Slaying through the universe, I am the ancestor mark
Chapter 158: Hooliganism Without Realizing It
"Haha, sorry for the spectacle, everyone."
At this moment, Mark stepped forward to smooth things over.
It was as if he wasn't the one who had just acted like a hooligan and invaded someone else's planet.
"Just now, I felt an immediate connection with the lady before me; I truly wanted to discuss the true meaning of life with her."
"The evolutionary process of the Viltrumites, the rotation of the cosmic galaxies, and the impact of the ebb and flow of tides on the Viltrumite Empire's speed of conquest."
What a long and complex sentence!
The group of illiterate Viltrumites expressed: Well said, but you said a lot! I didn't really understand any of it!
"You damned illiterates!"
Mark was very angry that no one could understand his performance art!
Once he became the Viltrumite Emperor, he would definitely establish a massive amount of basic education!
First, he'd start by implementing nine hundred years of compulsory education!
If I don't make you Viltrumites study until you resent the world, my name isn't Mark Grayson!
"What are you standing around for? Hit him!"
Seeing her teammates just standing there dazed, Anissafinally snapped.
Are you guys blind?
Can't you see I'm being molested by him?
Fine if you're blind, but now that I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, are you deaf too?
With that shout, the other Viltrumites finally snapped out of it.
General Kreigg, Anissa, and Thula all moved simultaneously, intending to strike Mark.
Even Lucan, whose waist and abdomen were half torn away by Nolan, lunged forward with a 'Diamond-Solid Seven-Day Lock,' latching onto Nolan in an attempt to put him in a rear-naked choke.
But Nolan had no intention of resisting.
He floated in the air, watching his son being besieged by a group of Viltrumite warriors.
Watching that brat who still found time to wink at Anissawhile fighting, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curled up slightly.
He was starting to follow Mark's train of thought just a little bit.
And that was—Mark seemed to have taken a liking to Anissa.
After some deep consideration and utilizing the Viltrumites' super-intelligence regarding this situation...
He decided!
Not to use his super strength for the time being.
This was a good thing!
Perhaps after Mark and Anissa got together, they could even produce a grandson with even purer blood for him.
What would be a good name for a grandson?
How about Markie?
When Viltrumites conquer planets, they often pass through the atmosphere.
And within the atmosphere, massive friction and violent storms formed by the convergence of water vapor are sights they frequently encounter.
Those clouds are heavy as lead, those lightning bolts tear through the sky, and those rainstorms pour down like waterfalls.
To Viltrumites accustomed to the vacuum of space, these are merely the most common embellishments of a journey.
To the fragile creatures on the ground...
The thunderstorms and gales in the sky, and those bean-sized raindrops surging down incessantly—to them, this is extreme danger!
The wrath of the heavens!
A punishment sent by the gods!
Those weak races will tremble in the thunderstorms, lose their homes in the floods, and wail in despair in the hurricanes.
They will kneel and pray, offer sacrifices, and build temples, trying to trade their piety for a sliver of mercy from the sky.
But for Viltrumites, all of this is like passing clouds.
It cannot hurt their bodies, much less cause them the slightest impact.
Their skin can withstand the thousands of degrees of heat from atmospheric friction.
Their muscles can resist impacts ten thousand times more violent than this, and their will can endure loneliness ten thousand times longer.
Gales?
Merely a breeze brushing against the face.
Rainstorms?
Merely dew wetting their clothes.
Lightning?
Merely a lantern lighting the path ahead.
At least, that is what General Kreigg had always believed.
At this moment, the few remaining hairs on his balding head were blowing erratically!
Those few strands of greyish-white hair danced wildly in the airflow, like dying snakes struggling in their final throes.
His skintight suit could not provide him with the slightest sense of security at this moment.
That thin, form-fitting combat suit that had once followed him through the conquest of hundreds of planets...
At this moment, it felt like it was made of paper, making him feel nakedly exposed before some indescribable horror.
He seemed to see a violent storm!
Not the kind in the atmosphere, not the physical kind, but a deeper, more essential, and more despair-inducing storm—a storm of power.
Heaven and earth revolved because of this wind and rain; the heavy rain poured down as if it were a divine punishment.
Those raindrops were not water, but fists.
That wind was not air, but momentum.
That thunder was not electricity, but killing intent.
As a Viltrumite, he seemed to see a violent storm unique to them!
Facing the siege of three elite Viltrumites, even the Grand Regent would have to focus one hundred percent to respond!
Seeing that Nolan did not intend to intervene, Lucanabandoned Nolan.
Clutching his side, he charged toward Mark.
General Kreigg, Thula, Lucan.
Three warriors ranked in the top ten of the Empire, three powerhouses who had experienced countless life-and-death battles, three existences sufficient to make any planet tremble.
Their coordination was seamless, their offensive was like a tide, and their killing intent was like freezing ice.
Kreigg struck from the front, his fist carrying a sonic boom, the weight of ten thousand tons, and all the experience of his thousand-year military career.
Thula cut in from the side, her figure like a phantom, her legs like scissors, attempting to lock onto Mark's throat.
Lucan flanked from the rear, his arms like iron pincers, intending to pin Mark down firmly.
Three forces, three directions, three killing moves.
But then, General Kreigg was grabbed by the throat by Mark's hand!
That hand seemed to penetrate the gale and the curtain of rain, arriving forcefully before him!
