The pressure is gone!" the scarred guard shouted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "He was bluffing! It must have been a one-time treasure!"
Ritesh, seeing the "storm" recede, regained his voice. "What are you waiting for? Break him! I want to hear his bones snap!"
The three Peak Sadhakas rushed forward simultaneously. Their movements were coordinated, a web of steel pipes and focused Prana aimed at Ayaan's vital points.
"Move, you useless brat!" the voice roared in his skull.
Ayaan snapped out of his daze just as a lead-filled pipe whistled past his ear. He ducked instinctively, the wind from the strike ruffling his hair. Another guard swept at his shins, but Ayaan leaped back, his heavy boots skidding on the concrete.
"Damn, I should have cultivated more instead of bickering with Sunidhi!" Ayaan grunted, his chest heaving. Even with his mountain training, the gap in Rank was real. These men had spent years refining their Prana into weapons; Ayaan was still a raw diamond, unpolished and blunt.
"He's nimble! Pin him down and break his legs!" the leader ordered.
Ayaan's eyes flashed. "Oi! Don't hit my legs! Who's going to carry me if they break? Your mother?"
The insult infuriated them. The frequency of their attacks doubled. For a few minutes, it wasn't a fight—it was a dance of survival. Ayaan was a blur of motion, dodging by mere inches. But then, something shifted.
The Golden Leaf from Rudra's tea finally fully dissolved.
Ayaan's heartbeat didn't just speed up; it became a drum of war. A fierce, searing heat erupted in his stomach and raced through his veins like liquid sun. His skin began to emit a faint, rhythmic golden pulse.
Suddenly, a vision from his time on the mountain flickered before his eyes. He saw the Monkey King—the Sage's true form—standing amidst a thousand fallen warriors.
"Listen, kid," the Sage's voice echoed from the past. "You won't always be the strongest in the room. When you are outnumbered, remember this: your body has been forged in the silence of the peaks. You can withstand the strike of a Peak Yoddha. Your Prana is low, but your physical strength? That is my blessing. It is always one level higher than your Rank."
Ayaan's feet planted firmly. He stopped dodging. A playful, dangerous smile spread across his face, hidden partially by his beard.
"Well," Ayaan whispered, the golden light in his veins reaching his eyes. "It seems playtime is over."
Ayaan exploded forward.
"Hah! You think you can—"
The scarred guard didn't even see the movement. Ayaan's fist, backed by the raw physical power of a Yoddha, slammed into the man's jaw. A sickening CRACK echoed across the lawn. The guard's head snapped back, his jaw dislocated instantly, and he crumpled into a heap before he could hit the floor.
"H-huh? Wh—"
The second guard tried to raise his pipe in defense, but it was like trying to stop a falling star with a twig. Ayaan's palm struck the center of the man's chest. The air left the guard's lungs in a violent spray of crimson. He flew backward five feet, sliding across the pavement until he hit the base of the fountain.
The third guard froze. He looked at his two "Peak" comrades lying broken on the ground and then looked at Ayaan, who was glowing like a vengeful deity. The man didn't even try to swing. He dropped his weapon, turned, and ran like a dog with its tail between its legs, disappearing into the crowd of horrified students.
Ayaan didn't chase him. He didn't need to.
He turned his gaze toward Ritesh. The "Prince" of the university was no longer sneering. He was shaking so violently his gold watch rattled against his wrist. A dark, yellow puddle began to form around his expensive shoes.
Ayaan walked toward him, each step heavy, leaving a faint cracked footprint in the concrete. He stopped inches from Ritesh's face, the smell of ozone and sandalwood now overwhelming.
"I didn't hear you clearly earlier," Ayaan said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated in Ritesh's very marrow.
"What was that you said about my sister?"