Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 2488

"Go to hell!" Wilder's furious roar echoed through the arena as his right arm slammed into the air, sending out a massive phantom shockwave.

Andrew countered with a rapid barrage of blows, striking more than ten times before finally shattering the shadow apart.

But by then, Wilder had already lunged forward, his palm flying straight toward Andrew's forehead.

Andrew's face twisted in strain. Facing a martial emperor head-on was no easy feat, but he had no choice. He gritted his teeth and summoned his most powerful attack: the Dragon-Slaying Palm.

His strike was aimed right at Wilder's left chest, where his heart was.

"Trying to drag me down to hell with you? Dream on!" Wilder sneered, swinging his palm to meet Andrew's.

Their hands locked around each other's wrists, muscles straining as they wrestled for dominance. Both men raised a knee, slamming into each other's midsection before twisting their bodies, grappling for control.

The power of the Dragon-Slaying Palm lay in its precision, its perfect balance of offense and defense. Among all the ancient techniques of the Lloyd royal bloodline, it was a secret art reserved only for the Dragon Princes themselves.

In other words, at that time, only Andrew and Reginald were capable of using it.

Moreover, in rank, the Dragon-Slaying Palm stood beyond even the highest martial grades. It was a skill that transcended the Heavenly-tier in martial arts.

As their clash intensified, Wilder suddenly stiffened. He realized, to his shock, that Andrew's hands had somehow locked around his neck.

It was an unusual hold. Both of Andrew's arms had closed in tightly, trapping Wilder's throat between them.

Suddenly, a surge of energy burst outward, shaking the air.

No one noticed that the Blood-Eyed Black Dragon tattoo etched across his chest had begun to glow faintly.

A rush of power, one he had never felt before, surged through every vein in his body. His movements became fluid, instinctive. He swung a single punch toward his side, striking nothing but air.

Yet the moment his fist reached full power, Wilder's body seemed to appear right where Andrew's attack landed, as if drawn to his death.

Wilder's eyes widened in disbelief. "H-How is this possible?"

The next instant, an overwhelming force slammed into him like a tidal wave. He was thrown backward, his body crashing into the arena wall with a deafening boom, leaving a massive crater.

Coughing violently, Wilder struggled to breathe, his fury eclipsing his shock. He could not accept that someone like him, a martial emperor, was being manhandled by a mere martial saint.