All defenses were useless before that hand, all parries were half a beat slow, and all power felt like a clay ox entering the sea.
Kreigg couldn't even see clearly how that hand passed through his fist; it was already pressed against his throat.
Irresistible!
In the next second, Mark's body twisted, his arm swung violently, and he slammed General Kreigg hard into the ground!
Chapter 159: It's Not Shameful!
BOOM—!!!
The earth trembled once more.
The sound was dull yet powerful, like a meteorite slamming into a metal plate, or a thunderclap exploding right next to one's ear.
Craig's body was embedded into the rock layer, the surrounding ground cracking into a spiderweb pattern as pulverized stone dust rose into the air like a trail of grayish-white smoke.
A mouthful of fresh blood sprayed from Craig's mouth.
The blood was dark red, shimmering faintly under the sunlight as it splattered onto the grayish-white rocks like a blooming poppy.
A Viltrumite's internal organs were still far too inferior compared to their physical bodies.
Their skin could withstand lasers, their muscles could tear through steel, and their skeletons could shatter mountains.
But the internal organs remained the softest parts of that perfect physique.
The impact of that single slam left General Craig lying dazed on the ground, his eyes vacant.
His pupils were dilated and his gaze empty; though his eyes reflected the blue sky and white clouds, it was as if he saw nothing at all.
Due to the constant concussions, his brain struggled to focus. His thoughts were like a scattered puzzle, pieces floating in his mind but unable to form a complete picture.
At that very moment, Lucan wrapped his arms around Mark's waist.
Great, I've got him!
Next is to push him toward Thula!
Lucan didn't yet know that Thula's blade had already been crushed by Mark.
He thought that as long as he pushed Mark toward Thula, she could follow up with a throat-slitting strike.
No matter how strong this guy was, he would have to go down!
That was until Thula's startled cry rang out from the side!
Lucan looked up, only to see Mark raise a fist and give him a slight smile before the fist slammed down violently!
Thump!
Another hole was smashed into his chest. Lucan coughed up a heavy spray of blood and collapsed completely to the ground, unable to rise again.
"You piece of trash!"
Thula roared!
After losing the sharp blade she took such pride in, this female warrior of Viltrum didn't lose an ounce of her ferocity!
The blade that had accompanied her for thousands of years was shattered, but her will was not.
Her body was her weapon, her legs were her blades, and her teeth were her edges!
She swung her legs directly around Mark's neck!
Those two legs were like two pythons, coiling tightly around Mark's throat. Her muscles tensed, veins bulged, and her joints locked in place.
This was one of the Viltrumites' most lethal strangulation techniques—once locked in, even a warrior of the same level would suffocate within seconds.
She held her hands high, fingers pressed together like knives, preparing to slam them into Mark's forehead!
If that strike landed, it would be enough to flatten steel, shatter rock, and turn any creature's brain into mush inside their skull!
But in the next second, her legs were pried apart.
Mark's hands gripped her ankles, and with a gentle pull, those two legs as hard as steel were separated like brittle twigs.
His movements were calm and unhurried, even carrying a hint of elegance, as if he were opening a long-awaited letter or unwrapping a beautiful gift.
A thick, large hand then caught both of the wrists she was about to strike with in one go.
Those five fingers were like iron pincers, pinning her hands together firmly without budging an inch.
Thula struggled desperately, the muscles in her arms bulging to their limit and veins popping out like earthworms, but that hand seemed welded to her wrists, unable to be moved even a millimeter.
A moment later, seeing General Craig about to crawl back up, Mark gripped Thula and slammed her onto General Craig's back.
BOOM—!
Both of them coughed up a heavy mouthful of blood.
Thula's body was pressed against Craig.
Their skeletons let out a dull thud upon impact; blood overflowed from the corners of their mouths, dripping down their chins and spreading across the rocks.
Anissa, who had been waiting on the side for a chance to ambush, quickly shifted her position.
Her movements were as agile as a cat and her footsteps as light as the wind. The moment Mark turned around, she had already retreated to a safe distance.
Her heart was racing—so fast that she found it hard to believe.
She had realized it: the strength of the person before her far exceeded her imagination!
How was this possible?
He's just a mere half-blood!?
Since when did such a powerful Viltrumite exist in this world?!
Mark's figure was reflected in her silver eyes.
That physique shimmering with a golden glow under the sun, those eyes that seemed to burn with the fire of a star, and that face—excessively young yet filled with the aura of a conqueror.
Her breathing was somewhat ragged, not out of fear—Viltrumites didn't know the meaning of fear—but because of something she couldn't explain or name.
"No need to be shocked. Losing to me is not shameful!"
Mark's voice pulled her back from her thoughts.
He stood there with his hands hanging naturally at his sides, his posture composed and his expression gentle, as if he were engaged in a friendly sparring match rather than crushing three elite warriors.
"On the contrary, I acknowledge your resilience and strength, warrior!"
He looked at Anissa with a smile.
That smile was exceptionally bright in the sunlight, carrying an indescribable charm.
It wasn't a smile meant to flatter, nor was it a condescending one. It was a heartfelt smile of appreciation, like an old friend reuniting.
Anissa's brow furrowed.
She sensed something in that smile.
It wasn't disdain or mockery, but something—she couldn't find the right words to describe it.
It was like the composure of a hunter looking at prey he was certain to catch, or the genuine appreciation of a connoisseur looking at a work of art.
Her pride was stung.
