Andrew pulled his hand back and smiled. "How do you feel?"
Eric stood up slowly, his tone icy. "Inferno Strike, right? You've been training with Dad's technique. No wonder you were completely immune to my Phantom Mirage."
Andrew shrugged, not even trying to hide it. "You're right. It's Inferno Strike. But just so we're clear, Mr. Thornton gave it to me. I didn't sneak around and steal it."
Eric stared at him for a long time, his expression unreadable. "You've already mastered the first stage, Flame Surge, to perfection in such a short time? Andrew, you really are just like Henry said: an absolute freak."
Andrew grinned. "Come on, it's not that hard. I've got hands, haven't I?"
Eric shook his head. "Inferno Strike is pure, blazing energy; it's aggressive and brutal. Even Dad never dared train in it. He respected it but always kept his distance. And yet here you are, charging headfirst and actually mastering it. I'll admit it. I'm no match for you."
It was not easy for Eric to say that, but he finally accepted the fact that he had been dragged out of Goldridge, beaten and outclassed.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Mr. Thornton avoided Inferno Strike? So he never practiced it at all?"
Eric let out a dry laugh. "Of course not. Dad studied everything under the sun, martial arts techniques from every province across Holtrien. But that was exactly the problem. To master Inferno Strike, your heart has to be pure, your will unwavering, and your path singular.
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