Chapter 288: Chapter 288 Paper
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The void roared as the two immortals collided again and again.
Each impact echoed across the endless emptiness like the tolling of divine war drums, their rhythms shaking the very fabric of space.
Flashes of gold and silver streaked across the darkness, too fast for the eye to follow, too powerful for any ordinary world to contain.
They had already exchanged a hundred rounds, though to any observer, it would’ve seemed like mere moments.
Time bent and twisted around their battle. Every movement birthed storms of spiritual energy.
Every strike tore through layers of spatial law. It was no longer just a spar—it had become an overwhelming display of immortal might.
Lance had long since abandoned restraint.
His golden robes now billowed with the force of his unleashed power, his aura no longer calm but wild and radiant, like a blazing sun let loose in the cosmos.
In his hands, he wielded a divine sword—a weapon forged in the fires of an extinct star, its edge etched with the runes of ancient gods.
Each swing sent arcs of golden energy slicing through the void, tearing rifts in space that healed only after tremendous effort.
Yet none of them landed.
Riley, still composed and steady, met every strike with open palms.
His hands glowed with a soft, silvery light—gentle to the eye, yet each movement contained terrifying force.
He redirected the sword with a flick of his wrist, dispersed slashes with a twist of his arm, and nullified immortal techniques as if they were mere child’s play.
To the untrained eye, it might have seemed that Riley was simply defending.
But any true cultivator watching from afar—those lucky enough to witness such a clash—would see the truth: Riley wasn’t just defending.
He was controlling the pace of the battle.
Every move, every deflection, every silent step through the void—it was all a deliberate dance.
One where Lance, despite his brilliance, was being steadily pushed.
Lance gritted his teeth as he took a sudden step back, sword spinning to ward off a silent, rippling shockwave sent from Riley’s last palm strike.
It didn’t even touch him directly—yet it cracked the void behind him and forced his body to shudder involuntarily.
"You... you really don’t use weapons?" Lance asked between breaths, eyes flashing with a mixture of respect and rising competitiveness.
"I used to," Riley replied, voice calm and unhurried. "Then I realized my hands were enough."
He raised one of them lazily, the light on his skin now pulsing with the rhythm of his breath.
It didn’t seem threatening.
It wasn’t covered in fire, nor wrapped in lightning.
But there was a terrifying stillness to it—a profound silence that spoke of absolute control.
Lance’s lips curved into a fierce grin.
"Then let’s raise the stakes."
With a sharp whistle, Lance’s sword surged with power.
Ancient runes along its blade ignited one after another, forming a halo of radiant script around him.
The temperature in the void spiked. The blade howled with a voice older than the stars.
A forbidden technique.
Riley’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. His aura shifted.
The silver light around him deepened into a quiet brilliance—less like a weapon and more like the stillness at the heart of a storm.
The atmosphere changed completely.
Then—
BOOM!
Lance vanished, his form becoming one with his sword as he charged.
A comet of gold and white thundered across the void, collapsing space in its wake.
Riley met him mid-flight. One palm. One strike.
CRACK!
The impact sent shockwaves cascading across the void like a supernova.
A flash of light swallowed everything, and for a moment, all was white.
When the light faded, the two stood apart once more—Riley with one hand still raised, Lance with his sword lowered, golden energy dripping from a cut across his robes.
They both smiled.
And just like that, the next phase of their battle began.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Lance darted through the void like a shooting star gone mad, sword flashing with divine radiance.
Each strike was a calculated explosion of force, layered with hundreds of intricate sword laws—speed, sharpness, suppression, domination.
His form blurred and flickered, vanishing and reappearing across impossible angles as he launched a relentless flurry of attacks from every direction.
His sword howled with power, the air twisting violently under its wake. This wasn’t a display.
This wasn’t performance.
Lance Raven, a true immortal of the highest order, had entered a true state of frenzy.
He had now unleashed eighty percent of his full strength.
And yet...
