Ethan lay on his cot, the silence in his cell now oppressive without the presence of Jason or the others. He spoke quietly to the System.

"So, this is Basic Elemental Mastery level," Ethan said, rubbing his middle finger against his thumb. Between them, a small but brilliant blue lightning bolt danced to the rhythm of their movements.

[That's right. It's fascinating, don't you think? Now you can control lightning at will. Just imagine...]

Ethan closed his eyes and visualized the lightning. Not like electricity, but like a tiny, playful dragon. He immediately began breathing using the QI Breathing technique. Controlling the lightning consumed an incredible amount of energy; Without the technique, he would barely last a few seconds before being left exhausted.

The tiny lightning bolt began to grow, expanding until it was the size of his hand, cracking with contained power. Ethan controlled it with his mind. The sphere floated and moved with difficulty, and he realized that the further it moved from his body, the more control Ethan lost. As he brought it closer, he regained some control.

Ethan made the sphere move like a pet, circling and amusing himself with his new toy. Little by little, exhaustion began to overcome him. He decided that was enough but didn't know how to reabsorb the lightning energy.

He panicked for a second, trying every means to pull the lightning back into his body. I have lost control. The small electric snake launched erratically, striking the wall of his cell.

CRACK!

A dry, resonant explosion shook the corridor, sounding like supernatural thunder. The crash reverberated throughout the entire prison, starting everyone.

Ethan burst into roaring laughter upon seeing the destructive power of the lightning. He now had an incredibly powerful secret weapon he could use to take enemies by surprise.

[Excellent! You mastered all the skills you bought. I should give you a prize,] the System said.

"Sure, what is the prize?" Ethan asked, anticipating something useful.

[Learning. Learning is the best prize. Hahaha!]

"Shut up, you piece of shit!" Ethan said, rolling his eyes.

[When I'm silent, you want me to talk, and when I talk, you want me to shut up. You are more bipolar than a woman on her period,] the System complained.

Ethan sighed and looked at the empty cell. Everything was too quiet. Perhaps the others managed to arrive without problems. I hope so.

[If I were you, I wouldn't count on that too much. Too much calm. Look outside,] the System warned.

Ethan stood up and looked out his cell window.

In front of him, along the corridor, a silent mob of about thirty individuals had formed. They were armed with whatever they could find: clubs, metal pipes, makeshift shivs, and pieces of broken chairs.

The guards were nowhere to be seen. It was as if, mysteriously, they were all absent at that moment.

Ethan laughed. This was it. Vance's final ambush.

He took off his shirt, showing a perfectly formed six-pack and a muscular torso, ready for the fight. He stepped out of the cell into the more spacious corridor and told the thirty men with a predatory smile:

"You had better leave. You won't be able to defeat me."

Several prisoners immediately burst into mocking laughter, insults spewing from their mouths.

"Look at the rich little boy! All alone now!" one inmate bellowed, brandishing a rusty pipe.

Then, a particularly confident brute near the front yelled: "Vincent sends his regards! Have fun!"

At the mention of that name, Vincent, Ethan's entire demeanor fractured. His playful, challenging smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold, terrifying anger.

Before, he had believed this whole ordeal was primarily Congressman Vance's political maneuver; now that he knew the old bastard Vincent was involved, the situation was fundamentally different. This was no longer politics; this was personal, blood vendetta.

The prisoner who spoke Vincent's name instantly regretted his existence.

Without measuring the distance or the consequences, Ethan charged. Two or three simultaneous swings from pipes and makeshift axes sliced through the air, aimed for his head and ribs. Ethan moved with impossible fluidity, his head snapping back just a millimeter from the arc of a blunt pipe. His leg elevated in a blindingly fast blur, descended without pity, and connected with the shouter's knee, shattering the joint with a sickening, audible snap.

The loud crack of bone silenced the rest of the mob better than any threat.

The other thirty men were utterly stunned. This individual was impossibly fast and fiercely decisive. They had believed he was merely a rich child protected by bodyguards; it seemed the people who had truly been protected were them.

What followed was not a fight, but a unilateral execution of overwhelming martial skill.

Ethan moved too fast for the naked eye to track, a ghostly shadow among the flailing, disorganized bodies. His entire being was a weapon of incredible effectiveness, his fists connecting in impossible angles and lightning-quick jabs.

He utilized the [Celestial Qi Resonance Scan], which flowed outward like an invisible, sensitive web, allowing him to perceive the exact origin and trajectory of every incoming blow. It was like having eyes on all sides of his body, granting him supernatural foresight. Nothing could touch him. He moved like a single, indomitable leaf in a raging storm, gracefully dancing through the furious, clumsy attacks.

CRACK! A roundhouse kick grazed one man's jaw, sending him spiraling into the concrete wall, his face pale and slack.

SNAP! A short, precise hammer fist drove into another's elbow joint, folding the limb backward against its natural bend.

His movements were born from the highest refinement of his technique, the [Dao Martial Technique of the Fist]. Every punch was imbued with focused, internal energy, bypassing crude brute force for overwhelming penetrating power. Ethan didn't need to swing wildly; he needed only a fraction of an inch to deliver devastating force.

One inmate, swinging a heavy metal tube, roared in frustration as Ethan sidestepped his blow. Ethan responded by ducking under the weapon, driving his knuckles into the man's solar plexus. The man collapsed, gagging, every ounce of air expelled from his lungs, his ribs likely fractured internally.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.