Just as the holy-grade weapon above was about to descend and pierce Ethan—
He moved.
There was no flashy technique, no divine light, no mysterious incantation.
Only strength.
Pure, tyrannical, unreasoning strength.
Ethan suddenly exerted force through his waist and spine. His arm muscles swelled violently, veins bulging like coiled dragons beneath jade-golden skin.
Uncle Ghost's pupils shrank.
Before he could react, his feet left the ground.
Ethan lifted him—one-handed.
Then, without pause, Ethan twisted his body and swung his arm in a brutal arc, using the motion of a hammer throw.
Whoosh!
Uncle Ghost was hurled directly toward his own falling holy-grade weapon.
The movement was savage, decisive, and utterly unreasonable.
Uncle Ghost's face filled with shock.
He had not expected it.
Not expected Ethan to erupt with such terrifying physical force.
This was not spiritual energy.
Not divine power.
