Chapter 106: The Pinnacle of Fire

Richard faced his adversary with utmost caution. As the saying goes, a person's reputation precedes them like a tree's shadow. Zhao Tianxing, the Firewalker, had long made a name for himself in the city. Even Richard's two captains spoke of him with unreserved praise. Confronting such a figure—even as a fellow level-nine powerhouse—Richard felt not a shred of hope for victory.

"Are you Richard the Lionheart?" Zhao Tianxing emerged from the ruins, approaching the towering man with a casual air. "I recall your ability: you absorb heat. So—" Zhao lifted his hand and pressed down gently. The frost creeping from beneath Richard's feet halted a few meters from Zhao.

"We are natural enemies." Zhao withdrew his hand, then pushed lightly. The frozen domain receded from Zhao’s presence, pressing towards Richard until it stopped at his feet. Richard shuddered, cold sweat beading on his brow. The tremendous pressure bore down on him; he staggered, forced to retreat a step.

"You're no match for me." Seeing his opponent falter, Zhao smiled smugly. "Your codename is intriguing, Richard. It refers to England’s King Richard the Lionheart. If I recall, he was a true warrior—a battle fanatic."

"But you? You’re nothing like him..."

Richard offered no retort. The pressure from Zhao Tianxing was suffocating, nearly indistinguishable from the overwhelming aura of his own captains.

"Have you reached level ten?" Richard managed to raise his hands, steadying the retreating ice. He voiced the question that weighed on him most. If Zhao Tianxing truly belonged to the ranks of level ten, Richard’s defeat was inevitable.

"Not yet," Zhao replied with natural ease. "My superpower response value is nine hundred forty-two points—still within the third tier of superpower response."

Yet Richard did not relax. The latter stages of superpower classification were determined by magnitude: a hundred points marked level seven, three hundred for level eight, five hundred for level nine. To ascend to level ten, one required a thousand points—the legendary fourth tier of superpower response.

Though Zhao was not yet a level-ten powerhouse, the abilities he displayed were already dangerously close.

"There’s no chance of victory." That was Richard’s conclusion. Even among level-nine powerhouses, there existed insurmountable gaps—not the difference between ant and elephant, perhaps, but certainly between child and strongman.

"No wonder Achilles couldn’t withstand even a single attack from you." Richard was already contemplating retreat. He glanced around for his comrades, but their whereabouts were unknown. "Only our captains can hope to defeat you." With that, he stepped back again, attempting to escape Zhao Tianxing’s dominance.

But Zhao suddenly advanced, flames blooming in his hand, scattering like flowers among the snow and ice. "Richard, you’ve lost."

"You don’t get to decide that," Richard retorted, unconvinced. "You haven’t taken me down yet. When my captains arrive, it’s you who will fall." He continued to retreat, the temperature around his hands dropping, nearly reaching absolute zero.

Unbeknownst to both, their duel had become a matter of life and death. Outwardly calm, the danger was palpable. Yet Zhao seemed unconcerned, quickly following Richard’s retreat.

The temperature around Zhao Tianxing soared, distorting the very light. Between the two, one side was ablaze with molten rock and debris, the other frozen in ice. Zhao raised his hand, fire spreading from his palm up his arm.

"Do you know why I say you’ve lost?" Zhao’s gaze was tinged with regret. "Because you no longer possess the heart of a true warrior."

"I admit, your captains are formidable. If I truly faced them, I’d have no chance. But their strength is precisely your weakness." Zhao’s flames spread, curling up his arm—beautiful, deadly crimson.

"You fail to recognize your own worth. With powerful backers, you lack the spirit to charge forward and the courage to be invincible." As he spoke, Zhao’s fire pressed in on Richard, who could not refute him. The searing heat reached him.

"You’re a level-nine powerhouse. Even if you’re not my equal, you should still have the strength to fight. Yet you don’t. You choose to retreat, to rely on your captains." Zhao pressed closer; his flames whirled skyward, forming a magnificent pillar.

"You will never become a true warrior!" Zhao sneered, stepping forward, his flaming fist crashing toward Richard. The roar of the fire dragon echoed through the heavens, cutting through the endless ice, lunging straight for Richard’s face.

"That’s nonsense!" Richard, incensed by Zhao’s words, flipped his palms, summoning a colossal ice dragon behind him. Wind and snow formed a shimmering wall. The fire crashed against it, sparks raging in the air, but Zhao’s fire dragon could not break Richard’s defense.

Richard relaxed somewhat, sneering, "Defeating me isn’t so easy. I won’t argue with you; when my captains arrive—"

But his words were cut short. The wall of snow and wind was torn apart, scattering as if fleeing from some monstrous presence.

