The Legendary Mage novel Chapter 128

"Is this lad truly fifteen? He looks at least eighteen."

"What's his background? Could he be the Commander's bastard son, brought along for an education?"

The protégés of the Earthbound Spirits were not only mocking Cobalt Strike but also expressing their dissatisfaction. The Clash of Eight Orders was known as the grandest gathering of the new generation in the Northlands, and there had never been a Protégé below Stage IX or one as old as eighteen. It was a matter of pride, a source of honor for all competitors. But Cobalt Strike bringing this youngster along affected the entire reputation of The Clash of Eight Orders.

Roald and the others frowned, displeased with the Earthbound Spirits' jeers, but this time, no one spoke up, including Adirich. They knew Alavin's temperament; there was no need for them to intervene.

Alavin smiled faintly, shaking his clenched fist. "I propose a wager. Pick someone to withstand my punch. If I win, you apologize for your words. If I lose, I'll shoulder my pack and leave Warriors' Vale immediately."

It was that simple and brutal. If anyone disagreed? It could be settled with a brawl.

Orland and the others laughed. "You want to compare fists with us, the Earthbound Spirits?"

"To win over your pride, that's what will make you accept it wholeheartedly." Alavin shook his arms loose and approached them. "Who will it be?!"

"Are you serious, boy?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Heh, alright then. Since you insist, I'll reluctantly accept." A muscular youth stepped forward, his solid muscles twining around his body like ropes. With his eyes blazing like a tiger’s, he exuded an overwhelming presence. “The Clash of Eight Orders has never had a precedent for participants in Stage VIII. Shall I clean up for Cobalt Strike?”

“Be my guest!” Roald said indifferently.

“Marak! From the Earthbound Spirits.” The youth tensed his entire body, twisting his fists inward, stirring up a fierce aura that even made the wooden doors of the hall tremble slightly.

“Do you mind if I go a bit hard? You... won't mind, right?"

"Ha ha!! Come at me!!"

Alavin warmed up, walking over unhurriedly. Within five steps, his gaze sharpened, and his joints cracked loudly as the Goliath Force surged within him. He tiptoed forward, then burst into action, accelerating in three steps and leaping forward, swinging his fist toward Marak's face.

Orland and the other protégés merely smiled faintly, not even bothering to dodge.

Marak casually raised his arms, crossed them to block, and met Alavin's heavy punch with a cold face, as his aura steamed around his forearms. The kid must have trained some strength-based Combat Magic, right? But so what? To flaunt strength in front of a Protégé of the Earthbound Spirits was to court humiliation.