Strongest Family System Chapter 114 114: Top Five Battle (Part 1)

The elder floated above the five stages, sleeves drifting like strands of dusk-colored smoke. The arena's noise had reached a pitch just below breaking—thousands of voices layered over one another, all of them Eager for the first clash of the Top Five.

The elder raised one hand—instant silence. His voice dropped through the stillness like a falling stone. "The first match of the Top Five… will be between Essie Osborn and Max Brooks."

The arena erupted. "ESSIE!"

"BROOKS CLAN TAKES THE FIRST ROUND!"

"She beat a Walker before—can she does it again?"

Robert closed his eyes briefly, steadying his breath. Essie exhaled slowly beside him, then stepped forward. Max Brooks was already walking toward the stage—shoulders broad, steps calm, his sword resting casually against his shoulder. His aura pulsed with stable, frightening force: Spirit Root Realm — Level 5 (Peak Stage).

A level of power honed through years of accumulated resources and training. Essie climbed to the opposite side of the platform. Her aura rose sharply, clear and sharp like a mountain wind: Spirit Root Realm — Level 4 (Peak Stage).

One whole realm beneath him. She knew it. Everyone knew it.

Still, she stood tall, lifting her sword in a smooth, respectful arc.

Max watched her with a faint, almost regretful smile. "you are strong," he said. "But this gap… It is wide, Essie."

She nodded. "I know." "But I will not step back." The elder lifted his arm. "Begin." The floor cracked under Essie's feet as she launched forward. Her figure blurred, drifting sideways at impossible angles—Drifting Leaf Shift.

Her body moved like a leaf caught in a clever current, slipping past the first sweep of Max's blade. The audience gasped as she spun around him, swinging her sword in a tight arc. "Sword Skill—Four-Direction Cleave!"

Four silver lines shot outward—north, south, east, and west—eting Max from every angle. Max's blade rose with frightening precision. He did not panic. He did not retreat. His sword traced a calm half-circle, golden light fluttering around his stance.

"Brooks Style—Mountain Guard Step." A barrier of condensed qi erupted around him, as solid as a wall. Essie's four arcs crashed into it, but they failed to break through. The crowd leaned in, breathless.

Essie's expression did not falter.

She vanished again. A whisper. A flicker. Her movent left afterimages circling Max in a tightening spiral. Max tracked her calmly, his sword moving in small, efficient arcs. "Fast," he murmured, "but not enough." Essie lunged for the opening she saw—an angle behind Max's right shoulder.

Her blade sliced forward, but Max had already turned. His sword flicked upward, blocking her with a soft ring. Essie felt the shock travel through her entire arm. She stumbled back half a step before regaining balance with another leaf-like shift. Max pressed forward this ti.

His blade descended in a heavy, sweeping strike. "Brooks Sword—Tidefall Descent." The air trembled. The very stage bowed beneath the pressure.

Essie darted aside—too late. The edge grazed her sleeve, slicing through fabric and leaving a faint line of blood across her arm. She hissed but did not slow.

She countered imdiately, slashing upward in a fierce arc. Max blocked again with minimal effort. Their blades collided: CLANG—CLANG—CLANG.

Essie's strikes were fast, brilliant, and precise. But Max's defense was too deep. Too asured. Every ti her sword found a gap, it closed instantly with perfect timing. He stepped forward. Essie slid back. He cut left.

She rolled under it, her hair skimming the floor. The crowd cheered her effort, voices rising with each desperate dodge. "she is fighting well!"

"She will not give up!"

"Level difference or not—this girl has heart!"

Essie's breathing grew uneven. Her movents lost a fraction of sharpness. Just a fraction. But Max felt it. His aura thickened.

He stepped in with deliberate force, his sword shimring with brilliant, layered qi.

"Brooks Sword Arts—Shifting Ridge Break." One strike. Not wide. Not loud. Not intended to show power. It was ant to end the match. Essie crossed her sword in front of her chest, bracing. The impact exploded against her guard. BOOM.

She was thrown back, skidding across the stone, her boots scraping against the stage until they finally halted near the edge. She breathed through clenched teeth, head lowered, arms trembling violently.

Max approached slowly, offering no mockery.

"Essie," he said softly, "you fought beautifully. No one will forget this performance." Essie forced herself upright again, one knee trembling as she lifted her sword. "I… can still—" She coughed, blood touching her lip.

Max shook his head.

His final strike was gentle—nothing harsh, nothing cruel. Just a tap of the blade against her shoulder, guided by condensed qi. Essie collapsed to one knee, her sword falling from her grip. The elder raised his voice.

"Winner—Max Brooks!"

The arena roared—not with laughter, not with ridicule. With respect.

"She pushed him farther than expected." "That determination… incredible." "The Osborn Clan truly raised monsters this year."

Essie bowed her head, accepting her defeat. Max offered her a hand, helping her to her feet before she walked—slow but steady—back toward her clan.

Robert t her halfway. She smiled weakly. "I lost." Robert shook his head. "You showed strength today." Her eyes softened. Then she sat beside her father, who placed a firm hand on her back with quiet pride.

The elder lifted his hand again. The noise faded quickly. "Prepare for the second match." Two nas appeared in the air behind him, glowing faintly: Robert Osborn vs Conner Brown.

Conner stepped out imdiately, spinning his staff in a wide arc, grinning from ear to ear. His confidence surged with the force of his earlier victories.

"Well, well," he chuckled, stopping just a few feet from Robert. "The silent Osborn toy. Still pretending to be a threat?"

Robert did not respond.

He simply walked to his position, eyes lowered, the sword resting at his side.

Conner clicked his tongue. "You know what? I will give you a chance. If you forfeit now, at least you will not lose face in front of all these people."

The crowd stirred, half amused, half uneasy.

Conner stepped closer, voice rising. "Say sothing, Osborn. Or do you plan to hide behind silence again?"

Robert's gaze lifted. Calm. Steady. Cold as dawn.

He didn't speak. Not a single word. The tension in the arena thickened.

Every spectator leaned in. The elder raised his arm. The second match was monts away.

And the air around Robert Osborn felt like a storm waiting to break.