Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 860

Chapter 860: Serika’s Overwhelming Style
The crimson qi that wrapped her body ignited into a shifting lotus of flame. Fire bloomed across her shoulders, trailed her limbs like petals caught in the wind, spiraling around her wrists and ankles in mesmerizing arcs.

“Form I: Ember Bloom.”

The world paused.

Then Serika moved.

She surged forward in a blink, her body becoming a crimson blur. Her palm sliced the air, fingers flicking toward Quinlan like embers cracking off a raging bonfire.

The first jab came fast. Far too fast. Quinlan barely tilted his chin aside before the strike exploded mid-air, the detonation disrupting his rhythm.

He blocked the second strike with his forearm, but it combusted on contact, blasting his arm wide open.

A third palm smashed into his chest, landing a clean hit. Fire detonated against his ribs, and Quinlan was blown off his feet, flying across the arena before flipping upright.

“Damn!” Quinlan grunted, winded. “You’ve been greatly holding back till now.”

She didn’t reply.

A low heel kick swept in. He stepped back and caught it on his shin, which ignited again. She used the momentum to twist into a backfist, then followed up with a hook punch toward his temple.

Quinlan sidestepped in the last moment before countering with a rising elbow.

Serika twisted out of the way, brushing the attack aside with a forearm and immediately smashed her other fist into his shoulder. The strike landed clean—fire burst across his collar, scorching the fabric and forcing him sideways.

She flowed into a downward elbow, slamming into his back as he staggered. Before he could recover, she stepped in close and launched three rapid punches toward his ribs, each flaring with internal heat, precision-blows meant to shatter breath and rhythm.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

Each one felt like being struck by a furnace hammer.

But instead of splintering him in half, Quinlan’s qi shifted.

A soft pulse, like ripples across a moonlit lake, washed over his body. His skin shimmered as a sheen of pale blue water qi enveloped him, hugging close to the bones, bending with each hit instead of resisting them head-on.

The first punch rippled against him like it hit water.

The second flared, dispersing as it struck a shifting, flowing defense.

The third connected, but it was like punching a tide. His ribs stung, but the blow slid off his rotating stance, softened, redirected.

“Water qi?” Serika muttered, grinning through the sparks. “Slippery little bastard.”

Quinlan staggered back after tanking her punches. But his eyes burned brighter. It was time to show her that she dealing with the Avatar.

He activated his core, igniting fire in his veins and pulling wind into a tight spiral. Flames coiled along his back, and the air shrieked around his limbs.

Then he struck.

A palm wreathed in fire and cyclonic wind, smashing forward like a meteor.

Serika met it head-on.

Palm to palm.

A clash.

Wind howled. Fire screamed. The pressure cracked the tiles under their feet. For a heartbeat, their energies warred, locked in mid-air like clashing titans.

Quinlan’s muscles bulged, trying to overpower her.

But Serika… Serika moved.

She didn’t stop the blow. She twisted her wrist, redirected the force, spun on the ball of her foot, and unraveled his attack like silk between fingers.

Her aura pulsed.

The lotus of fire surrounding her condensed.

The petals folded inward.

Then…

They exploded out in a storm.

“Form II: Scorchwind Vortex.”

Serika flipped back and rotated her body in the air so that her palms touched the ground as her lower body launched skyward, legs spinning into a blur. One foot missed his head by inches, the heat of which alone was enough to singe his brows, and made him flinch.

He staggered.

In that instant, Serika’s palms slammed into the ground, and with a violent twist of her shoulders and core, she launched herself skyward again like a human flare. Her body inverted midair, legs scything around.

The second kick came crashing down on his shoulder, searing and explosive. His guard shattered as he spun away.

But she didn’t let up. Before he could fall, she was already upside down again, balancing on one hand as her legs whirled into a furious cyclone of flaming kicks.

Capoeira. Acrobatics. Destruction.

Every strike carried both elegance and annihilation.

