Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God

He looked cut a sorry figure. Aside from the disheveled pants that covered his lower regions, his body was completely bare, even of skin in most cases.

He looked like a walking zombie. Patches of peeling skin, pink muscle and dripping blood fell from his body. He was more like a monster than the handsome man he had entered as.

However, if one looked closely, it was possible to see that his skin was slowly coming back together once more, His muscle fibers were wiggling in place, latching onto themselves an growing stronger and fiercer than before.

Soon, he began to look more like the man he had entered as. Tall, powerful, robust, and carrying a smirk that held an uncomfortable amount of arrogance to it.

"Oh, I didn't expect so many people to be here." Dyon stretches one final time as the last of the dead skin fell from his body, revealing a bronze sheen that looked more like a shined metallic surface than the organ it was meant to be.

"BOY!"

Dyon looked up to find a familiar old man looking toward him with a blazing, fiery gaze.

"Old pervert, why are you screaming so loudly? Did you miss me that badly? It's not like I went very far, if you had wanted to see me, you should have just stepped into the world core. I didn't exactly hide."

As Dyon was speaking, the shadows of Patriarch Nightwell and his wife zoomed into view, expressions of incredulity on their faces. It can't be that he had been here the whole time… right?

"Where is Amethyst." Berolt's body stood seething, one could practically see the air surrounding him begin to steam.

Dyon grimaced. "Yikes. Don't you think that you're a bit too old for her? Aren't you embarrassed?"

Before Dyon could react, he found a fist slamming right into his chest.

Blood flew from Dyon's lips, his eyes almost popping from their sockets. He soared through the floating runes of the world core's entrance and smashing into a tall pillar on the open space's opposite side.

The wind was completely knocked out of Dyon. It felt as though his lungs had completely lost the ability to breathe at all.

"… Oof…" Dyon coughed. "… That hurt."

Berolt's furious gaze narrowed. Even in his anger he had held back. However, he was confident that Dyon should have been half dead beneath his strike. At the very least, there should have been a deep cavity in his chest. Yet all he did was cough up a bit of blood?

"Nice hit old pervert. But I still think it was a bit excessive."

At that moment, those from the Vio Clan made it in time to see the interaction between Dyon and Berolt. They could ony be left stunned by the result… An mortal survived the enraged assault of an Immortal on the verge of the Immortal Law Realm? How was this possible?

"You should be thanking me." Dyon stood, dusting himself off. "Not only did I remove a temptation that was impeding your cultivation for you, but I also fixed your world core up. But I guess I should expect this kind of shamelessness from an old pervert like you."

Suddenly, Conan began to laugh.

"Is this what the Nightwell Clan has fallen to? A mere mortal can speak to one of your most respected Ancestors in this way?"

He shook his head as though lamenting a tragedy.

"As the Nightwell Clan's son-in-law, I don't mind taking out the trash for you all."

He crossed the formation with confidence, apparently not noticing the weird gazes of his two parents-in-law.

Dyon, who had been entirely focused on Berolt had actually still never taken his eyes off of him. As for this son-in-law? He couldn't be bothered to care.

"Just die."

Conan casually waved a hand, causing a line of violet qi to be drawn across the open space and toward Dyon's head.

Dyon raised an eyebrow, swatting the back of his palm toward the line of qi.

"Piss off."

The line of qi shattered, the might of Dyon's palm strike shaking the air and flying Conan without pause.

At first, the latter was disdainful, but he very quickly became shocked and then fearful.

"No!"

Conan called out in horror, but it was already too late. The palm shattered his chest into a rain of blood and bone, sending him flying several hundred meters backward. His momentum was only stopped by his pale-faced elder, but his life and death was completely unknown.

Elder Vio stood stunned. It was his task to protect Conan but he really hadn't expected that it would be necessary in that moment. Who would ever think that a mortal could do such a thing to an Immortal genius like Conan?

"That's your son-in-law?" Dyon cringed, his eyes never leaving the old pervert's. "How embarrassing."

The short tempered Patriarch and his wife had just been feeling a little bit of appreciation for Dyon when they heard these words and nearly coughed up blood. Was it even possible for him to go a small moment without pissing them off?

"Where. Is. Amethyst." Berolt growled.

"How do you know that that strike of yours didn't just kill her? Who asked you to be so reckless?"

Berolt couldn't imagine a time where he had been anymore enraged. He also couldn't understand why Dyon continued to anger him despite the fact it was obvious that there was a large disparity between them. Was it simple pride? Or was he really that confident in his ability. Or… Was he relying on the Dark Tower Guild?

The old pervert's sneer deepened. If that was the source of Dyon's confidence, he was in for a rude awakening. That level of naivete was what he expected from a youth, wet behind the ears and drunk with his own power.

"Honestly I have no interest in battling you old man. I've wasted too much energy in the last 30 years. What are the odds you just let me go, hm?"

"Return Amethyst to me."