As one of the strongest female warriors of the Viltrumite Empire, when had she ever been looked at like this?
Even Grand Regent Thragg would maintain basic respect when facing her.
And this half-blood, this barely-adult brat, this mongrel who came out of nowhere—he actually dared to look at her with such eyes!
Sensing the other party's slight toward her, Anissa could no longer endure it.
She lunged at Mark ferociously!
Her speed was pushed to the limit, leaving a silver-white afterimage in the air.
Her body was like a fully drawn bow, her arm like an arrow released from the string. Her fist carried the sound of breaking wind, along with all the anger and humiliation she had accumulated, aiming straight for Mark's face!
Like a leopard pouncing on its prey!
Her momentum was sharp and resolute, her killing intent cold and blazing.
She wasn't just trying to defeat Mark; she wanted to let this ignorant boy know that the female warriors of Viltrumwere not to be taken lightly!
But facing Anissa's oncoming fist, Mark grabbed her wrists with both hands and pulled her into his embrace once again.
The movement was as smooth as flowing water, executed in one go as if it had been rehearsed countless times.
He stepped aside to dodge the punch, grabbed her wrists using her own momentum to pull her into his chest, and then—
He gave her another round of intense kissing.
Chapter 160: Who Do You Take Me For?
Anissa's mind went blank.
Her lips were sealed, preventing her from making any sound.
Her hands were held tight, rendering her unable to move.
Her body was firmly fixed in Mark's arms, as if locked by iron chains.
His lips pressed against hers again, carrying a dominance that brooked no refusal, and a tenderness that was impossible to resist.
She wanted to resist, but her body went soft involuntarily.
She wanted to bite him, but her teeth couldn't find the strength.
She wanted to curse him, but her throat could only emit muffled "mhm-mhm" sounds.
The momentum she had finally managed to build up was interrupted once again.
That momentum was like a punctured balloon, deflating instantly.
That killing intent was like a doused fire, leaving only a few wisps of blue smoke.
That anger was like melting ice and snow, turning into a pool of warm spring water.
Anissa was on the verge of tears.
This wasn't a fair way to bully someone.
I'm trying to have a proper fight with you, what do you take me for?
Your wife?!
"Mmm, even after kissing you again, the taste is still wonderful!"
Mark smacked his lips twice, as if savoring an exquisite dish.
His expression was satisfied and intoxicated, with the lingering warmth of Anissa's lips still on the corners of his mouth.
"You are truly disgusting."
Anissa spoke with a face flushed bright red.
That red spread from her cheeks to the base of her ears, and from her ears to her neck, as if a fire were burning under her skin.
Her voice was trembling—not from anger, but from something she couldn't quite explain.
She couldn't put on that fierce expression anymore because she felt her body was weak.
Like a piece of butter placed under the sun, she was melting bit by bit.
Her legs were going soft, her arms were going soft, and even her consciousness was beginning to soften.
Mark directly tucked Anissa under his arm, looking exactly like a bandit who had kidnapped a woman from a good family.
Anissa struggled twice in the crook of his arm, but finding she couldn't break free at all, she simply gave up resisting.
Her face was buried behind his shoulder, not letting anyone see her current expression.
"Dad, take me to the Grand Regent's palace."
Mark looked at Nolan with a smile.
"Actually, we might not need to go to the palace."
Nolan landed next to Mark with a smile. He was still holding his father's corpse in his arms, but his expression had relaxed considerably.
"After making such a huge commotion, I expect the Grand Regent will be arriving soon."
"Nolan!
Is someone like you even worthy of the title 'Great'?!"
General Craig crawled out from under Thula and rebuked Nolan.
Traces of blood still hung from the corner of his mouth, and the place on his chest where Mark had kicked him still throbbed with pain, but his eyes burned with fury.
"You actually betrayed the Empire?!"
As a general of the Viltrumite Empire, he was also a figure who regularly boosted military morale.
His voice was as loud as a bell, his posture as majestic as a mountain, and his loyalty as hard as steel.
He had shouted for the glory of the Empire in countless speeches, and he had bled for the Empire's flag in countless battles—he told himself that he was extremely loyal to the Empire!
So loyal that within one month of going to Earth, he had dated a total of over a dozen girlfriends!
"Don't misunderstand, Craig."
Nolan's voice was calm and composed, as if stating a simple fact.
"This isn't just anyone; this is my son!"
He reached out and pointed at Mark.
"He is no enemy; he just turned eighteen this year!"
The air froze.
"Huh?"
General Craig was stunned.
His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes widened, and his whole being seemed to have been hit by a pause button.
His brain stopped functioning in that instant, and all his thoughts felt as clean as if they had been formatted.
Anissa, in Mark's arms, was also stunned.
She forgot to struggle, forgot to resist, and even forgot that she was still tucked under Mark's arm.
She just stared blankly at Mark's youthful face.
Looking at his well-defined jawline, his deep black eyes, and the cynical smile at the corner of his mouth.
Lucan was also stunned.
He lay on the ground, blood still seeping from the wound on half of his abdomen, but his eyes were wide and round, staring straight at Mark.
Thula was also stunned.
She crawled up from Craig's back, not even having time to wipe the dirt and blood off her body, and just hovered there blankly in mid-air.
Several people looked at Mark's explosive muscles, his dignified face, and his aura like that of a sun god...
This is fucking eighteen years old?!
"No, how is that possible?!"
General Craig's voice was trembling.
