529 Prison 1
Dyon's eyes first rested on Elder Daiyu. He immediately noticed that he was significantly older and more decrepit than when last he saw him. Although he didn't know the reason why, it was an interesting enough point to take note of. In Dyon's experience, even the most minute of details could lead to the most important things. And in a situation like this, he needed whatever he could get.
However, when he heard Chenglei's words a flicker of cold red bolted across his eyes before they landed on him.
An oppressive demonic intent shook the space between them, causing Chenglei's features to pale as his knees weakened.
The grip on Dyon's shoulder tightened so severely that his bones immediately crushed under the pressure, but it was too late and Dyon couldn't be bothered to care.
In an instant, the prince of the Daiyu fell to his knees shivering. He looked down at the ground listlessly, unable to comprehend what just happened.
Dyon turned his head to gaze at his shoulder, an undisguised contempt for Patriarch Ragnor clear on his features. But, his arm could only hand limply to his side as his internal bleeding worsened with each passing second. With his movements cut off by Patriarch Ragnor, it was impossible for him to circulate his essence energy to speed his healing, but that didn't mean he couldn't use his soul and aurora flames.
Unfortunately, healing depended not only on the strength of the body, but also the strength of the attack that injured the body… With the stream of celestial energy entered his shoulder, it became far beyond his capabilities of healing.
Patriarch Ragnor's anger boiled as he watched Dyon look at his own shoulder seemingly nonchalantly. It had been under his watch that Dyon had humiliated Chenglei… It was nothing short of a slap in the face to him.
And yet, when he to punish Dyon for his act of rebellion, he hadn't even winced at his bones crushing.
Anger flared among the Daiyu warriors. After the initial shock, they suddenly realized what had happened.
"How dare you!"
Voices of discontent and anger rang outwards, but Elder Daiyu stopped them with a word. "Silence."
He didn't speak loudly, and his voice almost seemed tired. But, it was enough to cause a wave of calm to overcome the crowd of warriors.
Elder Daiyu gently placed a palm to Chenglei's back. A secret burst of celestial will circulated, snapping him out of his stupor. But, the moment he realized what happened, his face became beet red with anger.
"You!" Chenglei stood violently, sending a fist flying toward Dyon's face in anger.
Dyon could immediately tell that this was no normal attack. It was clearly laced with spear will, and the crackling flames that spiked the pressure couldn't have been anything but fire will.
An even deeper disdain colored Dyon's features, but Elder Daiyu made no move to stop his grandson.
Whether he was able to move or not, Dyon was still an array alchemist of unprecedented levels and he had left Chenglei far behind in terms of combat prowess. Before, it would have taken multiple defensive arrays to stop this fist. But right now? Only one was necessary.
Dyon's eyes flashed with a deep purple gold as a brilliant array appeared before him and Chenglei's fist.
However… Patriarch Ragnor wouldn't make the same mistake twice so easily…
With a discreet flick of a finger that sat on Dyon's shattered shoulder, Dyon's array immediately dimmed just moments before Chenglei's fist collided.
In that moment, how could Dyon's 6th sense not pick up on what happened? He had more than enough time to draw another array, but would it make a difference? Wouldn't Patriarch Ragnor just act again?
The array shattered reminiscent of a fragile glass pane. Dyon watched with a cold gleam in his eye as Chenglei's fist collided with his face.
Maybe in a normal situation, the impact would have been lessened by Dyon flying backward. But, the grip Patriarch Ragnor had on his shattered shoulder was so strong that Dyon tilted to the side with such force that his arm was nearly torn out of its socket.
A deep and reverberating pain erupted from Dyon's shoulder as Chenglei rained punch after punch down.
They felt like little else than an irritant, but because Dyon wasn't able to control and move his muscles, it was only Patriarch Ragnor's grip on his shoulder keeping him up.
The pain in Dyon's shoulder felt like nothing to him. All he felt was an endless humiliation.
He didn't care that Patriarch Ragnor was a celestial and he by all rights shouldn't win. He didn't care that Chenglei's punches felt like nothing to him. He didn't care that he was being forced into a corner by these people or that the odds were stacked against him from the very beginning.
Such was his deep seeded arrogance.
There shouldn't have been a single situation he couldn't get out of. Not a single one that he couldn't overcome.
And yet here he was, getting his face pounded by someone this weak and inferior to him.
Time seemed to slow… There was only one other time where Dyon had ever felt this feeling. He had vowed to never feel it again, but here he was…
However, he continued to watch every first, never closing his eyes. With his senses, Chenglei's every punch was incomparably slow, and everyone had its image burned into Dyon's mind.
'I'll remember this.'