Sign-In System: Starting With Invincible Physique

Chapter 209: Chapter 209: Disbelief

Chapter 209: Disbelief

The impact was a perfect recreation of that fateful day during the entrance trials.

Only this time, it was a hundred times worse.

Because this time, a hundred thousand spectators were watching. And millions more through the projection arrays across the entire city.

CRASH!

Navarre’s body skidded across the arena floor in the most undignified manner possible, his face grinding against the stone, leaving a long, bloody smear before he finally came to a stop—well beyond the boundary line.

For one second, the plaza was silent.

Then—

"BWAHAHAHA!"

The laughter that erupted was like a tidal wave.

Thousands of voices exploded simultaneously, and an even larger number from those watching from projections.

The sheer absurdity of the scene was too much for anyone to hold back.

Even many of the distinguished guests on the elevated stage couldn’t fully suppress their reactions.

Fabian who already knew the context was visibly biting the insides of his cheeks.

"I can’t breathe! He actually got kicked in the butt!"

"Last time he was Kicked Butt Navarre! What is he now? Twice-Kicked Navarre?"

"Hahaha! Twice-Kicked Navarre! Thirty days of closed-door seclusion just to come out and get his butt kicked exactly the same way!"

"He even pointed his finger so arrogantly! I thought he had some hidden trump card, but his only trump card was presenting his backside!"

"Someone should just tattoo a bullseye on his rear at this point!"

The cruel nicknames came from the crowd, each one more devastating than the last.

On the arena floor, Navarre lay face-down in the dirt.

Blood pooled beneath his shattered nose. His teeth were cracked.

The burning agony in his backside was indescribable.

But the physical pain was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what his ears were registering.

"No..." Navarre’s broken lips moved soundlessly. "This can’t be happening... not again..."

Lying on the ground, Navarre heard every single word.

Twice-Kicked Navarre.

The name pierced through his eardrums and stabbed directly into his soul.

The rage, shame, and unwillingness filled his chest.

His essence suddenly deviated, triggered by the utter, soul-crushing humiliation.

"BLARGH—!"

Navarre violently vomited a massive mouthful of dark red blood. His eyes rolled back into his head, and his body went entirely limp.

He had literally passed out from sheer, overwhelming humiliation.

While the tens of thousands of ordinary disciples and spectators were laughing their lungs out, entirely oblivious to the technical reality of what had just transpired, the atmosphere up on the elevated grand stage was completely different.

There was no laughter.

There wasn’t even a smile.

Every single Patriarch, Matriarch, Domain Master, and half-step Domain Master was sitting rigidly in their seats, staring at the dark-robed youth standing over Navarre’s unconscious body.

Their eyes were filled with a profound, earth-shattering shock.

The ordinary disciples couldn’t see what Rhain had done.

It had happened far too fast, and the execution was far too profound for anyone beneath the Core Formation Realm to perceive.

But it could not be hidden from the eyes of the true powerhouses.

The moment Navarre had launched his Gale Mirage Stride, splitting into three afterimages and attacking from a triangular formation, Rhain had already left his place.

He had executed the exact same martial art.

Gale Mirage Stride.

Not with three afterimages.

But seven.

Seven afterimages, the maximum that the Epic-Grade Gale Mirage Stride could produce, a level of execution that represented complete and utter perfection of the technique.

But it wasn’t just the number that shattered their composure.

All seven of Rhain’s afterimages had overlapped so perfectly, so impossibly precisely, that to every observer below the Domain Master Realm, it looked as though Rhain hadn’t moved at all. Seven phantom bodies stacked so flawlessly atop one another that they appeared as a single, stationary figure.

While Navarre had been confidently converging on what he believed was a motionless target, Rhain’s real body had already circled behind him at a speed that made Navarre look like a crawling child—and delivered the devastating kick to the exact same spot with surgical precision.

Navarre had been so thoroughly outclassed that he hadn’t even registered the movement.

His spritual sense could never predict that what he was attacking was a mere afterimage.

Preceptor Krell’s severe face was frozen in an expression of profound shock.

""I have practiced the Gale Mirage Stride for sixty years," Fabian whispered, his face pale. "I have reached the perfection stage. But even I... I do not dare to say I could replicate that overlapping technique with such flawless ease in the middle of high-speed combat."

A half-step Domain Master, an expert in Wind Laws, was openly admitting inferiority in technique execution to a Spirit Manifestation Realm youth!

But then, another frightening realisation struck them.

"He..he has only been in this Academy for one month," Krell added, his stern voice was trembling uncharacteristically, "Even Core Palace disciples who have practiced Epic-Grade movement arts for over a decade have not achieved perfection."

On the throne, Lucius’s charming smile had completely vanished. His amber eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine wariness crossed his features as he looked at Rhain.

"How long has he been at the Academy?" Patriarch Caelan muttered, his calculating eyes had a solemn look. "A month? He could only have accessed the fourth floor of the library recently. Core Palace disciples spend decades trying to bring an Epic-Grade martial art to perfection. This boy did it in a matter of weeks... and then casually reinvented its application just to mock his opponent."

Patriarch Thorian, and Matriarch Seraphine also bore the same solemn expression as they looked at dark robed youth.

Their decades of experience had no explanation for what they were watching.

Beside the utterly stunned dignitaries, Seris watched the scene with a sweet smile.

Seeing her master, Myrielle, staring at Rhain with wide sapphire eyes, Seris leaned over gracefully.

"Master," Seris said softly, her pale purple eyes still watching her husband. "I would advise you to never try to understand my husband through reasoning. It is best to simply accept whatever he does as something entirely natural."

Myrielle turned to stare at her disciple, feeling speechless.

Down in the arena, the roaring laughter of the hundred thousand spectators was slowly beginning to die down as medical attendants rushed onto the floor to drag Navarre’s unconscious, bleeding body away.

Rhain did not even spare Navarre another glance.

He casually swept his dark grey eyes across the remaining silver, and bronze badge disciples.

"Is there anyone else," Rhain’s calm voice echoed across the plaza, "who wishes to challenge me?"

It was just a simple question.

Yet, among the remaining Bronze and Silver Badge disciples, not a single one dared to breathe too loudly, let alone step forward.

Challenge him?

Who in their right mind would want to become the next laughingstock of the entire Stormveil City?

Seeing the utter submission of the lower-tier disciples, High Preceptor Octavius spoke up again.

"Since no one else dares to step forward," Octavius’s booming voice shattered the silence like thunder, "I officially declare Gold Badge disciple Rhain Voss the uncontested victor of this challenge! His rank remains secure!"

Octavius raised his massive arm high into the air.

"With that," Octavius roared, "Phase One is officially concluded!"

"Now, we commence Phase Two!"