It wasn't fear; it was shock.
It was the kind of instinctive reaction produced when the brain cannot process information in time after a worldview has been completely overturned.
"To have such strength at eighteen—even we pure-blooded Viltrumites could never achieve that!"
His voice grew louder and more excited.
"Let alone a mere hybrid—what race did you breed with?!"
A certain fanatical light flickered in his eyes.
This wasn't just a hybrid; this was practically racial evolution!
If every hybrid could have Mark's current strength, then the Viltrumite Empire would grow bigger and stronger, reaching new heights of glory!
And Mark was only eighteen; in the eyes of Viltrumites, that was a child among children!
There was massive room for improvement!
A Viltrumite's lifespan was also completely proportional to their strength.
Judging by Mark's current strength, his lifespan would definitely be incredibly long!
Long-lived, powerful, and so skilled in combat with no sign of weakness!
This was just too Viltrumite!
As soon as they realized Mark wasn't an enemy, or rather, was one of their own kind, the hostility of Craig and the others dropped immediately.
This was a good thing!
With the Viltrumites currently dwindling in number, the sudden appearance of such a powerful junior was simply a blessing from the heavens!
What?
You say Mark and Nolan just gave them a beating?
To hell with that!
To Viltrumites, that's not even an issue!
As long as your son is willing to stay in the Viltrumite Empire, never mind pulling out my internal organs—even if you break my limbs, I'll still praise the good child for having great strength.
"You should have said so earlier, Nolan!"
General Craig was now feeling helpless.
His voice carried a sense of grievance, as if saying "why didn't you say so sooner," and a touch of resentment for having "taken a beating for nothing."
"You should have said earlier that you found a race capable of carrying Viltrumite genes."
He brushed the dust off himself, trying to regain some of his general's dignity.
"Why come back to the planet so secretly?"
He paused, then added:
"Quickly now, let's go see the Grand Regent together!
Immediately, all of us Viltrumites will go and conquer that planet!"
His voice became increasingly excited and fanatical.
"The lifeforms on that planet can definitely carry Viltrumite genes perfectly!
In less than a century, the Viltrumite Empire will once again welcome glory!"
He spread his arms and looked up at the sky, as if embracing a bright future.
"Nolan—you truly are worthy of the title 'Great'!"
Chapter 161: The Grand Regent!
The three Viltrumite warriors nearby were also excited.
Lucan clutched his wound and struggled to sit up, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.
Thula flew up from the ground, her gray hair fluttering in the wind, a slight smile on her lips.
Anissa felt Mark's powerful arms, the warmth and heartbeat coming from his chest.
"You should have said earlier that you were one of our own!"
Actually, being a hybrid wasn't so bad; at least Marklooked exactly like them, and could even be described as extremely handsome!
As for Anissa's age of two thousand years?
That wasn't a problem; among Viltrumites, Anissa was currently equivalent to a twenty-year-old human.
Still the age of a college sophomore!
A proper college girl in the prime of her youth.
"A wife three years older brings a pot of gold."
Two thousand years older? You're embracing the whole Earth!
For a moment, Anissa couldn't help but gently bite her lip, which still carried Mark's heavy scent.
Oho...
"Sigh..."
Seeing his fellow clansmen so excited, Nolan also felt a bit of pity.
His gaze moved from Craig's face to Lucan's, then to Thula's, and finally rested on Anissa's.
A glimmer of hope shone in all their eyes, a light that reminded him of Viltrum many years ago.
The prosperous and vibrant Viltrum that had not yet been destroyed by the scourge virus.
But there was no choice; I cannot stand by and watch you invade my wife's home planet!
My son and I will definitely find a new way for the Viltrumite Empire to survive!
Seeing his old man hesitate, Mark didn't intend to let him play the villain.
After all, his old man would be the ruler of Viltrum in the future, so he had to maintain his prestige.
"You seem to have misunderstood one thing."
Mark suddenly spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a nail driven into the ears of every Viltrumite present.
He looked coldly at General Craig.
That gaze was as cold as a knife, devoid of any emotion.
It wasn't anger, nor was it killing intent, but something deeper.
It was the look of a creature at the top of the food chain looking down.
The previously excited General Craig was stunned.
Then he saw Mark's eyes.
A gold-red glow seemed to be brewing within the blackness, like two collapsing stars, like two gates to hell.
It wasn't the excitement of battle or the fury of anger, but something more pure and essential.
General Craig understood what kind of emotion that look represented.
This was the gaze of a conqueror!
"Earth is not for you to invade!"
Mark's voice echoed across the open land like a thunderclap.
"Who gave you the nerve—"
He paused, the gold-red light in his eyes growing brighter and more intense.
"To plan an invasion of my Earth!"
Mark roared directly!
The next second, Heat Vision erupted from his eyes!
Two gold-red beams of light, like swords of judgment, shot straight at General Craig!
Wherever the beams passed, the air was ionized, the ground scorched, and space itself slightly distorted!
General Craig instinctively tried to dodge!
But the beams were too fast!
So fast that before his nerves could react, the two searing lights had already pierced through his body!
*Pfft!*
The sound of flesh being pierced exploded in the air.
General Craig looked down at his chest.
Two charred holes appeared on the right side of his chest.
The edges were still smoking, and the blood was instantly sealed by the high temperature, without a single drop flowing out.
His heart was intact—Mark had specifically avoided it.
