CHAPTER 311: CHAPTER 311 PAPER

The big man was fast—but Riley was faster.

Pak!

The wooden staff snapped forward with merciless precision, striking upward with bone-crushing force.

It smashed into the man’s groin, the sound sickening, like a melon splitting open.

"Ahhhhhh!" The brute’s scream tore through the training grounds, raw and full of agony.

His massive frame folded as he dropped to his knees, clutching at himself in vain.

But Riley didn’t pause—didn’t even blink.

Pak! Pak!

Two swift strikes followed—clean, efficient, and terrifying in their accuracy.

The first blow slammed into his throat, a sharp crack echoing as cartilage gave way.

The big man gagged violently, his eyes bulging as he fought for air.

Spit and blood dribbled down his chin. He clawed at his own neck, desperation etched across his contorted face.

The crowd stood frozen. No one had time to shout or move. Everything happened too fast.

Riley stepped forward, his expression cold, almost serene.

There was no anger, no hesitation—only lethal intent.

He gripped the staff with both hands and brought it down with ruthless force.

Crunch!

The staff crushed through the man’s eye socket, splintering bone before plunging deep into his skull.

The man convulsed once, then went still.

Blood pooled beneath his head, dark and warm against the dirt floor.

A heavy silence fell. The only sound was the faint drip of blood from the staff’s tip.

Around Riley, faces turned pale. Some men staggered back, horror written all over them.

They had expected for Riley to get beaten but that did not happen.

But Riley didn’t care.

He looked down at the lifeless body for a moment, his gaze devoid of emotion, then slowly lifted the staff, flicking away the blood with a sharp twist.

"Done," he said calmly, his voice cutting through the stunned silence like a blade.

His father was just as shocked as the rest of the men—perhaps even more so—but he didn’t let it show.

Not a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. Instead, Alexander straightened his back, a slow smile curving his lips before a booming laugh erupted from his chest.

The sound rolled across the stunned dark halls, breaking the suffocating silence like a crack of thunder.

"You truly take after your old man, Riley," he declared, pride radiating from his deep voice. "Well done, my son!"

The men who stood frozen moments ago shifted uneasily.

Their eyes darted between the mangled corpse on the ground and their clan leader, who looked as if this was a celebration, not a savage execution.

Some lowered their gazes, afraid of what they had just witnessed—and of the boy who had done it so easily.

Alexander walked forward with powerful strides and clapped a heavy hand on Riley’s shoulder.

His grip was firm, almost crushing, but filled with something Riley had long yearned for—acknowledgment.

"Come on," his father said cheerfully, as if inviting him for a family meal rather than walking away from bloodshed.

"Let’s leave this mess behind. We have better things to talk about."

He draped an arm over Riley’s shoulder as they began to walk.

Behind them, the lifeless body still twitched faintly, blood soaking into the earth, but Alexander didn’t glance back once.

To him, this was not a crime—it was a triumph.

"Your mother will be so proud of you, Riley," he continued with a hearty laugh.

"I can’t wait to tell her about what you did today. She’ll be thrilled!" His tone was light, almost casual, as though praising his son for acing an exam or winning a game.

Riley didn’t say a word, but his lips curled into a smile. It wasn’t forced; it wasn’t empty.

It was real—bright, warm, and filled with something he had secretly longed for: his father’s pride.

Every step they took away from the killing ground felt different, almost intoxicating.

The air tasted sweeter. His chest felt lighter.

For years, he had trained, fought, and acted in silence.

Today he finally cemented his status as heir of the clan.

As they walked side by side, Alexander continued talking animatedly, his laughter booming again and again.

Riley listened quietly, his mind replaying those words—You take after your old man.

He didn’t look back at the corpse either. Not once. The big man was already forgotten.

What mattered now was the look on his father’s face and the door that had just opened—a door Riley intended to walk through, no matter how much blood it took to keep it open.

***

Seven years passed.

Riley had transformed from a promising child into a young man whose name carried weight throughout the land.

At eighteen, his physique was a testament to relentless training—broad shoulders, corded muscles, and the calm, dangerous poise of a predator.

His eyes, sharp and steady, reflected a will forged in blood and sweat.

The Rice Clan boasted many skilled warriors, but Riley stood above them all. From sparring grounds to battlefield skirmishes, he had proven himself time and again.

Many called him the clan’s brightest star, the man destined to lead them into an era of strength.

His fame had spread beyond their borders, his name spoken with respect—and fear—in neighboring territories.

Yet, for Riley, none of that was enough.

Titles, fame, and mortal strength—these were trifles compared to what lay beyond.

For years, he had quietly nurtured an ambition that dwarfed any dream of clan leadership.

He knew of the cultivators—beings who soared through skies, shattered mountains, and defied mortality itself.

That was the realm he craved to enter.

But the path to such power was shrouded in mystery, requiring more than determination.

It demanded a chance—a gateway to step into that higher world.

And Riley had waited patiently, preparing, sharpening his body and mind for the day opportunity struck.

This morning, the air felt different. It was a great day for change.

"Mom, I’m heading to the river for a swim," Riley called from the doorway, his tone casual though his heart beat with an unspoken urgency.

His mother, still arranging vegetables in the kitchen, looked up with a gentle smile. "Don’t stay out too long, Riley. Lunch will be ready soon."

"I won’t," he replied, and turned away.

The path to the river was familiar, yet today every sound seemed sharper, every shadow deeper.

The breeze rustled through the tall grass, carrying the scent of wet earth and pine.

Birds scattered as he walked, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf’s howl lingered before fading into silence.

When he reached the riverbank, the sight stilled him.

The water shimmered like polished silver under the midday sun, flowing with a calmness that felt... deceptive.

Riley crouched at the edge, trailing his fingers across the cool surface.

It was as serene as always, yet something beneath whispered to him—a pull, faint but undeniable.

He stripped off his shirt, revealing a body carved by years of discipline, and dove headlong into the water.

The surface broke with a sharp splash, bubbles spiraling around him as the chill embraced his skin.

The riverbed was darker than he remembered, its depths cloaked in shadows.

Schools of fish darted past as he swam further out, lungs steady, movements smooth. Then—he felt it.

A current unlike any other, a swirl of energy brushing against his senses.

It wasn’t the pull of water; it was something deeper, older, alive.

Curiosity flared into hunger.

He kicked downward, following that strange pull, each stroke taking him deeper until sunlight barely reached.

The world above faded, replaced by silence and darkness, and then—he saw it.

Nestled between jagged rocks, half-buried in silt, was an object faintly glowing with a pale blue light. It pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat.

Riley’s chest tightened, not from lack of air but from awe.

This was no ordinary stone—no, this was something else, something that didn’t belong in the realm of mortals.

He reached out, fingers brushing its smooth, cold surface—

The water trembled.

The river around him convulsed as if alive.

A surge of power blasted outward, sending waves rippling to the surface above.

Riley’s vision blurred as energy rushed into him, burning like molten fire through his veins.

His body convulsed, lungs screaming for air, yet he couldn’t let go.

The world around him dimmed until there was only the heartbeat of the artifact—and the roaring chaos inside him.

When his head finally broke the surface, the river was no longer calm.

Waves lashed against the banks, and above, the sky had darkened with swirling clouds.

Lightning flickered in the distance.

Riley dragged himself to the shore, clutching the glowing object to his chest, every muscle trembling from the raw force now coursing through him.

He lay there, gasping, staring at the artifact as its light slowly faded—but the power it awakened within him burned brighter than ever.

For the first time, Riley smiled—not the smile of a clan prodigy, but of a man who had found the door to the path he’d always sought.

The world had just changed. And so had he.