Chapter 2277: 2277
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'Calen Lagron, huh…' Dyon smiled lightly in response as a mighty blue spear appeared in Calen's hand.
It was a beautiful weapon indeed. It shone like sapphires in the deep sea, but its blade was a bright amber that radiated like the sun.
Complex runes graced its body like ancient tattoos. Its aura alone would make the weak find it difficult to even breathe.
Dyon had never been one to care much about the Weapon's Master profession. Though he had dabbled in it, it didn't make him feel the same feelings that Array Alchemy did. But, this weapon took his breath away.
There was a point long ago where Dyon stopped caring about the strength of his weapons. Often, he would even choose to battle with a common grade one. Sometimes he wouldn't even use a weapon at all but would rather forge something from his wills like his flame spear, for example.
The grade of a weapon simply didn't mean much to him anymore. This was mostly because he had been spoiled early. How many others could claim access to a vault filled with transcendent grade weapons without stepping a single foot on the cultivation path yet? Yet, those had been Dyon's circumstances.
This was all to say something very simple. The weapons… No… The craftmanship of dwarves was on a level Dyon had never seen before. The calculated elegance, the refined presence, the indomitable commitment to each precise detail… It made him feel respect from the bottom of his heart.
Looking at the dilapidated village around them, one would think that the dwarves had forgotten their roots. Why else would a race known for cities that could topple the heavens themselves suddenly be found in a place no different from the dredged of poverty?
However, it seemed they had translated all of that passion elsewhere and had gained Dyon's respect.
Dyon's smile deepened. "A fight? Sure, I can give you that."
Dyon took out a long, thin and flexible sword. Since he was playing the part of elven prince, why not go the extra mile? With his handsome and refined appearance, he couldn't very well take out a weapon only a brute could wield right? He had to keep things interesting for himself.
The blade was only a finger and a half in width, while it stretched for a length of a meter and a half. Every slight motion of Dyon's wrist not only reflected the dark red sun above, but also cause its body to wobble with a precise frequency.
"It seems that without us by your side, the weapons of our elven friends has taken a turn for the worst." Calen teased in a good faith jest.
Dyon grinned. "I'll have to rely on you all to bring me up and out of this poverty."
Calen laughed uproariously before taking a step forward. "Take my strike."
Those watching on were shocked into retreat. They had been so dazed that they forgot to get out of the way. If they stood so close in a battle between these two, they would only have themselves to blame for their deaths.
On the Ancient Battlefield, flight was simply too taxing, even for Dao Formation Realm experts. Usually, even battles of this caliber would take place on the ground. So, no one expected Dyon and Calen to think for their benefit and fly up and into the air. Who were they to ask two princes to waste their stamina like so?
Calen's spear tore through the air in a flash. Dyon's Perception caught every single detail. The way the wind seemed to give way to its blade, the fashion in which its runes synchronized with the movement of Calen's qi, even the unique rhythm its body vibrated it in, as though praying to the heavens for added strength.
'This weapon is far beyond the standards of the mortal plane. How beautiful…'
Dyon was so distracted that he seemed to react late. But when fighting someone so much weaker than him, was there ever such a problem?
Those who were below 1000 years old and at Dyon's cultivation level were non-existent. At best, one might make it to the 7th Dao Realm before that age. Any further was a pipe dream. The only reason Calen was confident in facing Dyon to begin with was due to the advantage of foundation geniuses of the Ancient Battlefield had.
Their qi was more robust, their bodies were far stronger, and every step they took was worth more.
Unfortunately for Calen who was of the Higher Dao Realm… The Ancient Battlefield was Dyon's constitution world for a reason.
Dyon's wrist flicked with an elegant flair as his feet moved in an enigmatic pattern. He seemed to slip away from Calen's spear that had been just moments from his ċhėst.
His flexible silver blade suddenly became as rigid as though it had never wobbled to begin with, accepting Dyon's qi like a starved animal.
Dyon's casual parry sent Calen's strike over his shoulder. It was so perfectly timed that Calen, who had just raised his foot to take another step forward, could no longer retreat.
All those watching so was Dyon casually stroll forward as though he was taking a walk in a park. Yet, despite the fact it seemed he was leisurely, Calen was somehow completely unable to react as the top of his hand was smacked by Dyon's sword.
A sharp pain the likes of which he had never experienced before suddenly coursed through his body.