Riley remained unperturbed. Not even a bead of sweat formed on his brow.
He stood in place as if he were on a scenic walk, arms behind his back, robe flowing gently with the aftershocks of the battle.
His expression hadn’t changed from earlier—peaceful, even polite.
Watching Lance’s fury was like watching a child throw stones into a lake.
Lance’s fury began to twist into disbelief.
"Be careful, fellow Daoist," Lance growled, gritting his teeth. "I’m going to get serious now... just a bit."
He clenched his sword tightly, and a blinding light burst from its edge.
Ninety percent.
His aura swelled like a golden sun, immense and suffocating, radiating waves of divine will that made even the void tremble.
Runes long hidden across his body began to glow, ancient inscriptions that hadn’t been activated in centuries.
His hair whipped around wildly, eyes burning with determination.
Then—he struck.
With a roar, his blade came down with a slash so powerful that space cracked apart like glass.
Time itself seemed to freeze, then distort, then bend around the golden arc that cleaved through everything.
It wasn’t just an attack. It was a statement. A declaration of his supremacy.
This slash severed epochs, shattered the boundary between moments, and burned with the memory of all the battles Lance had ever won.
But to his horror—Riley didn’t even blink.
The world stilled.
And then, with nothing more than a sigh and a flick of his wrist, Riley sent out another one of those infuriatingly casual palm strikes.
No glowing runes. No radiant laws. No earth-shattering pressure.
Just a soft, glowing palm.
Bang!
The moment their energies met, Lance’s golden light shattered—completely unraveled.
His mighty sword art, the one that could distort time and cleave through layers of space, was erased as if it had never existed.
The void exploded outward in all directions, a ripple of condensed pressure erupting from Riley’s palm that tore open a temporary tear in the edge of the dimension itself.
Even from dozens of paces away, Lance felt the force slam into him like a collapsing mountain. His body reeled backward, the wind knocked from his lungs.
He caught himself mid-air, his golden aura flickering wildly as he struggled to stabilize.
Silence returned to the void.
Lance’s sword trembled slightly in his grip before he slowly lowered it.
His eyes, once blazing with pride and energy, now flickered with disbelief.
His face was pale, breath ragged.
He looked at Riley, who still hadn’t taken a step since the battle began.
"...That strike," Lance whispered, his voice hoarse. "It wasn’t even your full strength, was it?"
Riley smiled faintly and dusted his sleeve, as if brushing away imaginary dust.
"You said you were getting serious, so I thought I’d match the mood. Just a little."
Lance stared for a long moment. Then, slowly, he let out a breathless laugh—a laugh not of bitterness, but of awe and surrender.
"You... you’re a monster."
"I’ve been called worse," Riley replied, shrugging lightly.
Lance sheathed his sword with a soft click.
The golden energy around him dissipated, and his aura returned to its usual calm.
He drifted forward until he stood across from Riley once more, now less as a rival and more as a fellow seeker of the Dao.
"I thought I had reached the peak," Lance said quietly. "But it seems I’ve just been standing on a hill, staring at a mountain I didn’t know existed."
Riley didn’t respond immediately. He merely looked into the vastness of the void, as if lost in distant memories.
"You’re strong," he finally said. "Far stronger than most immortals I’ve encountered. You just focus too much on power... and not enough on stillness. The sword you used is extraordinary—but it’s still a sword. The Dao is more than what can be held in the hand."
Lance closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I see..." he murmured.
Then, unexpectedly, he cupped his fists and bowed deeply.
"Thank you for the lesson, fellow Daoist Riley. Not just for sparing me... but for showing me the true distance between heaven and earth."
Riley looked down at him and chuckled lightly. "Stand up, Lance. I didn’t come here to lecture. I just wanted to loosen my joints after too many banquets."
Lance smiled wryly. "Well, consider my joints dislocated."
The two shared a moment of silent understanding, a camaraderie that could only be forged through the dance of battle.