Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God
chapter-1043

Dyon had long since known that the root of comprehension was the soul. This was why beasts had to rely on their bloodline inheritances, to make up for their lack of comprehension abilities. With the amount of talent Dyon's soul had, who in the martial world could be his match in comprehension?!

It was far too rare for Dyon to actively cultivate techniques, so even he didn't take good note of how good his comprehension was. However, he should have known.

Dyon's weakest technique to date was his divine level movement technique [Celestial Wind Steps]. Despite having poor affinity for both wind and celestial will, Dyon still learned it to the second stage of its first act. Think about it, a technique only meant to be used by dao formation experts, comprehended by a young man who hadn't even begun to energy cultivate, at the time, to such a level.

If Dyon's comprehension wasn't demon-like, then whose was?

Dyon's eyes dulled before they suddenly shone with an unnatural light. Their warm hazel became a blinding gold as if he could suddenly see through the world.

Within Dyon's Mind's Eye, waves of energy began roll through, involuntarily awakening the rest of the spirits. Before any of the 13 of them could react, they suddenly felt a wave of oppressive energy.

Their heads snapped toward the center of Dyon's Mind's Eye, landing on the still suckling baby. Although they had all seen it before, they had made a tacit agreement to never talk about it again. But, now that very baby struggled slightly against its chains, rolling over in its sleep and gurgling with a happy smile on its face.

Such an unbearably cute action actually managed to send waves of fear through the 13 spirits, as though just a single wave of one of its chubby little fingers could obliterate them all.

At that moment, Dyon dodged to one side, circulating [Whipping Wind, Galloping Steps].

Unlike his divine levels techniques, usually split into nine stages, each of which had their own levels of completion, common level techniques were far simpler.

Without any prior reflection, Dyon immediately stepped into the first stage: initial success.

His feet glided across the air, syncing with the reflection of the technique in his mind.

The technique was reliant on the words whipping and galloping. There was nothing elegant about it, instead, it relied on strong legs to push off, leaving destruction in your wake.

Dyon's speed suddenly gained a massive boost. At that moment, he did something inconceivable: he put his wings away.

With his wills and energies sealed, it was impossible for Dyon to fly without his wings. Yet, he disregarded them without hesitation.

BOOM!

Dyon's foot slammed against the air, falling into a deeper state of comprehension as he flashed around the battlefield, not throwing even a single technique.

If one listened closely, every one of Dyon's steps sounded like a herd of galloping gazelles. His legs whipped downward so violently that the currents of air kept him in the sky.

At first, it was only the high-level essence gatherers that could keep up with him, but in the next moment, it became difficult for even saints to do so.

Dyon's body flashed, entering the small success stage in a matter of seconds.

The galloping herd became clearer and Dyon's speed increased once again.

If one looked closely, during the initial success stage, Dyon's foot slammed downward once per step. However, as he improved, one step became two, the two became three, by the time he broke into the small success stage, each single step of his was the equivalent of five steps.

His steps layered on each other, giving him the equivalent burst of five steps for his every one, increasing his speed to inconceivable levels.

If someone was observing, they'd be able to understand that this was a mere lower common level technique. However, they'd be incomparably shocked by its effectiveness. Even for the worst of techniques, how could the former number one sect in the cosmos accept mediocre techniques?

Elder Bowa watched this scene with a twitching lip. Was this young man using them to train? Or was he truly having trouble dealing with so many numbers?

"Is the communication still not working?" He asked his attendants.

"No, we don't know what's wrong!" One of the attendants shifted nervously. "We even tried using the smaller scale array like you asked, but it didn't work either, we don't understand what's going on."

Elder Bowa's features darkened. 'He really did damn us all! It'll take me years to fly back to Planet Cathedral… But if you were banking on that to die along with me, you'll be sorely disappointed. If I refine all of you into pills here, I'll have more than enough energy for the trip!'

His old wrinkled face became sinister. He disdained to step in personally against a mere essence gatherer, but he was more than happy to play with Dyon to death!

BOOM!

Dyon's steps became like loud cacophonic bombs going off underneath his feet as he broke through to the large success stage in what seemed like a blink of an eye…

Unfortunately for the enemies attacking him, he suddenly felt like it was time to try out another technique as his fists cocked backward…

Dyon's blood seemed to roar, causing Fist King's eyes to light up.

He looked like the king of a mountain, looking down on the world with just his fists to rely on.

A brown essence coated Dyon's fists as it slammed into his nearest enemy.

PU

The eerie sound of human life becoming a fountain of blood filled the crumbled auction house.

'This is how a man should be!' The Fist King spoke silently to himself. 'Ruling the world with nothing but the fists he was born with!'

If those of the Fist King's life knew that he was praising a junior using a mere lower common level technique, they might die in shock. But, despite the fact Dyon had only just stepped into the initial stage, his bearing was comparable to a man who wanted to rule the world with his fists, immediately gaining the Fist King's respect.

The truth was that Dyon wasn't so passionate about fist techniques, or any techniques, for that matter. There was only one thing he had in mind: to arrogantly stare down at the world from the heavens, no matter what technique it was that used.

His eyes continued to shine a blinding gold as his leg swung forward.

A cloud of wispy smoke trailed Dyon's kick as yet another head burst into a gory shower of blood.

Dyon body burst through the skies, disappearing and appearing at will…

Every disappearance dodged seemingly impossible to escape situations while every appearance resulted in a death.

[Sweeping the Clouds with One Leg] was a kicking technique with only a single form, a high kick sweeping forward with the majesty of the skies. However, Dyon delved right into the essence of it immediately as his mind comprehended more and more.

'What does it mean to sweep the clouds… It means being able to destroy something weightless with a thought, to make the formless bend to your will, to shatter what shouldn't be shattered…'

Dyon's thought were becoming more profound than even what the creator intended even as his movement technique seamlessly stepped into the completion stage, shocking his master to no end.

[Overbearing Mountain Bear Fists] was yet another technique that took its title very seriously. To be overbearing, to rule over a mountain, to have the power of a Bear.

Dyon's fists shattered through the initial success stage, climbing to the small success stage as the mighty roar of a Bear broke through the skies.

Fists and kicks rained downward, switching from one to another with ease.

The brown essence coating Dyon's fists became more refined, growing in luster and gaining an added sheen.

Dyon became a devilish nightmare for the essence gatherers, however he continued to use the saints to circulate and improve his movement technique.

To others though, it looked as though he wasn't confident in defeating them, so he avoided them, picking on the weak.

This caused constant jeers to sound from the enemy saints, however, even if Dyon could hear them, he wouldn't care. In the end, all those saints could do was rush after Dyon, trying their best to surround him.