The Eye of Oblivion

Chapter 11 : The Challenge

The surrounding brawny men, eager for chaos, erupted into boisterous cheering. Even his father, brimming with enthusiasm, stood up, grabbed a ladle, and scooped a generous portion of fruit wine from the large clay vat. He poured it into a smaller vessel before lifting it to Yahan's mouth, proclaiming loudly:

“A man must drink! And my boy must drink well. Come, drink deeply, for this is what makes a true man!”

The fruit wine rushed into his stomach and throat, causing him to cough repeatedly, with the liquid spilling down his chin. A portion of the wine from the small clay jar was spilled, but the fiery sensation in his stomach persisted.

The men around burst into hearty laughter.

“To have such a father is a stroke of ill fortune indeed, bordering on child abuse,” Yahan muttered inwardly.

Before he could catch his breath, someone pushed him from behind, causing him to stumble and find himself in the center of the arena.

The boy in the arena was named Yaxiong, and his older brother was Yahu.

It is worth noting that Yahan owed Yahu a measure of gratitude. If not for Yahu’s kick at the age of four, which had dispersed the soul of the original owner of this body, Yahan would not be here now.

However, Yahan had never had such sentiments. As his strength grew, he had occasionally bullied little Yahu. Now that he had fought the younger sibling, the elder brother had come to exact revenge.

Yahu, now six years old, had already reached fourteen, and apart from a slight youthful appearance, was as formidable as any grown man. In a year’s time, he would be eligible to join the village hunting team.

Gazing at Yahu’s muscular physique, which seemed forged from steel, and comparing it to his own stature, which barely reached Yahu’s chest, Yahan felt a shiver. This was clearly a mismatch in weight classes.

Yahan’s fists tightened, his muscles rippling like mercury. Though his arms appeared slender, they concealed considerable strength.

During this period, his power had surged dramatically. After each training session, he felt a tangible increase in strength. What once required both hands and full effort to wield could now be lifted with one hand and swung with ease. In just three months, his strength had more than doubled.

Though victory seemed uncertain, the rapid increase in his power had given him some confidence. He had previously fought evenly with twelve-year-olds; perhaps now he could hold his own against this fourteen-year-old.

Yahu, clearly inebriated, swayed unsteadily on his feet, reeking of alcohol.

Yahan’s spirits lifted at this rare opportunity. He planted his feet, pushed off, and launched himself toward Yaxiong with the speed of an arrow. In an instant, he was before Yaxiong, tightening his fist and delivering a powerful punch aimed at Yaxiong’s abdomen.

In the dim firelight, Yahan’s keen eyes caught a glimmer of triumph in Yaxiong’s expression. Instinctively, he knew something was amiss. As his fist neared, Yaxiong suddenly sidestepped and swung an elbow toward Yahan’s head.

Before the elbow reached him, Yahan felt a cold, fierce wind.

Reacting swiftly, he rolled forward with the momentum of his punch, awkward but effective, avoiding the strike.

Yahan quickly regained his footing and faced Yaxiong once more.

The brawny men erupted in hearty laughter, and his father’s grin was wide. He continued to drink the fruit wine as if it were water.

Amid the revelry, Yahan focused intently, his expression growing serious. Yaxiong was the strongest opponent he had faced thus far. In terms of physical strength and combat awareness, Yaxiong was far beyond what a typical Earth-dweller like Yahan, accustomed to a life of comfort, could contend with.

Had it not been for his quick reflexes just now, he would have already been on the ground from Yaxiong’s blow.

Suddenly, Yahan’s eyes widened as a massive figure surged toward him. All he saw was a fist rapidly enlarging in his vision. He quickly brought his arms together to block the formidable strike.

“Boom!”

The collision of flesh against flesh produced a thunderous sound. Yahan was propelled several meters back, his arms numb and stinging. He stumbled backward, struggling to regain his footing, but Yaxiong pressed his advantage, delivering a relentless barrage of punches. The speed of the blows created a series of explosive noises in the air.

The speed was overwhelming, nearly too fast for the eye to follow.

Yahan found himself struggling to keep up, his defense faltering under the relentless assault. A strange force seemed to seep into his body with each blow, continuously depleting his strength.

Within moments, Yahan was caught off guard by a massive fist slamming into his chest. He was lifted off the ground and crashed heavily onto the earth. Gasping, he coughed up blood.

Defeated! Utterly defeated, with no ability to counter.

Yahan pushed himself up, coughing up a spurt of blood. He thought grimly, “Is this the true power gained through training?”

Rather than feeling dejected or enraged by his defeat, Yahan felt an increased yearning for the training he could only commence at the age of ten.

“Yahan, my brother, truly a man favored by the priest. Such great strength,” Yaxiong approached, helping Yahan to his feet and patting his shoulder with admiration.

Though he was not yet a match for Yaxiong, he had managed to force Yaxiong to use seven-tenths of his strength, despite Yaxiong being half his age and only relying on raw physical power.

Before ten years old, even the most talented child would struggle against a trained adolescent. Such feats inspired respect.

The seated priest struck the ground with his bone staff and, in a foreboding tone, proclaimed:

“The child of the Li family is exceptional. He will bring fortune to our tribe, making us a leading clan in these mountains.”

The priest’s concluding remarks elicited hearty laughter from the surrounding men, who continued to drink the fruit wine. The emergence of a powerful new member was cause for great excitement.

Although this boy had already been recognized by other priests and was destined to leave the mountains in the future, he was still one of their own. Furthermore, the priest’s words, always considered accurate, promised prosperity and success for the tribe.

The ancestral rites continued into the night, gradually winding down amidst the deep, resonant sound of horns and drums, marking the end of the ceremony and the beginning of a new year.