Craig fell to the ground, coughing in pain.
Every cough aggravated the wound in his chest, the burning sensation causing his muscles to twitch involuntarily.
His eyes were filled with disbelief!
"How could a mere fifty-thousand-degree energy ray harm my body?!"
But then General Craig noticed the burning sensation in his flesh, a symptom of unstable Smart Atoms.
"solar particles!?"
There was no mistake; it was solar particles!
The red vision Mark fired contained an extremely vast amount of solar particles!
General Craig looked at Mark in shock once again.
Are the humans on Earth that impressive?
To think they could make this child evolve to such an extent?
He had directly overcome one of the Viltrumites' greatest banes—solar particles—and even made them his own!
Suddenly, the sunlight was blocked.
A massive shadow descended from the sky, enveloping the entire battlefield.
The shadow outlined an extremely burly figure.
The figure was like a mountain, a steel tower, a giant from ancient myths holding up the heavens and Earth.
The shadow continued to sway, and it could be vaguely discerned that the red robe behind the newcomer flapped in the wind, like a burning battle flag in the sunlight.
"Junior of my race, release my warriors!"
A deep voice descended from the sky like thunder, like a tolling bell, like an echo from the depths of the Earth.
"I command in the name of the Grand Regent of Viltrum!"
Mark turned his head.
He saw a body with extremely bulging muscles.
At a height of 2.1 meters, he was all muscle!
Not the exaggerated, well-defined muscles built in a gym.
But muscles tempered by countless battles, like cast iron, each block containing destructive power.
The muscles stretched his white uniform taut, as if it might rip at any moment.
The pinnacle of combat power in the Invincible world!
The ultimate King of Gu bred from the Great Purge that wiped out half of the Viltrumites!
The Viltrumite Grand Regent—Thragg!
His black buzz cut looked serious and heavy in the sunlight, every strand of hair lying flat against his scalp, meticulous.
His neatly trimmed mustache showcased the rigorous style of the Viltrumite Empire.
And that face, which bore a striking resemblance to Zhou Shuren, highlighted the extreme capability of the man before him in both literary and martial arts.
He could crush stars with his fists and govern an empire with his mind.
Chapter 162: The Successor of My Great Viltrum!
Mark's eyes sized up Thragg without the slightest hint of fear.
His gaze moved from Thragg's buzz cut to his eyes, from his eyes to his mustache, from his mustache to his muscles, and from his muscles to his cape.
Thragg felt no annoyance; instead, he nodded with satisfaction.
"Quite a fine junior!"
His voice was thick and deep, carrying the majesty of an elder and the appreciation of a warrior.
"Though you are not pure-blooded, both your strength and spirit have earned my recognition."
He paused, his bottomless eyes staring straight at Mark.
"I acknowledge you; you are a true Viltrumite!"
He reached out his hand.
That hand was broad and heavy, with thick knuckles and palms covered in calluses.
It was a hand that had experienced countless battles, a hand that had crushed countless planets, a hand sufficient to carry the fate of the entire empire.
"Kneel before me, young warrior!"
His voice left no room for doubt.
"Your potential delights me, and your spirit has earned my approval!"
He looked down at Mark from his height; there was no hostility in those eyes, no contempt, only a pure, heartfelt appreciation.
"Now, swear your loyalty to the Empire.
I can make you a guarantee—"
The corners of his mouth curled up slightly.
"Once I abdicate, you shall be the next Viltrumite Grand Regent!"
Thragg extended his hand directly toward Mark.
He could be said to be more than satisfied with the junior before him.
Because Mark represented not only immense combat power but also the hope for the revival of the Viltrumite Empire.
As the first hybrid born from Earth, Thragg intended to support Mark as a king.
This was to deepen the rule over Earth and strengthen the new hybrid race's identification with Viltrumite culture!
Sunlight shone from behind Thragg, plating him in a golden rim.
That hand hung in mid-air, waiting for Mark's response.
"You want me to kneel to you?"
Mark laughed and smoothed back his hair, the movement as casual as if he were fixing his hairstyle in his own living room.
Sunlight leaked through his fingers, casting mottled shadows across his face.
He set Anissa aside with gentle movements.
He took the opportunity to give Anissa another kiss on the cheek.
That kiss was quick and precise; before Anissa could react, his lips had already pressed against her cheek.
Anissa's face instantly turned burning red, the flush spreading from her cheeks to her ears, and from her ears to her neck, as if a fire were burning under her skin.
But this time, Anissa didn't use much force to stop him.
She just kept her head down, her silver eyes fixed on the ground, her eyelashes trembling slightly, and her fingers unconsciously twisting together.
Mark stood up straight and pointed a single finger at Thragg.
That finger was as straight as a sword, carrying an unquestionable sharpness.
"The one who should be kneeling is you!"
His voice exploded across the open land like a clap of thunder.
"You are the challenger, Viltrumite Grand Regent!"
"Oh?"
Thragg smiled and raised an eyebrow.
Those two thick, black eyebrows arched up, squeezing several deep wrinkles into his forehead.
He wasn't angry.
Such a vibrant Viltrumite junior would not make him angry.
Quite the opposite: this reckless arrogance that knew no bounds, this courage to throw a punch at the strong, this all-consuming pride—this was exactly how a Viltrumite should be.
What Thragg hated most were those weaklings, those who lacked the warrior spirit.