"You—!" Richard cried out in shock and anger, retreating hastily. From the storm, Zhao Tianxing emerged, flames swirling about him as if to incinerate all creation.

He strode from the ice and snow, fire in his eyes, gazing at Richard with mocking amusement. "You’ve lost!"

The flames in his hand coalesced into a sword, following his movements, plunging deep into the frozen earth.

"No!" Richard shouted, waving his hands to block the terrifying blade. Yet the snow and wind, swept away by the heat, could not gather. The sword of flame shot from Zhao’s hand, crossing a dozen meters, burning the ground into molten lava.

It was an unstoppable strike. Richard struggled, but in an instant, his hands were reduced to ashes, then his chest, abdomen, thighs, head...

The sword of fire pierced through him, incinerating the foe before him in a flash.

With Richard’s death, his power dissipated. The ice and snow nearby were swept away by flame, and the unleashed fire became the sole presence. The wings of fire unfurled behind Zhao Tianxing, burning everything within a hundred meters to magma and dust.

"Perhaps I went too far," Zhao mused, lowering his hand. The flames drew back from every direction, returning to his palm, finally forming a blinding golden sphere. Zhao cradled the orb, surveying the surroundings, then spotted Will, pinned down by Gilgamesh.

That battle was still raging.

After evading the initial attack, Will fled in disarray. Gilgamesh laughed loudly, advancing through the ruins. Suddenly his expression changed; he raised his left palm to the side. A pillar of fire, twice as tall as a man, shot past, vanishing before him, space twisting faintly. Then it reappeared behind him, scorching further, burning through several buildings and leaving gaping holes.

"You took down Richard that quickly?" Gilgamesh glanced back at the ruined wall. Molten metal and lava still dripped along the charred edges.

"That fool was a disgrace," Gilgamesh scoffed. "But if you think you can defeat me, you’re mistaken."

Zhao Tianxing approached from afar, his clothes tattered but his aura immense. He walked with the steadiness of a mountain. When he was about a hundred meters from Gilgamesh, Will called out, "Captain, don’t go any closer."

Zhao stopped.

He looked down, then at the poised Gilgamesh ahead, shaking his head slightly. "Spatial distortion—silent death. So you’re Gilgamesh? An impressive name."

"A codename, nothing more." Gilgamesh stood naturally, but his hand gripped the sword he had just sheathed. His gaze flickered between Will and Zhao Tianxing; should either move, he would strike.

"I’ve mostly figured out your ability," Zhao nodded. "Your spatial distortion covers a radius of about a hundred meters." He estimated the distance—just over a hundred meters—and their voices carried clearly, perhaps another effect of that power.

"As long as you know," Gilgamesh said, solemn but unafraid. "A hundred meters around me is my domain. Within it, I am invincible..." Before he finished, a falling leaf behind him was sliced in two.

"You won’t breach my defenses," Gilgamesh declared confidently. "Nor will you approach within a hundred meters."

Will shouted anxiously to his captain, "He’s right—don’t get within a hundred meters! You can’t predict his attacks!"

Zhao Tianxing merely shook his head, then stepped into the invisible "domain."

"Captain!"

"Ha! You’re courting death!"

Gilgamesh laughed, his sword flashing from its sheath, slashing forward. Space twisted; the blade appeared instantly at Zhao Tianxing’s throat. Gilgamesh swung, envisioning Zhao’s head flying.

But in the next moment, his laughter froze.

Zhao Tianxing walked calmly onward. Gilgamesh’s sword was now only a stub, the rest melted into liquid iron.

"If I wish, nothing can exist near me. I can burn it all to ash!" Zhao continued forward, standing close to Gilgamesh.

"I am the pinnacle of flame, the epitome of heat!"

Zhao raised his hand. Gilgamesh sneered, "You can’t burn me. I can distort space, redirect any flame elsewhere. You—"

He broke off as Zhao raised his hand, palm to the sky. "Your domain is only a hundred meters. Fine. I’ll burn every inch of it to ash." As he spoke, a golden sun seemed to rise behind him, exploding forth. In an instant, fire engulfed everything.

Will ran, clutching his head. He knew all too well how powerful Zhao Tianxing was; in a flash, Gilgamesh was incinerated without a sound.

When the light faded, the world was changed. Hundreds of meters were transformed into glassy crystalline rock—the crystallized remains of stone.

Zhao Tianxing stood relaxed, Gilgamesh gone without a trace. He smiled faintly. "Godslayer Squad—nothing remarkable, after all."