Inside the living room, four or five round tables made of yellow wood.
The atmosphere is harmonious, everyone brimming with enthusiasm.
"?"
Andrew Han, dressed in a light blue T-shirt, hesitated, considering whether he should knock Harold Wu, Principal Victor Yan's old superior, unconscious with a single glance to prevent this seemingly malicious old man from spoiling the birthday celebration.
However.
Andrew had not yet taken action.
Within his Inspiration, a second faint trace of malice suddenly appeared. This one was also directed at him, and at a distance of about two meters—even someone as strong as Andrew Han was momentarily puzzled.
Heavens above!
Within two meters, he alone could stand against the entire country, travel the world unhindered, and rarely meet a true opponent.
Who could it be...
Are they really tired of living...?
Even Great-Class Specters and Great-Class Demons would never withstand his Magma State Internal Power... Andrew's lips twitched twice as he looked at Sean Wu sitting on the opposite side of the round table.
Just then, Sean Wu's smiling gaze met Andrew Han in his light blue T-shirt.
"Hey."
Sean Wu maintained his smile as he sized up Andrew Han. Though he couldn't understand why Andrew's expression was so strange, he didn't bother to think about it.
He merely thought to himself,
"Just as I thought."
"I guessed right—this junior of Principal Victor Yan has eyes like lightning; he must be a martial practitioner."
At this thought, Sean Wu was somewhat surprised. After all, he was Second Rank, among the upper three ranks of the Nine-Tier Martial Arts Ranking System. Yet, facing Andrew Han's odd gaze, he felt a surge of fear—his heart racing and trembling, nearly to the point of cardiac arrest.
Strange.
Truly strange.
Sean Wu frowned, feeling as if Andrew Han on the opposite side of the round table was not merely a fierce tiger... No, far more than a tiger—he seemed like a primordial beast from ancient legend, slowly awakening and gazing at him with indifferent eyes.
At the same time, Andrew Han was pondering.
"What's this guy planning?"
"Judging by his physical strength, he's probably just Nine-Tier Martial Arts Rank." To Andrew Han, all ranks within the Nine-Tier system were equally weak—no need to distinguish upper, middle, or lower.
And indeed, that was the case.
Even a First Rank of the Nine-Tier system could be killed instantly by Andrew Han with a single glare. Martial strength determines one's perspective; just as an ordinary person has no interest in the size of ants.
"Hmm."
"I get it now... Harold Wu holds a grudge—there must be some past conflict. Principal Victor Yan has already forgotten, but Harold Wu still remembers. So today, bringing his grandson Sean Wu, he's here to disrupt the birthday banquet."
Andrew Han's thoughts moved like lightning; he understood instantly.
With the keen awareness of the Martial Lord Realm, he could see through everything at a glance. He always solved problems by force—for convenience, for simplicity, for saving time. He couldn't be bothered to overthink, just as his master Miles Ning had taught him.
Trust your master—never wrong!
"Makes sense."
"With someone as strong as me, if I started using my brain more, even I'd be scared of myself." Andrew Han glanced casually at Sean Wu, freezing him in his seat as if struck by lightning. All thoughts of issuing a challenge vanished, leaving him sitting motionless like a statue.
And this was just a trace of Inspiration.
If he unleashed all his Inspiration, he could instantly slay Great-Class Specters with sky-supporting power, and even shock Martial Artists to death—let alone a mere Nine-Tier ranker.
"What are you thinking about?"
Monica Zhang pinched Andrew Han's thigh.
"Nothing much." Andrew Han smiled lightly. "You’re already Third Rank in the Nine-Tier system—that’s strong. Be careful with your thousand-jin strength, or you might hurt ordinary people."
"Is Third Rank really strong?" Monica Zhang asked curiously, tilting her head.
"Of course it's strong—extremely strong." Andrew Han's expression grew serious. A body trained to the upper three ranks of the Nine-Tier system possessed extraordinary resilience, which could be understood as elasticity or flexibility.
"Oh, oh."
Monica Zhang's bright eyes shone with a nameless longing.
As for Sean Wu, frozen on the opposite side of the round table, the couple paid him no attention at all. Only Yvonne Yan looked worried and patted Sean Wu's shoulder.
"Sean Wu? Sean Wu?"
Yvonne Yan called softly.
Sean Wu was considered an outstanding young man in Linhe City's elite circles. Yvonne Yan admired him, and many of her friends in the circle felt the same way, but Sean rarely mingled with them despite his status.
"Sigh."
Yvonne Yan sighed, thinking Sean Wu just didn't want to talk to her.
That's right.
Normally, Sean Wu responded to her with indifference.
Sean Wu had good looks, a strong build, and a prestigious family background. His father, in particular, was extremely mysterious—even the highest officials in Linhe City had to bow to him.
After a while—
"Hiss."
Sean Wu's right hand trembled slightly, his chopsticks tapping against his plate.
A moment ago, an unparalleled terror had swept through his body like a tidal wave, overwhelming his mind. In Sean Wu's senses, Andrew Han—chatting and laughing on the opposite side—seemed to transform into a primordial giant grasping meteors, vast and boundless.
It was as if a mountain pressed down on him!
Only now did Sean Wu understand the strange look in Andrew Han's eyes—it was the gaze one gives to dust-like, insignificant ants.
"Gulp."
"A martial practitioner? Is he at the Martial Artist Realm or Martial General Realm?" Fear welled up in Sean Wu as he quietly glanced at Andrew Han in his light blue T-shirt.