Those cowards who knelt on the ground praying for peace, those useless piles who hesitated in battle, those fools who mistook living in disgrace for wisdom—they were not worthy of being called Viltrumites.
But the Mark before him was excellent!
"Good, you have spirit!"
Thragg praised him directly.
His voice was as resonant as a bell, carrying the gratification and pride an elder feels when seeing a junior show promise.
He even laughed, the corners of his mouth turning up to reveal several neat teeth, his eyes narrowing into slits.
Nolan and the others watched in a daze.
This Grand Regent rarely smiled during this time.
In Nolan's memory, Thragg's face was like the starry sky of Viltrum—forever cold, solemn, and unreachable.
He had seen Thragg angry, he had seen Thragg cold, and he had seen Thragg on the battlefield looking like the Grim Reaper descending.
But smiling? Almost never.
"You must be a very special breeding individual."
Thragg's voice fell from above, carrying a certainty that seemed to perceive everything.
"Though I can judge that the dominant species on that Earth should be roughly the same as us in appearance and build—otherwise your looks would never be so perfect—"
His gaze swept over Mark, from that sharp-featured face to that body with its smooth muscle lines, to those eyes burning with golden fire.
"But the mere genes of an ordinary species from another planet could never allow you to progress to such a degree!"
His voice suddenly rose.
"Because we Viltrumites are the most superior race in the Universe!"
That voice was like a verdict, like truth, like an ancient proverb carved in stone.
In Thragg's worldview, this wasn't arrogance or conceit; it was fact!
Viltrumite genes were the pinnacle of cosmic evolution; no species could compare.
"So, just now, I reached a conclusion—"
He paused, his bottomless eyes staring straight at Mark.
"You are an extremely rare mutant individual!"
Thragg descended from the air.
The moment he landed, the ground let out a dull tremor, as if struck by a meteorite.
The soles of his feet sank into the rock layer, and spider-web-like cracks spread in all directions.
His two-meter-ten frame cast a huge shadow in the sunlight, shrouding Mark entirely.
He stood before Mark, looking down at the young man who was a full head shorter than him.
"A rare mutant individual, and one mutated toward combat."
"Such individuals are rarely born even in thousands of years of the Viltrumite Empire! And never has there been one as perfect and powerful as you!"
His voice grew low, carrying the excitement of a Scientistdiscovering a new species.
"Not only have you overcome our race's weakness to solar particles, but you've also attained such physical quality before even reaching eighteen!"
He reached out, his broad palm hovering above Mark's shoulder without descending, as if measuring the power hidden within this young body.
"Your achievements will surely surpass mine."
His gaze became distant, as if piercing through time to see the far future.
"Therefore, I intend for you to become the next Viltrumite Grand Regent."
He withdrew his hand and stood with his arms behind his back, his red robe fluttering gently in the wind.
"The new race bred from Viltrum and Earth is the mainstream of the coming era; you are the successors of my great Viltrum!"
Undoubtedly, at this moment, Thragg was a truly wise emperor worthy of the name.
He was not the kind of ruler who sat on a throne just to issue orders, but a leader who truly thought for the future of the Empire.
His gaze was not limited to the present; it pierced through the long river of time, seeing the survival of Viltrumhundreds and thousands of years later.
Chapter 163: Still Growing!?
If it were possible, Thragg would certainly hope that all Viltrumites were absolutely pure-blooded.
But that goal had been shattered hundreds of years ago.
The scourge virus took the lives of tens of billions of compatriots, leaving behind fewer than fifty survivors.
The crisis of racial survival hung over the head of every Viltrumite like the Sword of Damocles.
This was also the reason he was dedicated to finding a race that could perfectly carry Viltrumite genes.
At the very least, he didn't want any mutations from other races added to the Viltrumite foundation—Thragg could not accept their perfect bodies growing tentacles or changing skin color.
And the Mark before him was perfect!
Judging from Nolan's direct rebellion against the Empire, the genes of that race were definitely the most compatible with Viltrumites in the Universe today!
So, from the very first moment he saw Mark, he had already decided—the person before him and the race he would lead were the future of Viltrum!
The bloodline and will of Viltrum would continue on that planet, within that race!
"But... my chosen future Grand Regent!"
Thragg's voice suddenly turned cold.
Those eyes, which had been filled with appreciation and relief just moments ago, now became as sharp as knives.
"You have misunderstood one thing!"
He spread his arms, and his entire aura underwent a world-shaking change in an instant.
He was no longer a kind elder, no longer a wise emperor, but an ancient beast awakening from a long slumber.
His gaze became ferocious, his fighting spirit blazing!
"At least at this moment! The strongest in this Universe is me!"
The voice was like thunder, like a tsunami, like the heavens and earth splitting apart.
It erupted from Thragg's chest!
It carried all the power accumulated over thousands of years, all the bloodlust forged from the Great Purge, and all the majesty inherent in the title of Grand Regent.
"If you want to show me your colors, wait until your own era!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Thragg directly threw a fierce punch at Mark!
The speed was extreme—so fast that the air in front of his fist was compressed into a white shockwave, and the surrounding space slightly distorted.
His cape fluttered behind him like a burning battle flag, but he did not take it off.
He wanted Mark to know who was the strongest of this era!
Mark had no intention of avoiding it and threw a punch straight back!
His fist met Thragg's with the same determination, the same pride, and the declaration of war against fate from an eighteen-year-old youth.
BANG—!!!
The two fists collided!
