System S.E.X. (Seduction, Expansion, eXecution)

Chapter 774: Chapter 774: Fall of the Protector

Ethan’s words hit the hall like a bucket of ice water. Never in the empire’s history had a young cultivator dared to insult an entire territory and a Spiritual Transcendence Realm expert with such raw contempt right before the Emperor himself. The neighboring kingdoms’ diplomats remained in absolute silence, holding their breath for the impending storm.

"You miserable big-mouthed brat!" Garth roared, the veins in his neck bulging to the bursting point. "I will slaughter you and skin your corpse!"

Without waiting another second, Garth crossed the line carved into the floor. The moment his foot touched Ethan’s side, the mana of an intermediate Spiritual Transcendence Realm cultivator erupted as a dark golden aura, heavy and suffocating, enveloped his body like solid armor while his runic sword let out a deafening hum.

The elder charged forward like a berserk beast, launching a brutal thrust toward Ethan’s throat. Yet, instead of blocking the attack, Ethan simply took a subtle step to the side, letting the blade pass by, brushing his robe. With every swing from the elder, Ethan shifted with ghostly grace, dodging every strike by mere millimeters without the slightest physical effort.

Suddenly, Ethan came to a halt and raised his left hand. A surge of necrotic energy and dark shadows erupted from his palm, spreading like an ink stain across the hardened glass floor.

"I don’t need to dirty my hands with a decrepit old man," Ethan whispered.

From the arena floor, dozens of silhouettes crafted from shadows and bone began to emerge. They were undead warriors, each radiating the overwhelming pressure of the Dao Manifestation Realm. In a matter of seconds, the pit filled entirely with a spectral army of hundreds of fallen soldiers surrounding Garth from every conceivable angle.

Ethan walked backward with deliberate leisure and stationed himself behind his legion. Arms crossed with his black sword resting at his hip, he looked down upon them like a true emperor of death, observing the elder with icy contempt.

"What is this demonic magic?!" Garth screamed, feeling a cold sweat trickle down his neck as he swung his runic sword in desperation.

"Attack!" Ethan commanded in a calm voice.

The tide of undead surged toward Garth like a famished swarm. The Rising Sun protector roared in desperation, channeling all his golden mana into his runic sword. With a violent twist of his hips, he unleashed an arc of fire and light that shattered the first three spectral warriors; their shadow bodies erupted into black ash, but the air didn’t even have time to clear.

Before Garth could reset his stance, two skeletal soldiers emerged from the smoke, thrusting their corroded spears against his cuirass. The impact clanged like a sledgehammer on metal. Though Garth’s golden barrier deflected the tips, the momentum forced him back half a step. A third undead, wielding a double-headed axe wrapped in necrotic fire, lunged straight for his neck. Garth raised his left arm to block, taking the axe blow head-on; the impact shattered the protection on his sleeve, leaving a deep, freezing burn across his skin.

"Damned rotten souls, out of my way!" Garth screamed, beside himself.

Summoning his full strength as an intermediate Spiritual Transcendence Realm cultivator, he slammed his sword into the glass floor. A golden shockwave expanded across a five-meter radius, pulverizing a dozen specters around him. Yet, for every undead destroyed, the shadows beneath his feet writhed, molding two more in their place.

Cadavric hands burst from the ground, locking onto Garth’s ankles with an iron grip of pure frost. The elder tried to shake them off, but a heavily armored warrior with eyes of blue fire swung a downward slash against his shoulder. Garth blocked with his runic blade millimeters from his face, feeling his knees buckle under the horde’s combined weight. Another specter capitalized on the opening to flank him, plunging a shadow dagger deep into his side.

The pain drew a gut-wrenching howl from Garth. Hot blood spurted across the golden fabric of his robes, staining it crimson. He tried to channel his defensive technique once more, but the blows were relentless: spear thrusts to the chest, slashes to his back, and spectral claws tearing at his face. The black tide was engulfing him entirely, suffocating his mana at a terrifying pace as the veteran’s endurance crumbled hit after hit under Ethan’s distant gaze.

The lack of cohesion in their ranks and the erratic nature of the undead completely bewildered the protector. Unlike living cultivators, the specters did not react to pain, possessed no vital points, and emitted no predictable killing intent; they simply kept moving forward even if severed in half. Unable to read their movements or anticipate their attack trajectories, Garth could not properly deploy his Spiritual Transcendence Realm power, wasting brutal bursts of energy on empty air while the shadows harassed him relentlessly.

"Damned abominations! Face me like real men!" Garth screamed, beside himself, swinging frantic, wildly disorganized slashes as desperation consumed his voice. "Where is your pride?! This isn’t a battle, it’s an abomination!"

His howls echoed through the pit, drowned out only by the relentless clash of steel and the brutal impacts that continued to wear down his defenses hit after hit.

Ethan strolled slowly along the edge of the pit, watching the old man’s frantic, futile suffering with his hands shoved into his pockets. A cold, mocking smirk touched his lips as the clash of spectral blades echoed through the chamber.

"I thought you were stronger," Ethan said in a serene voice, clear enough to carry over Garth’s screams. "All that noise about justice and honor, and this is the power of a provincial protector? What a disappointment."

Garth let out a howl of pure rage, trying to hack his way through the black tide, but the sheer volume of shadow soldiers was simply overwhelming.

High upon his throne, the Emperor watched the pandemonium for a moment before shaking his head with faint exhaustion. He rested his elbow on his armrest and fixed his gaze on Ethan.

"Enough, kid," the Emperor declared, his imposing voice freezing the chamber’s atmosphere. "In my palace, there is no place for such filth. Take your undead away, or I will erase them from existence right now."

Ethan froze in his tracks, sensing the subtle threat underlying the sovereign’s words. With a simple snap of his fingers, the tide of shadows and bone vanished into thin air, leaving Garth on his knees, gasping in a pool of his own blood on the glass floor.

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