My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible - Chapter 480 A Misunderstanding?

Chapter 480  A Misunderstanding?

Liam One was genuinely surprised by the precise hostility radiating from the minotaur and the specific accusation in its words.

According to the original Liam’s memories, this creature was a complete stranger—they’d never encountered each other, never fought, never even been in the same region before today.

The confusion settled over him like a weight. The minotaur clearly possessed intelligence, articulate speech, and the capacity for strategic thought. This wasn’t some mindless beast attacking anything that moved. The assault had been deliberate, personal, driven by what sounded like genuine grievance rather than territorial instinct or simple aggression.

Which meant there was a reason behind it. A history. A story.

Liam One wanted to know what that story was.

The creature sounded intelligent enough to answer questions, but it was currently too focused on trying to kill him to engage in productive conversation. That would need to change.

He grabbed the minotaur’s second hand—the one not holding the rapidly disintegrating axe—and squeezed with precisely calibrated force.

The effect was immediate. The creature’s roar of rage transformed into a groan of genuine pain as bones ground against each other under pressure that no amount of muscle or hide could resist.

Its legs buckled, the massive frame collapsing to one knee as its brain processed sensory input it had probably never experienced before—the feeling of being completely outmatched in terms of raw physical strength.

The minotaur’s free hand scrabbled at Liam One’s grip, trying desperately to break the hold, but it was like trying to pry apart stone with bare fingers. The difference in strength was simply too vast.

Liam One maintained his grip, keeping the pressure just below the threshold where bones would actually fracture, and watched the creature’s face as rage gave way to pain, then pain gave way to fear.

Then he heard footsteps approaching with the same seismic tremor quality that had announced the first minotaur’s arrival.

Liam One turned his head toward the sound, his grip on the kneeling creature never wavering, and watched as three more minotaurs burst through the undergrowth.

They were similar in size and build to the first one, each carrying weapons that looked well-used—a massive war hammer, a sword that would have been two-handed for a human but fit comfortably in the minotaur’s single grip, and a spear with a blade the size of a short sword.

And their faces carried the same immediate hostility, the same recognition that suggested they too thought they knew him.

Liam One frowned slightly. One minotaur with a personal vendetta could be explained as mistaken identity or coincidence. Four minotaurs all recognizing him on sight suggested something more systematic.

The newcomers slowed as they took in the scene before them—their companion on one knee, groaning in pain, his axe reduced to twisted scrap metal, and a human who looked completely relaxed despite being outnumbered four to one by creatures each weighing several hundred kilograms, and with the weakest of them being five star.

They looked at Liam One, then at their kneeling companion, then back at Liam One. The war hammer wielder’s grip tightened on his weapon’s shaft, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip.

The one carrying the massive sword stepped forward, his voice carrying a forced calm that suggested he was consciously controlling his initial reaction. “Release Tarok. Now.”

Liam One tilted his head slightly, studying the speaker. The minotaur’s command of human language was actually quite good, better than the first one’s rage-distorted speech, suggesting education or at least significant contact with human civilization.

“No,” Liam One said simply.

The sword wielder’s jaw clenched, his bovine features managing to convey frustration despite their non-human structure. “You don’t understand the situation you’re in, human. Release him and we might let you walk away from this forest alive.”

Liam One smiled at that, the expression containing no warmth whatsoever. “I understand the situation perfectly. Your friend just tried to kill me without provocation, and now you’re threatening me for defending myself. What I don’t understand is why he attacked in the first place.”

He shifted his grip slightly on Tarok’s wrist, making the kneeling minotaur groan, and continued. “I won’t release someone who just made an attempt on my life. I should have killed him immediately—it would have been well within my rights. The only reason he’s still breathing is because I want answers. So either you provide those answers, or I stop being quite so merciful about how I handle uninvited violence.”

The sword wielder’s expression shifted, calculation replacing some of the initial hostility. He could see his companion’s predicament clearly enough, could presumably assess that breaking Liam One’s grip through force wasn’t a viable option given how casually the human had destroyed Tarok’s weapon.

“Tarok mistook you for someone else,” the minotaur said, each word chosen carefully. “A human who wronged our clan. The resemblance must have triggered his reaction.”

Liam One considered this explanation, testing it against what he knew. It was plausible on the surface—mistaken identity happened, and emotional reactions could override rational assessment. But something about the immediate recognition from all four minotaurs, the way they’d each reacted with the same hostile certainty, suggested the resemblance would have to be extremely close for this explanation to hold.