In the next instant, he dropped his spear, unable to hold as a shocked expression colored his features.
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'Calen Lagron, huh…' Dyon smiled lightly in response as a mighty blue spear appeared in Calen's hand.
It was a beautiful weapon indeed. It shone like sapphires in the deep sea, but its blade was a bright amber that radiated like the sun.
Complex runes graced its body like ancient tattoos. Its aura alone would make the weak find it difficult to even breathe.
Dyon had never been one to care much about the Weapon's Master profession. Though he had dabbled in it, it didn't make him feel the same feelings that Array Alchemy did. But, this weapon took his breath away.
There was a point long ago where Dyon stopped caring about the strength of his weapons. Often, he would even choose to battle with a common grade one. Sometimes he wouldn't even use a weapon at all but would rather forge something from his wills like his flame spear, for example.
The grade of a weapon simply didn't mean much to him anymore. This was mostly because he had been spoiled early. How many others could claim access to a vault filled with transcendent grade weapons without stepping a single foot on the cultivation path yet? Yet, those had been Dyon's circumstances.
This was all to say something very simple. The weapons… No… The craftmanship of dwarves was on a level Dyon had never seen before. The calculated elegance, the refined presence, the indomitable commitment to each precise detail… It made him feel respect from the bottom of his heart.
Looking at the dilapidated village around them, one would think that the dwarves had forgotten their roots. Why else would a race known for cities that could topple the heavens themselves suddenly be found in a place no different from the dredged of poverty?
However, it seemed they had translated all of that passion elsewhere and had gained Dyon's respect.
Dyon's smile deepened. "A fight? Sure, I can give you that."
Dyon took out a long, thin and flexible sword. Since he was playing the part of elven prince, why not go the extra mile? With his handsome and refined appearance, he couldn't very well take out a weapon only a brute could wield right? He had to keep things interesting for himself.
The blade was only a finger and a half in width, while it stretched for a length of a meter and a half. Every slight motion of Dyon's wrist not only reflected the dark red sun above, but also cause its body to wobble with a precise frequency.
"It seems that without us by your side, the weapons of our elven friends has taken a turn for the worst." Calen teased in a good faith jest.
Dyon grinned. "I'll have to rely on you all to bring me up and out of this poverty."
Calen laughed uproariously before taking a step forward. "Take my strike."
Those watching on were shocked into retreat. They had been so dazed that they forgot to get out of the way. If they stood so close in a battle between these two, they would only have themselves to blame for their deaths.
On the Ancient Battlefield, flight was simply too taxing, even for Dao Formation Realm experts. Usually, even battles of this caliber would take place on the ground. So, no one expected Dyon and Calen to think for their benefit and fly up and into the air. Who were they to ask two princes to waste their stamina like so?
Calen's spear tore through the air in a flash. Dyon's Perception caught every single detail. The way the wind seemed to give way to its blade, the fashion in which its runes synchronized with the movement of Calen's qi, even the unique rhythm its body vibrated it in, as though praying to the heavens for added strength.
'This weapon is far beyond the standards of the mortal plane. How beautiful…'
Dyon was so distracted that he seemed to react late. But when fighting someone so much weaker than him, was there ever such a problem?
Those who were below 1000 years old and at Dyon's cultivation level were non-existent. At best, one might make it to the 7th Dao Realm before that age. Any further was a pipe dream. The only reason Calen was confident in facing Dyon to begin with was due to the advantage of foundation geniuses of the Ancient Battlefield had.
Their qi was more robust, their bodies were far stronger, and every step they took was worth more.
Unfortunately for Calen who was of the Higher Dao Realm… The Ancient Battlefield was Dyon's constitution world for a reason.
Dyon's wrist flicked with an elegant flair as his feet moved in an enigmatic pattern. He seemed to slip away from Calen's spear that had been just moments from his ċhėst.
His flexible silver blade suddenly became as rigid as though it had never wobbled to begin with, accepting Dyon's qi like a starved animal.
Dyon's casual parry sent Calen's strike over his shoulder. It was so perfectly timed that Calen, who had just raised his foot to take another step forward, could no longer retreat.
All those watching so was Dyon casually stroll forward as though he was taking a walk in a park. Yet, despite the fact it seemed he was leisurely, Calen was somehow completely unable to react as the top of his hand was smacked by Dyon's sword.
A sharp pain the likes of which he had never experienced before suddenly coursed through his body.
