Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat - Chapter 694

Chapter 694: The Art of the Humiliating Slap

“You son of a bitch! I can’t stand hearing that pompous ‘this esteemed one’ crap,” Ethan spat, his anger flaring. “Anyone who talks like that has a few screws loose and is just begging for a beating.”

This idiot was clearly in the wrong, yet he carried himself like he was God’s gift to the world. The sheer arrogance in his tone made Ethan’s skin crawl; it was the kind of smugness that demanded a fist to the mouth.

Down below, Regis, Uncle Jed, and the other veterans of Ethan’s crew had been stunned into silence by that first punch. But they were also now deeply wary of the newcomer.

This guy was strong. Really strong.

Judging by the shockwave from their initial clash, the man had indeed blocked Ethan’s punch with a casual, almost dismissive motion. Any one of them could have probably stopped that blow, but none could have done it with such effortless ease. This world, Earth, was proving to be far more complex and dangerous than Ethan had ever let on.

“Ethan! He’s from the Divine Sea Temple!” The Third Princess, Star’s, voice rang out, laced with pure terror, echoing in everyone’s ears.

“You’re from the Divine Sea Temple?” Ethan’s face hardened as he heard her.

“Hahaha! So there’s a little Merfolk girl here after all!” the man boasted, his confidence surging now that he’d been recognized. “I am one of the 108 Stewards of the Divine Sea Temple, Rank 79! Scared now, aren’t you? Hah! Now, which one of you triggered the Heavenly Tribulation? Step forward and let me have a look. I’m taking you back to the Temple as an offering for the Master. I’ll be handsomely rewarded… hehe… As for you,” he snarled, turning his gaze back to Ethan, “you dared to ruin my robes! I’m going to sink you to the bottom of the ocean and seal you in a marine trench!”

Misinterpreting Ethan’s serious expression and Star’s fear as submission, Steward Seventy-Nine grew even more arrogant. He drifted closer to Ethan, a swagger in his flight.

“Go to hell, you dumbass! Bear Form—Heavy Strike!”

CRACK!

As the Steward swayed into range, Ethan’s open palm connected with his face with the force of a wrecking ball, sending him spinning through the air.

“Gah—!”

The man hadn’t even seen the blow coming. This time, he hadn’t had the slightest chance to dodge or block.

His body pinwheeled violently. His robes, flaring out around him as he spun, looked almost like a grotesque ballgown for a moment. A spray of blood and countless white flashes—his teeth being ejected from his mouth—accompanied the pirouette. The sight made everyone below wince in sympathetic pain.

Ethan, however, looked down at his own hand with a satisfied nod.

“Not bad… a hundred percent accuracy within two meters. Activating the skill enhancement doesn’t even disrupt the flow.”

He didn’t know when he’d perfected this move, but it now carried an indefinable, natural rhythm, almost like a law of the universe. Even if his opponent had been on full alert, dodging it would have been nearly impossible. What had started as a crude, humiliating tactic had been refined by Ethan into an art form.

Regis and the others were stunned. A powerhouse from the Divine Sea Temple had just been slapped so hard his teeth became projectiles.

“You’ll pay for thith!” the Temple elite slurred, finally stabilizing himself. His words were barely intelligible through his newly ventilated cheeks.

CRACK!

Despite his mangled mouth, his hands were still fast. He formed a claw like an eagle’s talon and lunged for Ethan.

But before he could close the distance, Ethan’s figure blurred.

The same move. The same sound.

Only this time, it landed on the other, equally stubbled side of the man’s face.

“Aaaagh!”

Another cry of pain as the Steward tumbled head over heels through the air.

“Told you you were an idiot,” Ethan taunted, his voice cool as he flexed his hand. A strange light flickered in his eyes. A moment before, the man’s claw attack had locked onto him with immense pressure. But then, the 10,800 nascent stars within his core had vibrated in unison, and the locking sensation simply vanished, the crushing weight dissipating into nothing.

Furthermore, with every movement he made, those stars danced and shimmered like musical notes, releasing waves of an unknown energy that flooded his body. Each slap felt smoother, more instinctive than the last. It was as if he was making a breakthrough in real-time.

Seeing an opportunity, Ethan pressed his advantage. His body became a flicker of motion, sticking to the Steward like a shadow. Every time the man tried to regain his footing or mount a defense, Ethan would materialize beside him, greeting him with the same contemptuous, open-palmed strike.

This continued for several breathless seconds until Ethan suddenly leaned back, a streak of eerie white light narrowly missing him. The Steward had finally managed to draw a small, peculiar pistol, the same model Ethan had seen and dismantled with blinding speed during the fight with the Thunder Beast.

Everyone stared at the Steward’s head. It was hard not to laugh.

His face had swollen to a grotesque, horizontal mass, wider than his shoulders, resembling a giant, overripe pumpkin. The skin was stretched so tight it shone, looking ready to burst and spill its contents at the slightest touch.

Seeing Ethan retreat, the Steward scrambled back another thirty meters. “Ethan, was it?” he slurred, his voice a wet, bubbling mess. “I’m going to kill you!” He’d caught the name from Star’s warning.

BZZZT!

Suddenly, light gathered in his hand. A longsword began to materialize as if being 3D-printed from the air—first the hilt, then the blade, then the tip.

“Die!” he roared, charging at Ethan once more, sword raised high.

“Still coming back for more? Here, have another helping of palm!” A smirk played on Ethan’s lips as he called out, his body already in motion.

“Yipe!” The Steward, conditioned by the repeated humiliation, let out an involuntary yelp and froze mid-charge, his bravado shattered.