Chapter 661: Weak as Ants

Kyle stood tall, smirking arrogantly as he pointed a single finger at Max. "One move is enough for trash like you who hasn’t even stepped into the Master Rank," he said, his voice soaked in mockery and contempt. He didn’t see Max as a threat—just a pebble on the path. A minor nuisance.

Max, however, wasn’t the type to take insults lying down. He sneered back, voice laced with scorn. "I don’t believe it," he said coldly. "Princess Lyra just told me something interesting—that the so-called geniuses of the Thunder Monarch Hall are usually the weakest among the seven overlord first-class forces. So weak, in fact, they lose in less than five moves."

Kyle’s eyes widened in disbelief before bursting into laughter. "Hahaha! I haven’t seen such an idiot before in my life!" he said, laughing so hard it looked like he might fall over.

Even some of the elders from the Great Ruler Empire frowned slightly, wondering if Max had lost his mind—or was simply clueless about the power gap.

Kyle cracked his knuckles and repeated, "As I said, I’ll be defeating you in one move." His figure then vanished in a flicker of purple lightning—fast, almost instantaneous.

With a flash, he appeared right in front of Max, his right fist crackling with arcs of purple lightning, aimed squarely at Max’s gut.

But Max was ready.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, his eyes shone with calm clarity as his Three Dimensional Body activated. Time seemed to slow. He could see the trajectory of Kyle’s punch, every twitch of muscle, every ripple of lightning.

With a thought, Max surged with energy. All 600 of his Draconic Essences roared to life at once, pouring raw, primal force into every fiber of his being. His muscles bulged, veins glowing faintly with golden hue as the pressure around him instantly intensified.

Since the Thunder Monarch Hall had come to humiliate them, Max had decided he’d return the favor—with interest.

He took a single step back with his right foot, grounding himself like an immovable mountain. Then, just as Kyle’s punch came within inches, Max punched forward—his own fist exploding out like a cannon.

Bang!

A deafening shockwave rocked the arena.

For a brief instant, everything froze—then a body was hurled backward like a meteor.

It was Kyle.

His figure flew through the air, trailing blood from his mouth, his body limp and powerless. He smashed into the barrier at the edge of the grand arena with a loud crash, the impact shaking the entire structure. The transparent barrier rippled violently before absorbing the force and letting Kyle slump down, unconscious, bruised, and defeated in a single exchange.

Max stood where he was, lowering his fist slowly, his expression calm... as if he had merely swatted a fly.

Silence blanketed the entire arena like a suffocating fog. Not a single breath was drawn, not a whisper passed, as the stunned crowd struggled to process what they had just witnessed.

Everyone had expected the battle to end in a single move—but nobody, not even in their wildest guesses, could have predicted this result. It was supposed to be Max who would fall with one strike.

Instead, the arrogant genius of the Thunder Monarch Hall had been flung like a ragdoll, unconscious and bleeding, with just one fist from someone they thought was the weakest of the Great Ruler Empire’s recruits.

Then, breaking the stunned quiet, Max’s voice echoed through the grand arena. "Huh? Only one move?" he said with exaggerated confusion, his brows furrowed, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

He turned to glance at Princess Lyra, raising his hand with a questioning look. "Princess Lyra, you said they would survive like five moves. But they were so weak that just a simple punch from me left him half-dead. Are you sure they’re from one of the top first-class forces?"

He shook his head slowly, as if truly disappointed. "They’re as weak as flies. No, even ants would have more resilience than that."

His words sliced through the silence like a whip, and the entire audience collectively froze. Murmurs began rising from the crowd, but none dared speak too loudly, too afraid that they might be caught up in whatever storm was now unfolding.

Even the elders of the Great Ruler Empire—Elder Loyd, Elder Shelly, Elder Shawn, Elder Gwen—and the seed participants stood wide-eyed, unable to believe what they were hearing, much less what they had seen. Max had knocked out a Master Rank-level genius of Thunder Monarch Hall with just one punch.

Either it was a miracle—or Max was no ordinary genius.

Then, as if the scene weren’t outrageous enough, Lyra’s lips curved into a faint smile and she calmly responded, "I must have been wrong. Recruits—or should I say, so-called geniuses from Thunder Monarch Hall—are the trashiest type of geniuses you’ll ever find in the entire Middle Domain."

The statement felt like thunder cracking over the crowd.

Max nodded seriously, as if acknowledging a truth long hidden. "That sounds about right," he said, looking thoughtful. "If they couldn’t even handle one fist from me, who’s supposedly the weakest recruit here, then Thunder Monarch Hall must truly be filled with trash. Pathetic." He spoke those final words as though they were fact, not insult—but the impact hit harder than any sword or spell. "Ants and trashes... that’s all they are."

His voice, though not shouted, rang loud and clear across the stunned silence of the arena. The words seared into the minds of every spectator, participant, and elder—especially those from the Thunder Monarch Hall. Their humiliation had been laid bare. And the entire Middle Domain was watching.

The faces of the three elders from Thunder Monarch Hall turned an unsightly shade of red—an ugly mixture of rage, shame, and disbelief. Their eyes twitched, their hands clenched, and their dignified postures trembled slightly under the weight of public humiliation.

This wasn’t just a loss. This was a public disgrace—delivered with a single punch by someone they had all considered a joke.

Even Travis, the prideful and ever-mocking genius, now looked as if he had just swallowed a flaming coal. His confidence shattered, his smug demeanor cracked open like brittle stone.

He had come to disgrace the Great Ruler Empire in front of the entire Middle Domain—yet instead, it felt like he had delivered himself to be paraded as a fool.

"You trash in the Expert Rank," Travis snarled, barely holding back his fury as his aura surged out. His voice was sharp, bitter, and desperate to regain even a sliver of control. "What trick or treasure did you use to defeat Kyle?" he demanded, unleashing the pressure of a Legend Rank expert toward Max.

He thought, perhaps, that if Max had used some hidden item or forbidden treasure, exposing him to his full oppressive aura would force him to crumble, to expose the truth—to confess that it hadn’t been his strength.

But what came next only deepened the pit they had dug for themselves.

Max blinked, then tilted his head slightly, his face scrunched in what seemed to be genuine confusion. "Huh?" he muttered. Then, in a tone that sounded more puzzled than angry, he continued, "Are people from Thunder Monarch Hall blind and dumb as well?"

Gasps echoed through the arena at his words.