The sound wasn't a 'bang', but a 'boom'!
It was the explosive sound of air being instantly displaced, the groan of space under immense force, and the destructive sound only heard when two planets collide.
A shockwave exploded from the point of contact, sweeping outward like a tsunami.
Everywhere it passed, rubble was sent flying, dust was kicked up, and even light seemed to bend.
The earth trembled, and the sky changed color.
"Oh, you can actually match my strength?"
Thragg's voice came through the shockwave, carrying a hint of surprise and excitement.
"Since the Great Purge, it has been a long time since I've encountered someone who could wrestle with me!"
His eyes lit up with the glow of a predator encountering a worthy opponent.
"Haha, junior of my race, you are truly excellent!"
He laughed loudly, the sound echoing across the open land, making the very air tremble.
He even took a moment to look at Nolan; his gaze held no blame or anger, only pure, heartfelt appreciation.
"You've done well, Nolan!"
His voice was as loud as a bell.
"You found such an excellent compatible race for our people, and you bred such an outstanding successor!"
He pulled back his fist, took a step back, and stood with his hands behind his back.
"I hereby pardon your crime of betrayal!"
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile.
"After all, I cannot kill the biological father of the next Grand Regent!"
Thragg waved his hand and tossed his cape aside.
The red robe unfurled in the air like a massive banner, blotting out the sun.
General Craig flew over, caught the cape steadily, and respectfully stepped aside.
"Again, junior!"
Thragg resumed a fighting stance, feet shoulder-width apart, fists raised level with his face.
His muscles tensed again, each one looking as if cast from steel, gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
"Let me see if your shoulders can bear the name of Viltrum!"
He suddenly launched a kick at Mark!
The kick carried the sound of breaking wind, the weight of ten thousand tons, and the trial of a king for his successor!
Mark swept out with a whip kick.
CLAP—!!!
Another deafening roar.
The two legs collided in mid-air, the shockwave exploding again, sending rocks jumping and dust rising several meters high.
The two separated due to the Shockwave, each backing up several steps.
"Hahahahahaha!"
Thragg laughed; there was no anger or killing intent in that laughter, only pure, unadulterated joy.
"If that's the case, I will only laugh out loud!"
After confirming Mark's physical endurance once more, Thragg held nothing back and charged at Mark with a few running steps!
That was no ordinary run-up.
His feet pushed off the ground, each step leaving a deep footprint and cracking the surrounding earth.
The Shockwave generated by a Viltrumite's powerful body during a run-up, combined with extreme flight capability.
This was a combat technique unique to the ViltrumiteGrand Regent!
Pragmatic and practical, without any flashy nonsense!
Thragg could see that Mark was too young and lacked combat experience.
He would use the upcoming battle to properly train Mark's moves!
The next king of the great Viltrum could not have any shortcomings!
Facing Thragg's lunge, Mark tried his best to evade.
His body twisted rapidly in the air, attempting to sidestep.
But the speed from Thragg's double burst of power was truly astonishing; his body was like a cannonball, pouncing onto Mark before he could fully dodge!
Mark's eyes narrowed, and he slammed a fist hard into the bridge of Thragg's nose!
BANG!
The punch landed solidly, without any flair.
Thragg's head snapped back, nosebleed erupting from his nostrils and tracing a dark red arc in the sunlight.
He furrowed his brows in pain, sent flying by Mark's punch, tumbling twice in the air before barely stabilizing himself.
"Don't just look down on people so casually, Grand Regent."
Mark withdrew his fist and stood his ground, looking at Thragg with a calm gaze.
"You, who can be sent flying by a single punch of mine, are fit to be called a king?"
Thragg took a few steps back and snorted out some blood.
The blood fell onto the grayish-white rock layer, blooming like a dark red flower.
His furrowed brows gradually relaxed as he looked at the blood on his palm, then raised his hand to wipe his nose.
"You truly never stop surprising me—"
He looked up at Mark.
In those eyes, there was no longer the kindness of an elder or the majesty of an emperor, but the respect of a warrior for a warrior.
"Warrior."
Thragg no longer addressed Mark as 'junior'.
He had truly felt Mark's formidable strength!
At this point, using seniority to look down on the opponent would be the act of a weakling!
Since your strength is not inferior to mine, you are my equal!
Another dash.
This time there was no warning, not even a wind-up!
Relying purely on flight speed, he arrived horizontally in front of Mark, raised his hand high, and chopped down with a palm strike!
Chapter 164: It Seems We Have the Same Type of Fighting Style
That hand-blade was as fast as lightning and as heavy as a landslide, carrying the sound of breaking wind, intent to kill, and all the respect a king has for a warrior!
Mark used his arms to block it head-on.
"Clang—!!!"
A sound like clashing metal exploded, and sparks flew everywhere.
Mark's arms went numb from the shock, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to endure it.
He suddenly kicked Thragg in the abdomen, but Thraggblocked it with his knee!
The two of them immediately began to clash!
At this moment, neither of them spoke any more trash talk.
Their fists collided in the air, their legs clashed in the atmosphere, and their bodies spun, dashed, and dodged under the sunlight.
Every impact was accompanied by an explosion of shockwaves, every clash by the cracking of the ground, and every exchange of glances by a surge in battle intent.
Mark felt that Thragg's combat techniques were indeed extensive.
Thousands of years of combat experience were not accumulated for nothing!