In the next instant, he dropped his spear, unable to hold as a shocked expression colored his features.
'Calen Lagron, huh' Dyon smiled lightly in response as a mighty blue spear appeared in Calen's hand. It was a beautiful weapon indeed. It shone like sapphires in the deep sea, but its blade was a bright amber that radiated like the sun. Complex runes graced its body like ancient tattoos. Its aura alone would make the weak find it difficult to even breathe. Dyon had never been one to care much about the Weapon's Master profession. Though he had dabbled in it, it didn't make him feel the same feelings that Array Alchemy did. But, this weapon took his breath away. There was a point long ago where Dyon stopped caring about the strength of his weapons. Often, he would even choose to battle with a common grade one. Sometimes he wouldn't even use a weapon at all but would rather forge something from his wills like his flame spear, for example. The grade of a weapon simply didn't mean much to him anymore. This was mostly because he had been spoiled early. How many others could claim access to a vault filled with transcendent grade weapons without stepping a single foot on the cultivation path yet? Yet, those had been Dyon's circumstances. This was all to say something very simple. The weapons No The craftmanship of dwarves was on a level Dyon had never seen before. The calculated elegance, the refined presence, the indomitable commitment to each precise detail It made him feel respect from the bottom of his heart. Looking at the dilapidated village around them, one would think that the dwarves had forgotten their roots. Why else would a race known for cities that could topple the heavens themselves suddenly be found in a place no different from the dredged of poverty? However, it seemed they had translated all of that passion elsewhere and had gained Dyon's respect. Dyon's smile deepened. "A fight? Sure, I can give you that." Dyon took out a long, thin and flexible sword. Since he was playing the part of elven prince, why not go the extra mile? With his handsome and refined appearance, he couldn't very well take out a weapon only a brute could wield right? He had to keep things interesting for himself. The blade was only a finger and a half in width, while it stretched for a length of a meter and a half. Every slight motion of Dyon's wrist not only reflected the dark red sun above, but also cause its body to wobble with a precise frequency. "It seems that without us by your side, the weapons of our elven friends has taken a turn for the worst." Calen teased in a good faith jest. Dyon grinned. "I'll have to rely on you all to bring me up and out of this poverty." Calen laughed uproariously before taking a step forward. "Take my strike." Those watching on were shocked into retreat. They had been so dazed that they forgot to get out of the way. If they stood so close in a battle between these two, they would only have themselves to blame for their deaths. On the Ancient Battlefield, flight was simply too taxing, even for Dao Formation Realm experts. Usually, even battles of this caliber would take place on the ground. So, no one expected Dyon and Calen to think for their benefit and fly up and into the air. Who were they to ask two princes to waste their stamina like so? Calen's spear tore through the air in a flash. Dyon's Perception caught every single detail. The way the wind seemed to give way to its blade, the fashion in which its runes synchronized with the movement of Calen's qi, even the unique rhythm its body vibrated it in, as though praying to the heavens for added strength. 'This weapon is far beyond the standards of the mortal plane. How beautiful' Dyon was so distracted that he seemed to react late. But when fighting someone so much weaker than him, was there ever such a problem? Those who were below 1000 years old and at Dyon's cultivation level were non-existent. At best, one might make it to the 7th Dao Realm before that age. Any further was a pipe dream. The only reason Calen was confident in facing Dyon to begin with was due to the advantage of foundation geniuses of the Ancient Battlefield had. Their qi was more robust, their bodies were far stronger, and every step they took was worth more. Unfortunately for Calen who was of the Higher Dao Realm The Ancient Battlefield was Dyon's constitution world for a reason. Dyon's wrist flicked with an elegant flair as his feet moved in an enigmatic pattern. He seemed to slip away from Calen's spear that had been just moments from his hst. His flexible silver blade suddenly became as rigid as though it had never wobbled to begin with, accepting Dyon's qi like a starved animal. Dyon's casual parry sent Calen's strike over his shoulder. It was so perfectly timed that Calen, who had just raised his foot to take another step forward, could no longer retreat. All those watching so was Dyon casually stroll forward as though he was taking a walk in a park. Yet, despite the fact it seemed he was leisurely, Calen was somehow completely unable to react as the top of his hand was smacked by Dyon's sword. A sharp pain the likes of which he had never experienced before suddenly coursed through his body. In the next instant, he dropped his spear, unable to hold as a shocked expression colored his features.
