Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat - Chapter 674

Chapter 674: The Divine Slap Technique Strikes Again

The wings on Ethan’s back were the very same ones that had mutated when Ormund revealed his true form.

He looked down at the changes to his body with pleasant surprise. The full set of armor had manifested without hindering his movements in the slightest. On the contrary, Ethan realized the armor fusion had significantly boosted his physical resilience, though he couldn’t yet gauge the exact extent.

The wings extending from the armor felt like a natural part of him, an extension of his own body.

Whoosh…

With a thought, the wings beat, and Ethan’s figure shot into the air.

“Luna… come out!”

Ethan stretched out his hand, and the Twilight War Spear materialized from nothing. Its keen tip glinted coldly in the light. He swung the spear, holding it loosely behind his back.

From a distance, Alaric’s eyes narrowed as he witnessed this, a flash of greed appearing in his gaze as it fell upon the Twilight War Spear. He could tell at a glance this weapon was extraordinary.

“I like that spear,” he declared, a smirk twisting his lips. “Just what I need. Hahaha…” His arrogant laughter suggested he didn’t see Ethan or the others as any real threat.

“You’ve got some nerve for a guy who looks like that,” Ethan shot back.

Even as he spoke, he was already closing the distance. With a sharp shhhk of air, he thrust the spear forward in a straightforward, brutal lunge—one of Uncle Jed’s signature techniques, Pathfinder’s Guidance.

The move demanded an unstoppable, forward-driving momentum, which Ethan had built to its peak during his charge. The spearpoint seemed to pierce the very fabric of space, creating a spiderweb of fissures in the air around it. An ordinary opponent would be torn apart by the gravitational pull of those spatial cracks before the spear even made contact.

And Ethan had done this without even activating his transformation. The credit went entirely to Uncle Jed’s training. The old man’s spear style wasn’t about flashy, esoteric moves; it was built on the fundamentals, the basic thrusts and parries. But when Uncle Jed wielded a spear, there was a unique rhythm, a profound essence that elevated these simple forms into a peerless art. Ethan had managed to grasp about thirty or forty percent of that essence.

Seeing the attack, a drunken Uncle Jed, watching from afar, felt his eyes brighten, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod of approval.

Facing the incoming thrust, Alaric’s eyes registered surprise, but his hands didn’t slow. “Shaking Light!” His rapier flickered, and a point of brilliant starlight blossomed at its tip, like a tiny, genuine star being born.

His body drifted backward with an eerie lightness as he precisely met the spear’s tip with his own.

BOOM!

A dull impact echoed as the two weapons collided. The clash generated a thunderous roar, and a visible shockwave, thick as a blast of air, erupted outward. Bolts of blue lightning arced down from the point of impact, crashing directly onto Ethan’s body.

“Devour…” The word seemed to whisper directly into Ethan’s mind.

The lightning didn’t scorch him; instead, it seeped through his pores, coursing along his muscle fibers like energy before converging violently into his Core.

“Holy hell…” Ethan had considered that last attack little more than a probing strike. He hadn’t expected his opponent to counter with what felt like a ultimate-level skill. He’d been about to retreat from the storm of lightning, but the Dragon of Consumption within him had chosen that moment to intervene.

As the crackling energy traveled through his body, Ethan felt a strange, invigorating numbness. His muscles seemed to hum, growing denser and stronger from the ordeal. Annoyance at the dragon’s timing turned into grudging respect. Who knew this guy could be so useful? And who knew this kind of lightning could be used for body strengthening?

“You dare play with lightning in front of me? I’ll smite you into dust!” Blackie’s voice rumbled from above.

Ethan glanced up. The hooves of the Black Qilin were wreathed in rolling thunder, and above its head spun a mass of pitch-black cloud, thick with coiling arcs of electricity—it looked like a miniature heavenly tribulation.

“Annihilation… Pentathunder!”

KRAKOOOM!

A bolt of violet-black lightning, thick as a man’s arm, tore across the sky, aimed directly at the crown of Alaric’s head.

“Shattering Sun!” Alaric’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the thunder. He brought his rapier to his chest, point skyward, striking a formal, almost ceremonial dueling stance.

“Shattering Sun? I’ll shatter you—Serpent’s Coil Strike!” Seeing his opponent present such a prim, exposed profile, Ethan saw an opening too good to pass.

He fluidly shifted position, appearing behind Alaric. Gripping the Twilight War Spear with both hands, he gave it a sharp twist. The spear began to rotate at a terrifying speed, howling like a drill.

ZING!

It shot forward like an arrow, its target unmistakably aimed at the seat of Alaric’s pants. A hit here wouldn’t just draw blood; it would be downright humiliating.

A flash of genuine anger crossed Alaric’s face. Using such a crude, undignified move was an insult. He could tell Ethan’s techniques were sharp, but the kid’s actual strength level—the raw energy he sensed—felt weak, barely that of a standard Energy User. What was perplexing was the sheer power of Ethan’s Intent. Every move carried an overwhelming, domineering force.

Yet, there was a strange contradiction. Ethan’s Intent lacked any trace of bloodlust. His attacks felt casual, almost playful, as if he weren’t in a life-or-death fight but merely… amusing himself. This complete absence of lethal intent was deeply unsettling for Alaric, who relied on sensing his opponent’s killing impulse to predict their moves.

How could he know that Ethan’s mindset was still stuck in the Ethereal? In a game, fighting monsters or players was just entertainment; there was no real killing intent. Ethan had inadvertently brought that detached, gamified mentality into a real battle. Against a seasoned expert who relied on perception, it was like fighting a ghost.

Alaric twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the spear thrust aimed at his posterior. His rapier flicked upward, the starlight at its tip shooting out to intercept Blackie’s descending Annihilation Thunder.

“Knew you’d dodge!”

The moment Alaric launched his counter, Ethan, still connected to his speeding spear, flashed past him. Fused with Ormund’s armor, he could now access the beast’s innate skills. His speed abruptly skyrocketed, courtesy of Ormund’s Rift Step ability—a short-range, instantaneous burst of velocity.

As he blurred past Alaric, his voice was a whisper in the man’s ear.

SMACK!

A stinging heat exploded across Alaric’s cheek. The sheer force of the open-handed blow sent him stumbling sideways, his form completely broken.