Every punch he threw was perfectly timed, every block was precise, and every dodge was calm and composed.
His body was like a precision War Machine; every movement had been tempered a thousand times, and every move contained the wisdom of millennia.
But—
My stats are higher than yours!
Mark was also hit by Thragg several times, and blood was now seeping from the corner of his mouth. The blood was pale gold, sticking to his teeth with a metallic, rusty sweetness.
But there was no pain in his eyes, only excitement.
He smiled, continuously bombarding Thragg's body with his fists!
One punch!
Two punches!
Three punches!
Every punch was heavier than the last, faster than the last, and more ruthless than the last!
Thragg's expression grew increasingly solemn.
This young man, his strength...
It's actually increasing!
How is this possible!?
Thragg's gaze became heavy at this moment.
That heaviness wasn't fear or anxiety, but something more fundamental, more pure—shock.
The speed of this growth was so clear!
It wasn't the kind of slow evolution that happens over days and months through subtle influence!
It was a literal, tangible strengthening that I can feel happening every single second!
With every punch-to-flesh collision, he could feel something within that young body waking up, expanding, and burning.
Is this how you reached such a level in just eighteen short years?!
The Grand Regent began to feel the pressure.
Unprecedented!
He felt an unprecedented pressure from this young warrior.
That pressure didn't come from strength or speed.
It didn't even come from the Smart Atoms frantically multiplying inside that young man's body!
It came from something deeper.
It was that insatiable hunger, that tireless madness.
It was that uncontrollable instinct to grow stronger the more he fought, and to fight more the stronger he became, like a wildfire sweeping across a plain.
This is truly...
This is truly...
Too wonderful!!!
Thragg roared towards the sky!
That roar wasn't a mournful cry of pain or an angry growl.
It was a heartfelt, hearty release, as refreshing as drinking thousand-year-old wine!
His body suddenly snapped back, like a longbow drawn to its absolute limit.
His spine arched, his muscles tensed, every fiber was gathering strength, and every cell was roaring.
That fist, tensed to the extreme, was like a sharp arrow ready to fly from the bowstring, carrying the sound of breaking wind and killing intent!
Carrying all the respect a king has for a warrior—it smashed down ruthlessly!
Even Mark couldn't help but be startled!
If he took this punch head-on, even he would be coughing up blood on the spot!
The air in front of the fist was compressed into a visible white shockwave.
Even space itself slightly distorted under that terrifying power, and gravel on the ground was swept up by the air currents, splashing in all directions like bullets.
When a person is strong enough to deal with two ordinary people at once, it doesn't mean they are truly invincible.
At least not in terms of defensive power.
Even a 1.8-meter-tall man with a sturdy build cannot simply tank someone else's beating.
If your stats haven't reached a level of total suppression, defense is extremely necessary!
Mark crossed his hands, forearms together, and forced himself to block this strike!
"Bang—!!!"
A shockwave exploded from where the two collided, sweeping out in all directions like a tsunami. Gravel was overturned, dust was kicked up, and even light seemed to warp.
Mark's feet plowed two deep furrows into the ground, his soles making a piercing screech as they rubbed against the rock.
His forearms were trembling, his bones were groaning, and his muscles were protesting—but he held on.
He grinned.
A very nice move; he had learned it!
It seems it's the same type of Sta... fighting style as mine!
His body leaned back, just as Thragg had done, tensing his entire being into a bow.
His spine arched, his muscles tensed, every fiber was gathering strength, and every cell was roaring.
His fist was pulled back to his waist, gathering power, gathering, and gathering again—
At this moment, Mark felt an unprecedented power.
Every part of his body was exerting force.
Every muscle was contributing its strength to this punch, and every bone was transmitting its energy for this strike.
This was the ultimate feat possible only when wrapped in a Bio-field!
Concentrating the strength of the entire body into a single point, like compressing the entire ocean into a drop of dew, or folding the entire sky into a grain of dust.
"Fighting this match with you was absolutely the right choice!"
Mark smiled, his smile exceptionally bright under the sunlight.
Then, he threw a punch.
A heaven-shaking shockwave rippled out!
That shockwave didn't just explode from the fist, but from Mark's entire body!
From his tensed spine, from his bulging muscles, and from his burning Smart Atoms—it all erupted simultaneously.
The shockwave was like a tsunami, a landslide, a collapsing sky, sweeping in all directions. Everywhere it passed, the ground cracked, gravel flew, and dust filled the air!
If Thragg didn't have a buzz cut, his hair would be dancing wildly right now!
But at this moment, he stood there calmly, one hand held out in front of him, like holding up an umbrella in a rainstorm.
"Ceasefire!"
The voice was neither high nor low, neither fast nor slow, yet it clearly penetrated the shockwaves, the wind, and the loud cracking of the earth, reaching everyone's ears.
Amidst the wild winds, Mark's fist finally stopped one centimeter in front of Thragg's palm.
If that punch had landed, it would have been enough to shatter mountains, tear the earth apart, and make this planet tremble.
But it did not land.
It hung there, like a Sword of Damocles over one's head, like an unfinished sentence, or a dream without an ending.
"Are you trying to disappoint me?"
Mark's gaze became fierce.
That fierceness wasn't anger or killing intent, but something more blazing.
He was in the middle of a satisfying fight, and then you suddenly call for a ceasefire.
This was as uncomfortable as being halfway through a bout of diarrhea and suddenly being plugged with a wine cork!