Deviant: No Longer Human

Clink!

"Not so soon, little brother!"

The sound of metal against metal echoed as Master Long, who had spent the entire battle appearing as little more than a fragile old man, leaning on his cane like a senile bystander, suddenly moved with startling speed.

Swoosh!

He flew into the air, his long beard flowing behind him as he intercepted the Red boy's spear with his cane, a sharp gleam flashing in his once-closed eyes.

"Tsk!"

The Red boy clicked his tongue in frustration, his spear, which had been aimed straight for Murong Shan, halted mid-thrust by Master Long's seemingly ordinary cane.

Annoyance flickered across the boy's face as he took a step back, his red skin shimmering with faint heat as if he were holding back a blaze.

Shua! Shua! Shua!

In an instant, the red boy leaped backward with a burst of speed, but no sooner had he retreated than three identical illusions of Master Long materialized in front of him, each one holding the same cane and grinning mischievously.

The sight was uncanny—four versions of the same elderly figure, all exuding the same powerful aura, blocking every possible escape route.

"You've crashed the wrong party, junior," the illusions spoke in unison, their voices layered, filling the air with a growing sense of authority. "Allow this senior to teach you some manners."

For a brief moment, the red boy stood there, his expression frozen in disbelief.

But then, suddenly, his childlike laughter rang out, high-pitched and eerily cheerful. "Good! Good! It's been so long since I've had any real fun!"

The unsettling difference between his small, chubby body and his menacing aura was chilling.

He twirled his spear with ease, his excitement only fueling the intense heat that radiated from him.

Master Long smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Neither have I."

With a subtle flick of his wrist, all of Master Long's illusions encircled the red boy in the blink of an eye.

They shot upwards, their canes glowing with ancient aura, each one pointing directly toward the red boy at the center.

The four Master Longs moved in perfect synchronization, their attacks converging on the red boy in a precise and deadly formation.

Whoosh!

The air trembled as the canes descended, their tips glowing like shooting stars, all aimed at one single point—the heart of the grinning red boy.

CRASH!

The impact was deafening.

A shockwave exploded from the point of contact, sending waves of energy rippling through the battlefield.

Several nearby palm trees splintered and collapsed from the sheer force of the clash.

Despite the power behind the attack, the red boy stood at the center of the storm, his small form seemingly unfazed.

His lips curved into a wider smile, as if the deadly assault had merely been part of a game.

Around the battlefield, there were some who had opted for an even more foolish course of action than standing still—they were filming.

A few spectators who had been too shocked to flee had pulled out their devices, recording and even streaming the battle live, clearly oblivious to the danger.

They had no idea how close they were to becoming collateral damage in a fight between beings far beyond mortal comprehension.

As clips of the battle spread, the fight quickly garnered attention across the region.

Discussions of the clash between Great-Grandmasters exploded online, the comments lighting up like fireworks.

"The ugly monk's a 'Great-Grandmaster' at least, look at the way he's crushing everyone!"

"That kid in red is insane… is he a Great-Grandmaster too?"

"Wait, isn't that 'Master Long' from the Dragon's Gate Dojo?! This is amazing!"

Master Long, the venerable head of the Dragon's Gate Dojo, was a known figure across the Qing Dynasty.

Though he'd spent years in silence, stories of his incredible strength and mastery of techniques had made him something of a living legend in last five years.

His current strength, still at the Great-Grandmaster level, was revered far and wide.

Yet here he was, being pushed back by a pint-sized boy whose appearance completely defied the power he held.

People sucked in cold breaths as they watched the red boy effortlessly deflect blows that could flatten mountains.

Meanwhile, the four disciples—Xiao Lu, Xiao Chen, Xiao Feng, and Xiao Lin—were locked in a desperate struggle against the rampaging giant monk.

Though each of them was a Grandmaster in their own right, they were vastly outclassed.

The monk's wild, unstable energy made him nearly impossible to predict.

Every time they closed in, his massive limbs swept through the air like wrecking balls, slapping them aside as if they were flies.

Xiao Chen gritted his teeth, his face contorted in frustration as he narrowly avoided being flattened. "This… This thing's brute strength is unreal!"

"We can't get close without getting smashed!" Xiao Feng shouted, flipping backward as the monk's fist came crashing down where he'd stood a second earlier.

The force of the blow sent cracks racing through the ground beneath them.

A few other masters had attempted to help.

They rushed in, trying to assist Master Long's disciples in containing the monk's madness.

Unfortunately, they quickly learned the price of underestimating the beast.

One by one, they were swatted down, their bodies crushed into blood mist by the monk's wild, childlike tantrums.

"Fall back!" one of the surviving masters screamed. "We can't handle this!"

The soldiers standing at the perimeter of the battlefield, armed with rifles, hesitated.

Their fingers hovered over their triggers as they watched the chaos unfold, but none dared to fire.

Each bullet could just as easily hit their allies or Master Long himself.

They were paralyzed by indecision, not knowing whether to shoot or retreat.

"What… What should we do?" one of the soldiers muttered under his breath, eyes wide as he watched the red boy casually tear through a group of guards like they were nothing.

"Stay put," his commanding officer barked, though the uncertainty in his voice was unmistakable. "We wait for orders. If we shoot the wrong person, we're dead either way."

"Wait, look there!" one of the soldiers shouted, drawing attention to a figure approaching from the edge of the battlefield.

Draped in a crimson robe and with his face obscured by shadow, the mysterious figure moved with an eerie calm.

"Who... who is that?" one of the soldiers stammered, panic spreading as the figure's approach became clearer.

From behind the wreckage of the stage, several guests—who had managed to avoid the worst of the carnage—had taken out their devices, trembling hands gripping their phones as they streamed the battle live.

Cowering behind walls and debris, they whispered urgently to each other, the tension rising.

"Bro… bro, are you seeing this?" one guy whispered to his phone's camera, his voice shaky, yet tinged with excitement. "This is crazy… there's a new guy coming in! And he's got a… a sword on fire? What the hell is that?"

"I don't know, man," his friend muttered in reply, also speaking into his phone. "But if that's a third Great-Grandmaster, we're all screwed."

"Yeah, no kidding! This whole island's toast," another added, peeking out nervously from behind a toppled pillar. "Shouldn't we be running?! Why are we still here?!"

As the figure neared the battlefield, their expressions soured even further.

An ominous blue sword in his hand shimmered with silent flames, the light flickering.

Every step he took seemed to pull the breath from the air.

The viewers watching the livestream gasped audibly in the comments.

user123: "Holy crap, what's with the blue sword??"

battleFanatic: "That's so cool but also… I think we're about to watch something bad happen."

qi_Warrior_Fanboy: "That's gotta be a Grandmaster-level technique, no question."

Puchi!

The first strike was so fast that the livestream lagged for a second, and then…

With a single strike, the crimson-robed figure severed a soldier's head clean from his shoulders.

Blood spurted into the air, and the man's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.