Strongest Family System

Harvey Walker was looking for the Osborn pair.

He had not found them yet.

Robert intended to keep it that way until he understood exactly what Harvey Walker was carrying and exactly how the next encounter should go.

Harvey stopped walking. Not because of a sound. Because of a feeling.

He stood between two ancient trunks and let his cultivation sense expand outward.

Spirit Root Realm Level 7 Mid Stage.

Not the wide-field awareness of Soul Manifestation cultivators — he knew the difference. He had trained beside his father since he was old enough to hold a stance, and he understood exactly where his sensing ability currently sat and exactly where it needed to reach.

But twenty years of Zilton Walker's direct guidance from childhood had produced something that pure cultivation level did not fully explain.

His sense was sharper than his stage suggested.

It did not miss things at forty meters. Someone was moving parallel to him.

Matching his pace.

On purpose, keeping a distance from Harvey Walker.

Harvey's eyes moved to the right without his head turning.

The deep zone's density gave him no visual clues. Just trees. Just dark. Just the forest being exactly what it always was. But the feeling remained. Someone is there. He stopped completely. The parallel movement stopped with him. Harvey almost smiled. He turned right and walked toward it.

No concealment. No adjustment. Just forward movement at full pace with his cultivation energy no longer contained—released outward at its natural output level, the way a person stops holding their breath. Level 7 Mid-Stage.

Unrestrained. The forest registered it immediately. The ambient sounds around him dropped away—the small beasts within thirty meters going silent in the particular way they went silent when something at the top of the local hierarchy announced itself.

Robert stepped out from behind a trunk twelve meters ahead. He did not look surprised. Harvey looked at him for a moment. So this is the Osborn pair. He had seen Robert at the competition ground. Standing at the end of the northern line. Level 6 Mid Stage on the registration document.

He looked different in the forest. Not stronger. Just more present. The particular quality of someone who was entirely comfortable in the space they were standing in. Harvey did not find that interesting.

He found it irritating. "I wondered when you would stop running." Robert said nothing. "You have been following me for twenty minutes." "Observing," Robert said.

"Different thing." Harvey looked at him flatly. "Where is your partner?" "Close." He is not going to tell me where. Harvey shifted his weight forward slightly—not an attack, just the body beginning its preparation sequence without the mind having committed yet.

"The previous clan competition," Harvey said. Robert looked at him. "Celestial Brook City." Harvey's voice stayed level. "You defeated me there." Silence. "You remember." It was not a question. Robert said nothing.

"That result has been sitting with me for a long time." Harvey looked at him directly. "Today that changes."

"You came into a forest competition to settle a clan competition result." "I showed up to win this competition," Harvey said with determination.

"Defeating you is just a little extra." Robert looked at him for a moment. "The rules say no killing." "I know what the rules say." "Then say what you actually mean." Harvey's eyes were flat and emotionless. "I will cripple you.

I will take every core you are carrying. And I will leave you breathing because the rules require it. " He paused. "Not because I want to." The forest was very quiet. Robert's eyes were fixed on Harvey Walker, reflecting on the twenty years of personal training from Zilton Walker that had moulded him.

He observed how Harvey held himself, now free from the constraints of the Level 7 Mid Stage, and felt the genuine intent behind each word that had just been uttered. Then he chuckled softly. It was brief. Genuine.

Harvey stood completely still. "Something is funny." "You've spent your entire life learning from your father," Robert pointed out. "You entered this forest at Level 7 Mid Stage, having had a month of one-on-one training with the toughest man in your clan." He let that sit for one breath. "And you still need revenge for a loss." Harvey's jaw tightened. "Go increase your strength," Robert said simply.

"When you can challenge me without needing to explain why — find me then." The temperature of the air between them changed. Not physically. It's all about that specific moment when someone at a certain level of cultivation stops holding back and allows their true potential to shine through without any limits.

The full extent of Harvey Walker's cultivation level has come to light. The ancient trees surrounding them seemed to sense it—the bark on the closest ones starting to show that subtle tension that comes from being near intense cultivation energy.

The forest floor's undergrowth had been pressed down, forming a circle that spread out from where he was standing. At Level 7 Mid Stage, everything was at maximum output. It was chaotic. It was fierce. Yet, Robert's expression stayed the same. He pulled out his sword. Just one sword.

One sword.

He didn't have both hands on the hilt, nor was he in a full combat stance. Instead, he simply held the sword out, his arm relaxed in the way that thirty days of training had taught him. This was just how he carried it when it was in use.

Harvey glanced at the lone sword, then shifted his gaze to Robert's face. "Just one sword?" "Yep, just one sword," Robert replied, nodding in confirmation. Without hesitation, Harvey jumped into action. Iron Collapse Fist—not the polished version he practised on the training ground. This was the real deal.

Full outcome. Full commitment. The particular forward-driving force that had ended encounters in the mid-zone in single exchanges, the power behind it, was the product of everything Harvey Walker had spent a month building into him.

It arrived quickly.

Robert moved faster.

Swift Turn at full outcome—the direction change from a fully loaded base, zero telegraphing, his body leaving the impact point before Harvey's fist arrived, and reappearing two meters to the right in the same motion.

Harvey's strike hit an ancient tree.

The trunk cracked.

It was not split or cracked. It was a sound that the deep zone's density absorbed a bit of, then sent the rest radiating out in every direction. Harvey pulled back and turned around. Robert was already in motion again. Not retreating. Just circling.

Staying at a distance. Maintaining the right angle. Using Swift Turn, not to escape, but to prevent Harvey from getting the straight-line approach that Iron Collapse Fist needs to work at its best.

Harvey charged again. Robert stepped left. The fist passed his right shoulder at a distance he could feel without contact.

He swung the sword in a smooth, controlled arc—it was not the Twin Dragon Fang, just the sword itself. It struck Harvey's outstretched arm at the very moment of maximum extension, where the technique's power had already been unleashed and could not be redirected.

Not a damaging strike. A measuring one. Harvey felt it and pulled back.

He looked at Robert.

He does not fight me. He is reading me.

"Stop moving," Harvey said.

"No," Robert said, his voice steady.

Harvey's expression shifted—not angrier, which was already at its ceiling, but into something sharper and more focused.

He had come into this forest expecting to find the Osborn pair and resolve what the competition ground had left unresolved and cripple Robert Osborn.

He was caught off guard by the sensation of Robert not attacking but only watching his moves. He went on the offensive once more.

And again, Robert moved sideways.

Just one sword. With every exchange, there is only one change in direction. Every move is purposeful; no wasted effort. He does not counterattack beyond that single moment of contact, which reveals something new about Harvey's technique each time it connects.

The action begins with his right foot. A split second before he throws the punch, that foot is already loading up. That is the signal. Robert noted it without hesitation. Harvey retracted his fist for the fourth time, his breath quickening, eyes fixed on Robert, his face now reflecting a dangerous intensity that went beyond mere anger.

Calculation.

He is adjusting.

Robert glanced over at Harvey, who stood a good twelve meters away from him. Harvey Walker still had more to say, and so did Robert. But the forest surrounding them had already said its piece. To the left—thirty meters deep into the zone—Sai's hand signal flickered through the trees. A single tap on the bark. Looks like someone else is approaching.

Thank you for reading this book and supporting it until now. The upcoming chapters are going to get even more exciting, and I'm confident you'll enjoy what's coming next. Your support means a lot, so please continue to support this book with Power Stones and Golden Tickets.