Nothing he did would change who he was. He was a simple man who would tear his arm from his shoulder to take responsibility for a matter that wasn't his fault to begin with and appease The Entity.

'Wasn't it your seal that failed, allowing him to be birthed? Wasn't it your subordinates that failed to kill a meridian formation expert despite being celestials themselves? What the hell did it have to do with me?'

Oshire's mind spun. The more he watched Dyon, the more infuriated he became.

"Even if it's unfair, there are just some things you have to accept!"

His voice trembled with anger, a deep seeded resentment of countless thousands of years bubbling upward.

"Accept it!" He roared.

Reaching outward with his finger, a beam of light pierced forward toward Dyon's massive figure, slicing through his chest with ease.

The beam cut through Dyon's diamond plated skin as though no protection ever existed. It became clear in an instant that Oshire never meant to kill him, his words alone spoke volumes. He wanted Dyon to accept that his tenacity would never be enough.

"Accept it! Accept it! Accept it!"

Beams of golden light cut through the air, seemingly using Dyon's body as target practice. His shoulders, his knees, his arms and legs, each was punctured one after another.

Blood flew from Dyon's lips as he coughed violently, his lungs filling up with crimson fluid.

Ironically, Dyon's body looked no worse than it had just moments ago. Though the piercing, searing pain was new, his body had already been being torn from the inside out.

He wiped the blood from his lips with a forearm. But, because his arm had already been drenched with blood, he drew a gruesome image. Instead of lessening the blood across his mouth and chin, he actually ended up with more.

A sneer coated his features as he charged forward once more, only to be met by more beams.

Oshire's face twisted. He lifted a second hand, numerous streaks of light now suddenly approaching from two sides. The ferocity of his attacks increased. If before he avoided Dyon's vitals to teach him a lesson, now, he didn't care.

Lasers of golden light tore through Dyon's heart, even taking a chunk of his head away, revealing the brain matter within. The gruesome injuries only seemed to grow more ghastly.

Saint grade holy type qi surged into Dyon's body, but it was simply impossible to keep up with Oshire's attacks. To make matters worse, the improvements in his body had already surpassed the limits of what this grade of holy type qi could quickly heal.

Dyon stood, his body dangling from the skies as though there was an invisible rope hanging from his neck. If it wasn't for his undead body, his lifeforce would have long since been ripped from him.

Still, he laughed. His eyes maintained the same piercing light, unfettered and arrogant without restraint. Even with the state of his body, he seemed to look down upon the world, his singular manifestation looking down on Oshire and the thousand plus Ancestors to his back.

With his wives standing in the dark skies above his True Domain, he couldn't possibly show them anything less than a manly image right?

Tears they had tried to hold back had long since come flooding outward. Their delicate cheeks were flooded with the salty liquid while their small shapely noses turned red. Even while gripping each other's hands tightly, they couldn't seem to find enough comfort.

"Is that all you have, Oshire Sapientia?" Dyon's voice held a disgusting gurgling deep within it. It would only take a sharp individual a moment to realize that this was because his throat had been flooded with his own blood. "If you want to kill me, you'll have to try harder than that."

Oshire's figure trembled with rage. Dyon spoke as though the name Sapientia was a derogatory term, an insult that Oshire should be trying to pay him back for uttering.

"You weren't lucky enough to be born into a clan like mine. I wasn't lucky enough to be born with talent like yours. You have no right, none whatsoever, to stand before me with that expression! You have no right to say those words to me!"

Oshire's eyes reddened, his jaw clenching so tightly that veins burst along his face, dotting his visage with gross splotches of red still spreading beneath his skin.

Dyon didn't even bother to respond, he had already propelled himself forward, activating [One Inch. One Mile] to its greatest upper limit. No matter how hard he tried, even with Little Yin, his spatial qi was sealed, so he had no choice but to rely on himself.

In Oshire's agitation, Dyon entered the closest radius he had since their battle began, his pasted-on sneer never leaving his lips. Dyon had never landed a more satisfying punch in his life.

"[Vanishing Fists]!"

BOOM!

Dyon's hands were already three times the size of Oshire's head. Its impact was akin to a large hammer smashing against a boiled egg. He poured his everything into this attack, activating [Shrink] to its utmost limits. He held nothing back.

Oshire's frail body was blasted downward. Concentrated pulses of air shot out all around him as he tore through the skies and into the green grasslands below.

Though Dyon was completely unaware, the tension burst within Mortal Alliance territory. The sound of cheering resonated through the 21 universes, it was as though Dyon's success had become their own.

Dyon didn't bother to follow through. He knew well that Faith would protect Oshire even if he didn't consciously activate it himself. But this was a blow he needed to land no matter what.

He wasn't superhuman. Even for him, the past weeks had been a test unlike anything he had ever faced before. He needed to remind himself that he was still Dyon Sacharro, that there was no obstacle that stop him, that no matter what challenge he faced, he would overcome it.