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Chapter 35: End of the battle

Ethan was watching the massacre from above. His eyes were calm. In this world, it was kill or be killed.

And he didn’t want to die—or let anyone close to him die.

So naturally, these monsters had to die.

Twenty flying knives were darting through the sky at incredible speed, their silvery arcs catching faint glimmers of light as they locked onto their next targets.

The forty-three remaining Grandmaster-level beasts were scanning the area, hunting for the source of the threat.

Then it happened again.

The same roar of despair—sharp, drawn-out, haunting. A death knell.

And just like that, silence.

Complete silence.

Even the insects forgot to make sounds.

Only twenty-three remained now.

Suddenly, Ethan spotted something—a cheetah. Or rather, a monster that resembled a cheetah. This cheetah was five meters long and exuded a violent, primal bloodlust. It stood directly below him, its golden eyes locked onto him with terrifying intensity.

The beast had found the source of danger.

It roared.

The sound split the air like a shockwave, sending tremors through the battlefield. That roar wasn’t just a threat. It was a summon.

And Ethan let it happen.

From various corners of the area, dozens more roars answered. The ground trembled slightly with each reply. The air turned heavy.

But Ethan didn’t send his knives toward the Grandmasters anymore. Instead, he redirected them—toward the top-tier Master-level beasts still hiding in the periphery.

Two minutes later, twenty-three powerful auras had gathered beneath him, each one brimming with rage. They were staring up, eyes filled with venom, locked on the solitary figure in the sky.

Ethan hovered only a hundred meters above the ground.

Then the cheetah crouched low. Its muscles coiled like compressed springs. It was positioning for a high jump.

It leapt.

Ninety meters into the air—almost reaching Ethan. Almost.

Then another beast stepped forward: a hedgehog the size of an elephant. Its body glinted in the soft light of the moon—metallic.

Then it shot its spikes toward Ethan. Its spikes, like javelins, shot outward in a storm of deadly projectiles.

Ethan calmly waved his hand.

A floating metallic shield shimmered to life under his feet, deflecting the darts with a chorus of sharp clangs.

Then, slowly, he began to descend.

The beasts watched in silence. Their enemy was coming down on his own. So they also stopped attacking. They were also measuring the threat level. What kind of threat they were facing, they didn’t know. This man just looked like a simple human ant. No powerful aura was leaking from him.

He landed gently, his boots crunching the dirt, his face unreadable.

This time, Ethan didn’t want to use his sword. He wanted to fight with his bare hands.

Back on Earth in his previous life, there were many forms of martial arts. But those martial arts were used mostly for sports or entertainment. But they looked cool—especially one in particular.

Wing Chun.

He remembered a Chinese movie about it. The main character had been played by one of his favorite actors—Donnie Yen. That movie had inspired him.

He’d once tried mimicking those moves in a park, fueled by passion. But a fat aunty jogging nearby had laughed so hard at him, he never dared to try again in public.

But now?

Now, things were different.

His mind was sharper. His memory perfect. He could recall every motion, every stance, every subtle angle and technique he’d ever studied, down to the smallest detail.

He closed his eyes.

And moved.

His hands shifted into position, body flowing into the Wing Chun stance with flawless precision. His limbs felt light, yet powerful—controlled, yet flexible.

Floating beside him were several shields—defensive constructs, humming with energy. Like loyal guards, they hovered, ready to intercept any unexpected energy blasts or long-range attacks.

And then—

The fight began.

The cheetah came first, a blur of yellow and black, its claws aiming straight for Ethan’s throat. But Ethan leaned back an inch, letting the swipe pass mere millimeters from his skin, then countered with a lightning-fast chain punch to its jaw. The beast was thrown back, sliding across the ground in a burst of dust.

It stopped breathing.

The hedgehog launched its spikes again—dozens of them. Ethan spun, dancing between them, his shields deflecting the rest. One spike grazed his arm—but he was wrapped in his armor skill, so it couldn’t penetrate its defense.

He smiled.

A four-legged beast with twin horns charged next. Ethan met it head-on. He lowered his stance, slid beneath its horns, and struck upward with a palm that shattered its jaw.

Behind him, a snake-like monster tried to wrap around his waist. Ethan didn’t turn. His elbow crashed down like a hammer, breaking its spine in one swift move.

But the monsters weren’t done.

Two tiger-like beasts pounced together. Ethan used a spinning kick to knock the first away midair, then followed with an open-palm strike that sent the second flying into a boulder, cracking it in half.

The shields beside him burst into motion—intercepting blasts of elemental energy from a fire-breathing lizard and ice shards from a manticore. The air turned chaotic—flames, frost, wind, and blood blending into a hellish battlefield.

Yet Ethan was calm.

Actually, he started to enjoy this fight.

Each movement was precise. Every block, every strike, every step a manifestation of focused destruction.

One by one, they fell.

A monkey-like beast tried to blind him with sand. Ethan closed his eyes and stepped forward. Blind, yes—but not helpless. His fists struck the creature’s ribs with brutal force, sending it into the ground with a howl.

Now ten remained.

They circled him. Their eyes were full of wariness, their bodies trembling. They were intelligent enough to realize—this wasn’t a normal human.

This was a predator.

A living calamity.

They attacked in unison—a final desperate charge. But Ethan dashed forward like a phantom.

His hands became a blur. Chain punches, palm thrusts, low sweeps, elbow jabs. He danced between them like wind, every strike exploding with power.

A final roar echoed across the battlefield—and then silence returned.

True silence.

No more roars.

No more threats.

Ethan stood alone, surrounded by fallen beasts. Blood dripped from his fists. But his eyes—still calm.

This was his path.

He would always stay at the epitome of everything.

He fought for one hour this time.

Then he concentrated his mind on his clones. The one that came with him was fighting three top-level Masters.

Ethan then scanned the area again. This time, no Grandmaster-level beast was alive. And his clone had almost killed half of the Master-level beasts. Ethan also helped by using his flying knives.

After his clone finished the three monsters, he called it back.

Ethan could see there were carcasses everywhere.

With a thought, they started pulling those carcasses from different places—twenty at a time.

The clone could lift fifteen. So they started gathering them in a single place.

Ethan also knew that his clones had killed some monsters. But they couldn’t kill those top-tier ones.

Ethan didn’t mind. He’d leave them for others. Monsters were excellent resources if they were not dangerous.

One more hour passed.

Ethan looked at the mountain of carcasses in front of him.

Then he called Commander Ray again.

He informed him about the hunt and gave specific information.

Ethan asked Ray to send trucks and soldiers to take back these materials. They could think about the price later.

On the other side, Ray just nodded. He knew this bunch of people were elites of humanity—probably came here to hunt monsters to make the area safe.

Ethan sat down, closed his eyes. He had thought he would fight for three days. But he finished every powerful beast near Base City 5 in one day.

Three to four hours later, fifty trucks entered his mental domain. They came to collect the carcasses.

63 Grandmasters.

3 Level 9,

5 Level 8,

7 Level 7,

9 Level 6,

12 Level 5,

14 Level 4,

13 Level 3.

Then around 600 Master-level monsters.

Every monster was huge. So they would need fifty trucks.

After one more hour, the trucks reached Area 30.

The soldiers driving the trucks were only Warrior-level. They never thought they would ever enter this dangerous area. But now they were entering it with huge trucks—and no beasts attacked them. They didn’t feel any palpitation in their hearts.

Because they knew—there was an elite from humanity waiting for them here.