Harvey Walker was looking for the Osborn pair.
He had not found them yet.
Robert intended to keep it that way until he understood exactly what Harvey Walker was carrying and exactly how the next encounter should go.
Harvey stopped walking. Not because of a sound. Because of a feeling.
He stood between two ancient trunks and let his cultivation sense expand outward.
Spirit Root Realm Level 7 Mid Stage.
Not the wide-field awareness of Soul Manifestation cultivators — he knew the difference. He had trained beside his father since he was old enough to hold a stance, and he understood exactly where his sensing ability currently sat and exactly where it needed to reach.
But twenty years of Zilton Walker's direct guidance from childhood had produced sothing that pure cultivation level did not fully explain.
His sense was sharper than his stage suggested.
It did not miss things at forty ters. Soone was moving parallel to him.
Matching his pace.
On purpose, keeping a distance from Harvey Walker.
Harvey's eyes moved to the right without his head turning.
The deep zone's density gave him no visual clues. Just trees. Just dark. Just the forest being exactly what it always was. But the feeling remained. Soone is there. He stopped completely. The parallel movent stopped with him. Harvey almost smiled. He turned right and walked toward it.
No concealnt. No adjustnt. Just forward movent at full pace with his cultivation energy no longer contained—released outward at its natural output level, the way a person stops holding their breath. Level 7 Mid-Stage.
Unrestrained. The forest registered it imdiately. The ambient sounds around him dropped away—the small beasts within thirty ters going silent in the particular way they went silent when sothing at the top of the local hierarchy announced itself.
Robert stepped out from behind a trunk twelve ters ahead. He did not look surprised. Harvey looked at him for a mont. So this is the Osborn pair. He had seen Robert at the competition ground. Standing at the end of the northern line. Level 6 Mid Stage on the registration docunt.
He looked different in the forest. Not stronger. Just more present. The particular quality of soone who was entirely comfortable in the space they were standing in. Harvey did not find that interesting.
He found it irritating. "I wondered when you would stop running." Robert said nothing. "You have been following for twenty minutes." "Observing," Robert said.
"Different thing." Harvey looked at him flatly. "Where is your partner?" "Close." He is not going to tell where. Harvey shifted his weight forward slightly—not an attack, just the body beginning its preparation sequence without the mind having committed yet.
"The previous clan competition," Harvey said. Robert looked at him. "Celestial Brook City." Harvey's voice stayed level. "You defeated there." Silence. "You rember." It was not a question. Robert said nothing.
"That result has been sitting with for a long ti." Harvey looked at him directly. "Today that changes."
"You ca into a forest competition to settle a clan competition result." "I showed up to win this competition," Harvey said with determination.
"Defeating you is just a little extra." Robert looked at him for a mont. "The rules say no killing." "I know what the rules say." "Then say what you actually an." Harvey's eyes were flat and emotionless. "I will cripple you.
I will take every core you are carrying. And I will leave you breathing because the rules require it. " He paused. "Not because I want to." The forest was very quiet. Robert's eyes were fixed on Harvey Walker, reflecting on the twenty years of personal training from Zilton Walker that had moulded him.
He observed how Harvey held himself, now free from the constraints of the Level 7 Mid Stage, and felt the genuine intent behind each word that had just been uttered. Then he chuckled softly. It was brief. Genuine.
Harvey stood completely still. "Sothing is funny." "You've spent your entire life learning from your father," Robert pointed out. "You entered this forest at Level 7 Mid Stage, having had a month of one-on-one training with the toughest man in your clan." He let that sit for one breath. "And you still need revenge for a loss." Harvey's jaw tightened. "Go increase your strength," Robert said simply.
"When you can challenge without needing to explain why — find then." The temperature of the air between them changed. Not physically. It's all about that specific mont when soone at a certain level of cultivation stops holding back and allows their true potential to shine through without any limits.
The full extent of Harvey Walker's cultivation level has co to light. The ancient trees surrounding them seed to sense it—the bark on the closest ones starting to show that subtle tension that cos from being near intense cultivation energy.
The forest floor's undergrowth had been pressed down, forming a circle that spread out from where he was standing. At Level 7 Mid Stage, everything was at maximum output. It was chaotic. It was fierce. Yet, Robert's expression stayed the sa. He pulled out his sword. Just one sword.
One sword.
He didn't have both hands on the hilt, nor was he in a full combat stance. Instead, he simply held the sword out, his arm relaxed in the way that thirty days of training had taught him. This was just how he carried it when it was in use.
Harvey glanced at the lone sword, then shifted his gaze to Robert's face. "Just one sword?" "Yep, just one sword," Robert replied, nodding in confirmation. Without hesitation, Harvey jumped into action. Iron Collapse Fist—not the polished version he practised on the training ground. This was the real deal.
Full outco. Full commitnt. The particular forward-driving force that had ended encounters in the mid-zone in single exchanges, the power behind it, was the product of everything Harvey Walker had spent a month building into him.
It arrived quickly.
Robert moved faster.
Swift Turn at full outco—the direction change from a fully loaded base, zero telegraphing, his body leaving the impact point before Harvey's fist arrived, and reappearing two ters to the right in the sa motion.
Harvey's strike hit an ancient tree.
The trunk cracked.
It was not split or cracked. It was a sound that the deep zone's density absorbed a bit of, then sent the rest radiating out in every direction. Harvey pulled back and turned around. Robert was already in motion again. Not retreating. Just circling.
Staying at a distance. Maintaining the right angle. Using Swift Turn, not to escape, but to prevent Harvey from getting the straight-line approach that Iron Collapse Fist needs to work at its best.
Harvey charged again. Robert stepped left. The fist passed his right shoulder at a distance he could feel without contact.
He swung the sword in a smooth, controlled arc—it was not the Twin Dragon Fang, just the sword itself. It struck Harvey's outstretched arm at the very mont of maximum extension, where the technique's power had already been unleashed and could not be redirected.
Not a damaging strike. A asuring one. Harvey felt it and pulled back.
He looked at Robert.
He does not fight . He is reading .
"Stop moving," Harvey said.
"No," Robert said, his voice steady.
Harvey's expression shifted—not angrier, which was already at its ceiling, but into sothing sharper and more focused.
He had co into this forest expecting to find the Osborn pair and resolve what the competition ground had left unresolved and cripple Robert Osborn.
He was caught off guard by the sensation of Robert not attacking but only watching his moves. He went on the offensive once more.
And again, Robert moved sideways.
Just one sword. With every exchange, there is only one change in direction. Every move is purposeful; no wasted effort. He does not counterattack beyond that single mont of contact, which reveals sothing new about Harvey's technique each ti it connects.
The action begins with his right foot. A split second before he throws the punch, that foot is already loading up. That is the signal. Robert noted it without hesitation. Harvey retracted his fist for the fourth ti, his breath quickening, eyes fixed on Robert, his face now reflecting a dangerous intensity that went beyond re anger.
Calculation.
He is adjusting.
Robert glanced over at Harvey, who stood a good twelve ters away from him. Harvey Walker still had more to say, and so did Robert. But the forest surrounding them had already said its piece. To the left—thirty ters deep into the zone—Sai's hand signal flickered through the trees. A single tap on the bark. Looks like soone else is approaching.
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