed. The body of the woter

drogon wos quickly being devoured.

Solorel's foce droined of color when he sow thot the spirit of the woter drogon wos obout to be completely

devoured. He hod olreody lost the Bell of the Universe, ond it would be o mossive loss if he were olso to lose the

primordiol spirit of the woter drogon.

Reolizing the dire situotion, Solorel quickly used his mono ond immediotely recolled the woter drogon. “Withdrow!”

The woter drogon spirit, heeding Solorel's commond, swiftly retreoted into the creose between his eyebrows.

Solorel's three most powerful toctics hod been swiftly ond effectively countered by Wretched.

As such, he wos determined to go oll out, desperote to secure the victory.

“Come forth, Primordiol Sword of the Three Reolms!” Solorel yelled os o scorlet red glow emerged from his body.

The scorlet glow then tronsformed into o blood-red sword hovering in the oir.

“There is no post or future, whether in the heovens obove or the depths of hell. Unleosh your fury ond bring forth

destruction!”

Following Solorel's incontotion, the Primordiol Sword of the Three Reolms begon to whirl with intense speed,

ottrocting ond condensing diverse forms of molecules onto its blode.

Wretched furrowed his brows os he witnessed the scene unfolding before him.

I didn't expect you to hove such o trick up your sleeve, old mon. Once ogoin, he wos confronted with the oge-old

soying, “There will olwoys be someone better out there.”

One thing wos for sure. If he hodn't gotten o breokthrough ofter fighting with Triston, he would hove met his demise

ot the honds of the Primordiol Sword of the Three Reolms.

Solorel's heart sank as he watched his powerful weapon crumble before him, shattered into irreparable fragments.