Immortal Supreme: Sovereign of the Grand Dao
Chapter 265: Overload Armour: Pure Martial Challenge

Chapter 265: Overload Armour: Pure Martial Challenge

The roar of the crowd had barely died down when Thomas staggered to his feet. Blood trickled from his lips, and his chest heaved with each ragged breath. He lifted his head, eyes blazing with defiance.

"Wait," he called out, voice echoing across the silent arena. "I’m not done yet."

Arthur, still standing where he had struck, turned slowly. His long white-and-gold hair swayed in the wind. A faint smile curved his lips as he regarded Thomas.

"You really want more?" Arthur asked, voice soft yet full of power.

Thomas nodded, though his legs shook. "Yes. I... I have one more secret."

A murmur rose from the audience. Even the elders leaned forward, curious. Thomas reached behind his back and tore open his outer robe. Beneath it gleamed an ancient armor of deep crimson. Strange patterns, like winding rivers of fire, ran across every plate.

He spat a mouthful of blood onto the chestplate. The patterns ignited with a fierce red glow, each line flickering as if alive. The armor’s light pulsed, and a low hum filled the air. A terrifying pressure radiated from Thomas’s body.

Gasps came from every corner of the arena. Some of the older cultivators recognized the patterns as those of the Overlord Armor—an artifact lost for millennia, said to grant its wearer tremendous strength at the cost of overdrafting their life essence.

Arthur’s golden-blue eyes narrowed with interest. ’An ancient artifact, indeed,’ he thought. ’Interesting choice. Let’s see how much it really adds to his power.’

Thomas straightened, aura flaring around him. The red light painted his features in a fierce glow. He clenched his fists, veins standing out like cords of steel.

"Face me," he said, voice firm. "With raw strength alone. No concepts. No essence energy. Just flesh, blood, and martial skill."

Behind him, the thousands of spectators stirred uneasily. To challenge Arthur—already known as invincible—with only physical might was madness. Yet Thomas looked calm, even proud.

Arthur chuckled softly. "Very well. A test of bodies, then."

He let his Sword Dao energy recede, folding it back into his soul. The aura around him dimmed to a soft golden sheen. Under his simple training robe, his muscles stood out, toned and hard as carved jade—an immortal physique honed over countless lifetimes.

’This will be interesting,’ Arthur mused. ’His enhancement is no match for my physique. But let’s see how strong he really is.’

The two combatants took their stances. Thomas held his fists before him, each one crackling with red energy. Arthur stood relaxed, one hand hanging by his side. The gap between them—no more than fifty paces—seemed to shrink as tension coiled in the air.

On the signal, Thomas lunged. His fist swung in a straight line, carrying the weight of his entire body. A howling wind followed the blow, as if the air itself fled the crushing force.

Arthur shifted his position in a fraction of a second. His eyes flicked with amusement. He met the punch with a simple palm, pressing outward.

Boom!

The impact sent a shockwave that rippled across the arena. Sand and dust flew up in a cloud. The guards along the edge shielded themselves, but the crowd held its ground, eyes wide with awe.

Thomas’s momentum pushed him back three steps, but he did not fall. His red aura flared, and he roared, muscles bulging as he prepared another strike.

Arthur gave him an easy grin. "Strong," he said. "But you’re hitting an immovable wall."

Without warning, Thomas unleashed a series of rapid punches, each infused with the Overlord Armor’s power. The first punch rattled Arthur’s palm. The second made him step back. The third sent a ripple through his chest.

’He’s fast,’ Arthur thought, moments of surprise flashing in his mind. ’He really did refine his speed.’

But beneath his analysis he felt no real threat. He was simply amused by the challenge.

He raised both hands, crossing his wrists before him. The air stilled. Then, with a single breath, he pressed forward. His own palm collided with Thomas’s chest.

Crack!

A deep crack echoed as Thomas’s armor bent inward. A line split open like a fracture on still water. The red glow dimmed as the armor’s magic seeped away.

Thomas grunted, staggering backward. Blood spurted from his back where the armor bent. He gripped the broken plate, face twisting in pain.

The crowd fell utterly silent. Even the elders had never seen such strength from a mere palm strike.

Arthur stepped forward calmly. His voice was gentle as a breeze. "Enough."

In that moment, he struck again—faster than thought, lighter than air. His finger flicked against Thomas’s chest, delivering a blow that carried the weight of his chaos dragon physique.

Thomas’s eyes widened in shock as he flew backward. He crashed into the ground at the edge of the arena, carving a shallow crater. The crimson blood pooled around him.

He tried to rise but wavered, then slumped unconscious. Guards rushed forward to carry him away, but Thomas lay still, limbs limp.

A hush reigned over the audience. Then a single voice whispered, "He didn’t move..."

Others echoed the thought. From their viewpoint, nothing had stirred—only Thomas had been blasted away.

High above, the elders exchanged glances. Their eyes mirrored wonder and dread. Here stood a man who could shatter ages-old armor with a gesture, whose every move seemed beyond mortal comprehension.

Arthur watched as the guards carried Thomas off. He let his aura fade entirely, returning to the calm, unthreatening presence he preferred when not in battle.

’He has spirit,’ Arthur thought as he looked at the empty battlefield. ’And he had courage. But raw blood and armor are nothing against me."

Many were still in shock at this display.

’Does he even have a weakness?’ they begin to wonder.

Because so far they had seen him walk in triumph against all opponents regardless of their trump card.

"What kind of power is require to cause a crack in an ancient artifact?"

A spectating disciple asked.

"If you ask me then who should I ask?"