Chapter 161 -161-The Terrifying Young Man
Whoosh—whoosh...
As Owen’s thoughts churned with intensity, the black stone pillar before him began to writhe, like a pool of dark ink spreading across the void. Slowly, a figure emerged, stepping out from the inky depths.
For a moment, Owen could hear the faintest sound of breathing. At the same time, the space around them began to tremble and collapse, as if under the weight of an unimaginable force. The very air thickened, becoming viscous, difficult to move through—as if the presence of this being alone was enough to cause the void to implode.
Just the sight of this figure made Owen’s skin crawl with goosebumps. The oppressive aura radiating from the blurry silhouette stirred the divine blood within him, igniting it, setting it ablaze with primal heat. His heart pounded, and a deep instinct within told him—
He had just encountered an opponent he would remember for the rest of his life.
The sheer arrogance radiating from this youth seeped into one’s bones. It was not the arrogance of mortals, but something far greater—an overwhelming pride that seemed to stem from his very soul. That pride alone, like a tidal wave of supremacy, was enough to crush the defenses of the mind and shatter one’s resolve. It made one want to kneel, to submit to a supreme existence that should not be challenged.
"So this is what a top-ten-ranked human in the combat rankings at around thirteen years old looks like?" Owen murmured, his expression solemn. "No wonder they call them the pinnacle of human battle power. Truly... extraordinary."
The slender frame of the youth appeared fragile, even delicate. Yet Owen could sense that it harbored the strength of an entire world. Elemental energy surged within the boy’s body—pure, refined to perfection. His soul force echoed with the magnitude of the stars, and his physical vitality burned with the fury of a world-scorching blaze.
No matter which angle one observed him from, this youth seemed... flawless.
Even the most exquisite creations of the heavens would pale in comparison to him.
As the thirteen-year-old fully stepped out from the black pillar, the void around them—already buckling—began to fold like wrinkled paper. Invisible pressure pulled at the space itself, and the closer one got to the youth, the more apparent the distortion became. It was as if the world itself rejected his presence, unable to withstand the power he carried.