Chapter 8: The Prince and the Beast
Roar!!!
An ear-splitting bellow erupted from a massive creature, shattering the silence of the ruined cityscape. The beast stood as tall as a bus and bore a vague resemblance to a panda. But unlike any panda that had ever roamed the Earth, this monstrous creature had canines as long as a human's arm, protruding viciously from its gaping maw. Four jagged horns crowned its forehead, curving menacingly upwards. On its chest, an intricate spiral pattern seemed to pulse with an eerie, rhythmic glow, lighting up with each thunderous roar.
The panda beast's head snapped toward a small building that still stood defiantly in the midst of the surrounding rubble. It released another deafening roar, its maw wide open.
Roar!!
From within the beast’s throat, a strange, rippling soundwave emanated, distorting the air as it moved. The pattern on its chest flared a brilliant white as the sonic attack surged forward.
Boom!
The building crumbled instantly, collapsing into dust and debris as if it were made of sand. The sheer force of the roar alone had the power to obliterate solid structures.
Behind the panda beast lay a trail of devastation—crushed cars, twisted metal, and shattered homes. The air was filled with the acrid stench of smoke and destruction. Corpses of unfortunate cultivators who had dared to stand against the beast littered the ground, mingled with the remains of countless innocent civilians who had perished in the chaos. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare—a terrifying, apocalyptic vision of ruin.
“You! You bastard! Over here!” a voice called out, filled with fury and desperation. The panda beast turned its head, its beady eyes narrowing as it located the source of the shout—a man standing a short distance away.
The man appeared to be in his early twenties, clad in a flowing gray robe with silver accents that shimmered in the light. At his waist hung a short sword, its blade reflecting the sunlight with a crystalline clarity, almost as if it were made from glass. His head was completely bald, save for a small, tightly bound blond ponytail at the back. His face was long and lean, and his eyes blazed with a mix of determination and unyielding confidence.
He tightened his grip on the sword, raising it high and pointing it directly at the panda beast. “You vile beast! I shall no longer allow you to turn this place into a land of destruction! Receive my sword and die! Remember the name of the person who killed you—Swordman of the Hidden Peak!”
His declaration echoed through the ruins, filled with bravado. This was a common tactic among cultivators—claiming grand titles and shouting their names in battle, hoping to gain fame and reputation. The Sword Hero was perhaps the most famous example of this strategy; he always ensured his exploits were as public and theatrical as possible. For many, it was an easy way to spread their name and appear powerful in the eyes of others.
With a shout, the man unsheathed his sword, the blade humming with a faint white aura as he charged at the panda beast. “Kill!”
He sprinted forward, sword raised, ready to strike. The aura around his blade pulsed with World Qi, shimmering like a veil of energy that promised death to his foe. But just as he was within striking distance, the beast's chest glowed brightly once more.
Roar!!!
The roar blasted out like a cannon shot, a concentrated wave of destructive force aimed directly at the charging swordsman. His eyes widened in shock, and for a split second, fear flashed across his face. He was not prepared for such an overwhelming counterattack.
“Fuck!” the man cursed, just moments before the sonic wave hit him.
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Boom!
His body was flung backward as if struck by a giant invisible truck. He crashed through the wall of a nearby building, smashing through the bricks and splintering wood beams as if they were paper. The structure groaned under the impact, and dust billowed out from the gaping hole left behind.
The panda beast's lips curled back in what could only be described as a mocking grin, a display of twisted intelligence. It seemed to take pleasure in the swordsman’s defeat, its gaze fixed on the hole in the wall, as if waiting for its victim to crawl back out, broken and humiliated.
But then, a change rippled across the beast's expression. Its mocking grin faded, replaced by a look of sudden dread. Its head snapped toward a new presence—a man approaching with an effortless grace, stepping over the rubble as if it were nothing more than pebbles beneath his feet.
The newcomer’s face was calm, almost serene, with a beauty that was strikingly androgynous. His features were delicate but sharp, and his dark eyes held a cold, calculating intensity. His long, pitch-black hair flowed down to his waist like a cascade of polished obsidian. He wore a deep blue robe trimmed with silver, and around his waist were ten small gourds strapped securely. A much larger gourd was slung across his back.
Recognizing the threat, the panda beast took several hesitant steps back, its earlier arrogance giving way to wariness. But its primal instincts soon overrode any fear, driving it to pounce forward with a vicious snarl, its massive claws tearing through the air.
The elegant man raised his arms slowly, moving with the fluid precision of a seasoned dancer. The moment his hands lifted, the covers on the gourds around his waist popped off, and streams of water burst forth like serpents unfurling into the air.
A faint smile touched his lips, and in that moment, any doubt about his identity vanished. This was the Water Prince, renowned for his unparalleled control over water—one of the strongest cultivators in the world. Yet, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't simply manipulating water; he was bending it with World Qi, much like the Sword Hero did with his blades. But controlling a liquid with World Qi was far more difficult than controlling a solid object. If the Sword Hero was a genius for his mastery, then the Water Prince was beyond comprehension.
The streams of water moved gracefully, swirling around the man as he guided them with a series of elegant gestures. The water coalesced into a wall before him, rippling like a living waterfall. It stood as a shield between him and the charging beast.
The panda beast lunged with all its might, its horns aimed directly at the water wall.
Bang!
The beast collided with the wall, and for a moment, the water seemed to ripple like the surface of a pond struck by a stone. But then, it held firm, not budging an inch. The wall absorbed the force of the beast's charge, its liquid form solidified by the Water Prince’s precise control.
The Water Prince's smile widened slightly. With a subtle push of his palms, the water wall transformed. Hundreds of spikes erupted from its surface, piercing the panda beast's body from every angle. The creature froze, its roar dying in its throat as blood sprayed from the wounds. It collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, lifeless. The water, now stained with the beast’s blood, receded back into the gourds, leaving behind only the still carcass of the panda.
The Water Prince looked down at the fallen beast with a mix of disdain and indifference. His expression was as calm as it had been at the start, as if the entire battle had been a minor inconvenience. Without another glance, he turned and walked away, the gourd lids snapping back into place. The powerful cultivator moved on, already thinking of his next challenge, as if this victory was nothing more than a drop in the ocean of his ambitions.
And then, everything went black.
Lester leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His heart was racing with excitement. He had just witnessed, even if only through a screen, the strength of the strongest man on Earth. The sheer power, the absolute control—it was awe-inspiring. If he needed a sign that he could make something of himself in this new world, this was it. Watching the Water Prince take down such a monstrous beast with such ease gave Lester an incredible boost of confidence.
“I still have a chance,” he thought. The era of cultivation was still in its infancy. There were opportunities everywhere—schools, sects, country-affiliated groups—all of them vying for the strongest recruits. Resources were plentiful for those willing to fight for them, and Lester wasn’t going to be left behind.
He thought of the other side of cultivation, too—evil cultivators like the Argentinian Blood Devil who preyed on the weak. He would need to be strong enough to defend himself not just from beasts, but from people like that as well.
Lester's mind flashed back to the self-proclaimed Swordman of the Hidden Peak who had tried to take down the panda beast and ended up being crushed in an instant. He didn't want to be like him—a fool who chased glory without the strength to back it up. He wanted to be like the Water Prince, to rise above, to command respect, and to rule his own destiny.
Clenching his fists with newfound determination, Lester vowed to himself, “I will get stronger!”
He knew the path ahead would be hard, but he was ready to walk it, step by step, until he reached the heights of legends.