Heaven Destroyer

Ayaan saw Victor changing target and going after Isobel instead of him and curled his lips into a disdainful sneer. "Huh!" while he glanced at Victor, Shawth arrived in front of him, holding a weapon like a sickle, and attacked. Ayaan saw the incoming attack and fought back, blocking the blow of the strange weapon from his sabre. This man was at the peak of the Larva Realm and unlike Victor he was a veteran in duals.

While Ayaan blocked his sickle, the ice underneath his feet trembled and turned to mush, liquefying. Though caught unprepared, Ayaan acted reflexively and used his own ice element and froze the melting ice below him before he lost the balance of his body. "Nice!" exclaimed Shawth when he saw Ayaan avoiding his trap easily. "You are also an ice elemental cultivator?"

"Boom!"

Ayaan replied to his question but with his sabre and the man stumbled back. His hands trembled, sore due to the vicious blow, and little surprise by the force behind the attack. He could feel and tell that Ayaan was only at the high level of the Larva Realm, but he could easily match him and even force him back miserably with his attacks. It was a big surprise for him to be pushed and shoved and forced back by someone who wasn't even his equal in cultivation.

"So you really found something in the tower boy, didn't you?" chuckled Shawth as he continued to tangle with Ayaan while floundering his sickle viciously at him.

"You want my secret?" Ayaan chuckled back. "Moron."

Shawth's face twitched, hearing his insult, but he swallowed his words and attacked. Ayaan was trying to anger him so he could take advantage of it, and he would not let that happen. He thought.

Fight continued, rustling noises filled the frozen river and beyond the river. Ayaan huffed and gasped and squealed as he fought, his face red, his clothes ragged, his hair scattered and his body drenched in sweat. His face red and knuckles white, his body ached and his bones churned. He did not reckon this bastard to be this tough. He was strong, far stronger than he thought, at least to make him run all over the frozen river and kick his ass when he got the chance to do it.

However Ayaan wasn't easy prey either. Shawth's arse as well ached and his expression turned grimmer every passing second. His hands trembled and his legs flailed on the icy ground. He felt as if he would lose his consciousness at any moment, but the fear of death drove him to push himself beyond the limits. He shouted and cursed and squealed more and more as time passed. Ayaan glanced at his face, into his eyes, and his mouth, and he felt as if his enemy was smiling—smiling into the eyes of death—and he felt some respect for this man he was fighting.

"Why do you serve the Heavenly Palace?" Ayaan asked as he blocked the sickle with his shining sword.

Shawth looked into Ayaan's eyes and shook his head. "I don't serve Heavenly Palace."

"Boom!" 

He attacked and forced Ayaan to take more than a few steps back and smiled a bitter smile. "I serve Lord Laun."

Ayaan tumbled back and jerked his hand and winced, but in the end, he once more stood, tall, proud, looking into his enemy's eyes. Then he turned towards the man, an old man with white hair, as he fought with two women and shouted like a maniac when he could not take the upper hand. He cursed and shouted, howled like a moron, and gasped like a dog from time to time. Once more Ayaan turned towards Shawth and asked with some interest. "Why do you serve someone like him?"

"It's none of your fucking business!" scowled the man and dashed at his adversary. Ayaan looked at him and laughed thunderously and as well dashed towards him. Not ready to look weaker than him, and when their weapons were about to meet, Shawth squatted down and sidestepped and "Puchi!" 

"Argh!" Ayaan howled miserably when the sickle grazed passed his back. If he had not acted at the last moment that sickle would have dug into his back and he would have laden on the ground, twitching, snorting, and on the mercy of his enemy. Life was as cheap as the salt, after all.

Ayaan maintained his distance from Shawth in a hurry and stood about ten meters away. However Shawth did not come after him immediately and stood where he was, trying to take long breaths. Ayaan placed his left hand on his back and felt warm liquid on it. Ayaan could almost imagine how his back must look right now, ragged, ripped, bruised, wet in blood. "I thought you would like to fight head-on," Ayaan shook his head self-mockingly at Shawth. He thought his enemy had some honour and wanted to fight him head-on, but it seemed Shawth did not share his thoughts.

"Head-on? Why would I?" Shawth almost laughed when he heard Ayaan and shook his head. "There is no right or wrong in battle, no good or evil because there is no honour in dying, there can't be any honour in dying, dying is dying after all and every death is miserable and full of pain and misery. There is no such thing as honour in this world. Only the winner matters and that would be me today."

Ayaan looked into the man's eyes and almost laughed at his own childishness. "You are right. There are no right or wrong. Whatever the winner says is right."

"You are a fast learner, boy," chuckled Shawth at Ayaan's word. "But it won't be any help."

"We will see," Ayaan winced in pain and his bones creaked in agony, but he ignored and grasped the hilt of his sword. At this moment his eyes turned cold as he looked ahead at the man. "I had a feeling that you aren't a wicked man, so I was trying to find the reason you serve people such as Luan, but it looks like I was wrong, you do not differ from them."

As he spoke, an unknown force covered Ayaan from all round and his face became colder and colder and his hair turned white as snow and fluttered in the air dashingly. He looked at Shawth and pointed with his sword. "Come!"