Zhang Luan eyed the bespectacled man strangely. He hadn’t expected what bizarre scenarios the guy had conjured in that split second.

Whatever. Since he was already imagining things, let him keep at it.

“Go on, guess,” Zhang Luan sneered. “Even if you’re right, I won’t tell you. Being from the Central World just seals your fate. So—how do you plan to die?”

He subtly moved his hand behind his back. His fingers rubbed together, forming a ball of Stellar Flame wrapped in Force of Creation. He was ready to ambush anytime. Sure, he looked arrogant—but he genuinely was that arrogant.

So what if this glasses guy was from the Central World? The guy hadn’t even undergone an advancement. Zhang Luan had crawled through the mud in his past life for years and never heard of him. What was there to fear?

If only his current level wasn’t so low, he’d blast him with Stellar Flame and turn him into a roasted pig head.

“Even if you’re some family’s heir—even if you advanced at level fifteen—in my eyes, you’re nothing,” Zhang Luan scoffed. “Asking how I’ll die? I’ll tell you—you die today by my hand! Taste my blue-and-white striped light beam!”

The bespectacled man pushed up his glasses. Blue-white light rays burst out, wrapping around him completely.

Don’t be fooled by his arrogant words—he was actually panicking inside. A single stage’s suppression was overwhelming. He was level 35, boosted by a Central World artifact that doubled his strength. Yet against a stage gap, it meant nothing. His best move was to flee.

But he couldn’t let go. Under his appraisal eye, this supposed Central World heir was only level 15—freshly advanced, probably not yet adept with his new power. What if he won?

Killing this guy would grant him that legendary item—a chance to soar. He might even advance himself. And this guy surely had more than one legendary weapon. The broken sword under his feet was rare-grade; a little repair, and it’d last. If he could tread on a rare sword, perhaps his spatial device held an even better one?!

He craved victory. To him, this was an all-or-nothing gamble. Win, and his future gleamed. Lose? No—he couldn’t lose! Today, he was the Chosen One!!!

The glasses man’s expression shifted like a chameleon’s. Zhang Luan dodged the light rays calmly, watching him. He grew curious—this guy seemed more confident by the second. Finally, he manipulated the lines with fiery passion, shouting bizarre phrases.

He resembled a light novel’s male lead facing a powerful foe. But then, what was Zhang Luan? The evil antagonist?

Not bad.

“You, from the Central World’s elite, must despise a small Superhuman like me!” the man yelled. “But I’ll never bow to your kind! My life is mine to command! You won’t control my destiny!”

Zhang Luan felt a wave of awkwardness. What on earth had this guy conjured in his head? It was like a whole novel’s worth of weirdness.

Ignoring him, Zhang Luan didn’t bother with the End Bow. He pressed his fingers together—the Azure Righteous Sword spun 180 degrees mid-air. He thrust forward, sending Stellar Flame enveloped in Force of Creation crashing at the bespectacled man.

The man watched the fiery ball, weaving blue-white light into a defensive shield. He began circling the field, pulling a small robot-shaped gadget from his pocket. He pressed its switch carefully. Strange music played. His combat power surged by over half.

“You—”

Just as he prepared for a righteous speech, the Force of Creation around Stellar Flame flickered faintly. It vanished, reappearing behind the barrier. The tiny flame instantly morphed into a massive fire net, lunging to ensnare him.

He tried to dodge, but the net’s range was too wide. He was trapped!

“Damn it! Spatial power—fitting for a big clan’s heir. To use such tricks, how underhanded!!”

He cursed Zhang Luan. As the net tightened, he crushed the robot in his grip. Spatial ripples spread. This gadget, bought dearly from the Superhuman Guild, boosted his power and had an emergency escape skill. Crushing it forced a one-meter teleport in any direction. Short? Yes. But enough for a duel.

But would Zhang Luan let him succeed?

Zhang Luan, wielding Force of Creation, sensed the spatial disturbance. He clapped his hands. Space around the glasses man solidified instantly. The ripples vanished without a trace. The man gasped—instantly, the fire net engulfed him.

Only screams echoed.

“AHHH!!!”

He thrashed, trying to manipulate his blue-white lines to tear off the net. But Stellar Flame? No way an unadvanced fool could put it out.

No joke. Zhang Luan didn’t press the attack. He hovered, gazing down at the pitiful figure. Those fancy clothes made perfect kindling.

“AHHH!! It hurts so much!!”

He howled like a slaughtered swine. Zhang Luan had no pity.

In his past life, no bandit elite was decent. They relished torturing slaves—travelers they’d plundered. Some targeted children. Like that painted woman he’d killed first—a pervert who abused boys for fun.

So those chopped to bits got lucky. Missing his punishment was their loss~