Quinlan tried to block, but it was like trying to parry a tornado with a wooden stick. He stumbled, trying to use the earth to catch his balance, only for her foot to smash into his chest, flipping him across the arena.

He coughed up blood as his ribs groaned in pain. Fire danced along his burned sleeves.

She landed lightly, spinning into another cartwheel and blasting forward, her entire form a blur of heat and motion.

He tried one last time, releasing a sweeping fire-enhanced kick with a surge of wind qi aimed at her hands that were on the ground. But her body twisted around it, bending at impossible angles, spinning low, and…

*CRACK!*

A final up-kick caught his chin. His feet left the ground. The arena spun.

…

From the sidelines, a distant bang echoed. A plume of flame soared into the sky.

Nalai stopped her light sparring motions.

Feng froze. “…That sound…”

Another explosion thundered through the air. Heat warped the horizon.

Feng gasped.

“She’s using her fire.”

Nalai turned toward the teenage girl with a proud, amused look visible on her face.

“I take it this is new to you?”

Feng stared toward the arena with her lips parting. She’d seen Serika fight for weeks. Seen her punch and kick Quinlan across fields, drag him through exercises she herself followed to achieve peak physical form, and scold him like a drill sergeant. But never once had the older Vael sister unleashed her elemental core.

“She’s… she’s beautiful,” Feng whispered. “So that’s the Vermilion Execution Style…”

Nalai nodded, watching the sparks erupt behind the shimmering water veil. “She’s not like me. Serika doesn’t care for governance, politics, titles, mystique, nothing… She’s a single-minded woman who decided to put everything she had into a single basket: becoming as good a combatant as she possibly could. What she lacks in subtlety, she makes up for in dedication. She’s sharpened herself into becoming the perfect cultivator of the flame.”

Feng murmured, “Even with her great amount of muscle… she moves like a lithe acrobat. So flexible… so fast…”

“That’s the mark of her style. To Serika, it’s just Vermilion Execution. She’s not one for flair. But do you know what the citizens of Vulkaris call it behind her back?”

Feng turned toward the queen of water, eyes shining with curiosity.

Nalai’s voice softened with fondness.

“Vermilion Execution: Dance of the Scorching Empress.”

A distant shockwave echoed, then silence overcame the arena.

Feng watched as a limp, unconscious Quinlan hit the far end of the arena with smoke trailing in his trajectory’s wake.

She winced.

“… That looked like it hurt. I hope he’s okay…” she muttered under her breath, worried for Quinlan’s health.

Nalai smiled at the girl and her adorable, obvious crush on the man. “He’ll live, don’t you worry, child. What you just witnessed wasn’t cruelty, it was education. Quinlan has finally been introduced to a Sovereign’s true domain. A painful lesson, yes… but an essential one for the Avatar. ”

Feng’s lips trembled. Despite Nalai’s calm words, her heart refused to settle. That idiot lay there like a broken kite, and she couldn’t stop panicking. Why was her stupid heart fluttering like this?!

“I-I think we need high-tier healing paste! M-multiple jars, even! He looks very hurt!” she stammered, flustered and flailing with worry.

Nalai let out a soft, melodic laugh before waving her hand toward the arena gates. They rumbled open, revealing a well-equipped team of healers rushing in.

She’d ordered them to be on standby throughout Quinlan’s stay, just in case. Of course, her overzealous sister had jumped the gun before the medics even made it through the doors.

Still, Nalai’s gaze remained on Quinlan’s crumpled form, now surrounded by healers.

Rongtai, the Earth Sovereign, was en route. A powerful cultivator of the wind element was also roped into making their way here thanks to Nalai’s strong persuasion skills. Serika had asked her to secure a replacement for the fallen Zephyra so that her student could properly reach the apex, and she wasn’t going to disappoint Serika.

Together with the fiery woman and herself, the Avatar would be forged through hellish combat and heavenly knowledge alike.

This was no longer about teaching.

It was a crucible.

It was time for Quinlan Elysiar to rise.

Not as a mere survivor.

But as a master of elemental warfare.