Imperial Capital, Sixth Ring Road—inside a quiet warehouse.
It was nearly dusk, and the air had grown slightly stifling.
Boom!
With one final cannon-like punch, Marcus Murakami of Sakura Island Nation was smashed beyond recognition. Andrew Han halted his momentum, quietly sensing the aftermath of the surrounding turmoil.
"Not bad."
"Just a slight tremor—hardly anyone will notice." Andrew shook out his right fist, quite satisfied with his control over his own force.
At this moment, the warehouse's concrete floor was already shattered into countless ravines, scattered with debris. Dust whirled through the air, as if the place had just endured a natural disaster of flood and landslide—truly a shocking sight.
Especially the cargo all around.
Those long-abandoned cargo boxes were all toppled in chaotic disarray.
Even though Andrew Han had tried to restrain his force, the clash with the wings of Gifted Power still leaked a bit of energy. The Southern Thousand-Mile March he just unleashed left a half-meter-deep ravine gouged into the concrete floor.
"The destructive power of the Martial Lord Realm is terrifying."
"Luckily Marcus Murakami was a Gifted. If he'd been a mid-tier Martial Lord, and the fight had been truly fierce, the nearby elevated highways might have actually collapsed." Andrew's gaze grew thoughtful as he brushed bloodstains from his coat.
Then—crash!
He shook himself off, and his powerful Solidified Core Internal Power surged outward, erasing all traces of blood.
This was the wonder of Solidified Core Internal Power.
Even if a Martial Lord never bathed for years, not a speck of dust would cling to his body—far cleaner than any ordinary washing.
"Hmph."
Andrew Han's right fist trembled.
The lingering Gifted Power shattered instantly, dispersing into dust that vanished on the wind.
His first real battle with a Gifted left Andrew Han wary. The structure of Gifted Power was similar to Demon force, and not so different from the mysterious power of martial arts.
Simply put—
Gifted Power is nothing but a fusion of Internal Power and a Unity-type art!
No matter how much Marcus Murakami squeezed out his Gifted Power, he still couldn't match Andrew Han, whose strength rivaled a high-tier Martial Lord. Murakami, the four black-clad agents from Sakura Island, and the three thieves who stole sect relics from China—all now lay here in eternal rest.
Silence.
A deep, indescribable silence.
"Gifted Power is, after all, not a power you comprehend yourself."
"Although at the level of the Three Martial Realms, Gifted are stronger than martial practitioners. But once you reach the titled Martial Lord Realm, Gifted are actually weaker than those who train in martial arts."
Andrew Han pondered for a moment, then left the warehouse.
Swish.
The iron door slid open, and sunlight streamed in.
The scent of blood in the air had not yet escaped. Andrew Han immediately shut the iron door behind him, gazing at the sprawling Sixth Ring Road outside. He smiled faintly.
"The Zhuo Family."
"You stole the Green Mountain Sect's relic. Don't blame me for being merciless when I come to demand justice."
......
Edge of the Imperial Capital, quiet suburbs.
This is the manor district, rarely visited by outsiders. Spanning several square kilometers, the vast estate boasts lush lawns, dense evergreen trees, and five soaring towers.
White towers stand at all directions, encircling the grounds.
At the center lies the Zhuo Family's main residence.
Given the destructive power of martial practitioners, the Zhuo Family has carefully arranged three layers of defense—lush lawns, evergreen trees, and white towers—to block all lines of sight and prevent any probing.
Even with binoculars, nothing inside the Zhuo Family estate can be seen.