“Then it’s only right that I retaliate by mistake as well,” Liam One said, his smile widening slightly. “After all, it wouldn’t make sense if I don’t respond to attempted murder with at least some proportional consequence, would it?”

The two minotaurs who hadn’t spoken yet both frowned, their postures shifting into aggressive readiness. The one with the war hammer took half a step forward, and when he spoke, his voice carried a cold edge that promised violence. “You shouldn’t dare.”

Liam One’s smile never wavered. He simply squeezed his hand, tightening his grip around Tarok’s thick wrist with precisely controlled force.

The crack of breaking bone echoed through the quiet forest like a gunshot.

Tarok’s scream was immediate and visceral, a sound of pure agony that sent birds fleeing from nearby trees and made the three standing minotaurs flinch. The kneeling creature tried to pull away, desperation overriding pride, but Liam One’s grip was absolute.

The sword wielder’s face contorted with fury, his careful control shattering. “HOW DARE YOU!”

Liam One released Tarok’s now-broken wrist with casual disregard, letting the injured minotaur collapse fully to the ground while cradling his shattered arm. He looked at the three standing creatures with an expression of mild satisfaction.

“Now we’re even,” he said simply. “Your friend tried to kill me based on mistaken identity. I’ve injured him based on that same mistake. Equivalent exchange.”

The three minotaurs looked ready to attack, weapons rising, muscles tensing for the charge that would end with either Liam One’s death or theirs.

The tension in the clearing became almost physical, but at that very moment, Liam One’s aura, which had been maintaining a constant suppressive pressure on the minotaurs since his arrival, suddenly shifted in character. The general weight of his presence remained, but something new layered over it—a sharpness that made the air itself seem to take on an edge.

It was like standing before a blade. Not just near one, but directly in its path, feeling the promise of severance radiating from every aspect of his being. The minotaurs could sense it instinctively, the way prey animals sensed predators—this human had transformed from merely threatening into genuinely dangerous on a level that transcended simple physical power.

Liam One smiled, genuine warmth entering his expression for the first time since the encounter began. “Thank you, Two.”

The words meant nothing to the minotaurs. His clone operating in the cultivation universe had achieved something significant, gained some new capability or insight, and through their shared consciousness, that advancement had propagated to all his bodies simultaneously.

The sword intent that Clone Two had mastered through the immortal inheritance now belonged to Liam One as well.

He reached down and grabbed Tarok by the scruff of his thick neck, lifting the several-hundred-kilogram creature with one hand as easily as someone might lift a house cat. The injured minotaur made a strangled sound of protest but was too focused on his broken wrist to mount any meaningful resistance.

Liam One began walking forward, dragging Tarok along like baggage, moving directly toward the three standing minotaurs with unhurried confidence.

They each took a step backward, then another. The sword wielder’s weapon wavered slightly, uncertainty creeping into his aggressive posture. The war hammer wielder’s knuckles had gone white from gripping his weapon, but his feet continued moving backward rather than charging forward. The spear wielder’s eyes darted between Liam One’s face and the space around him, as though expecting invisible blades to materialize from the air itself.

Because that’s what it felt like to stand near him now. The sword intent radiating from his presence created a sensation of imminent cutting, of edges that existed in concept rather than physical form but felt no less real for their metaphysical nature.

They felt with absolute certainty that if they got too close to this human, they would be sliced apart. Not might be. Would be. The knowledge settled into their instincts like ice water, primal and undeniable.

Liam One continued his advance, backing them up until they hit the massive trunks of two closely grown trees, their retreat path blocked by several tons of ancient wood.

He stopped perhaps two meters away, close enough that they could feel the full weight of his transformed aura but far enough that he wasn’t crowding them into immediate panic.

Then he tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting into something that might have been friendly on someone who wasn’t currently radiating the prssbce of a drawn blade, and smiled. The expression was small, cold, and carried an implicit promise of what would happen if they continued being uncooperative.

“Now then,” Liam One said, his voice perfectly pleasant despite the circumstances. “Are you finally ready to talk? Or should I continue demonstrating why attacking me was an extremely poor decision?”

The three minotaurs stood frozen against the tree trunks, weapons still gripped but lowered, their earlier aggression completely evaporated in the face of something their instincts recognized as a threat several orders of magnitude beyond their ability to handle.

The sword wielder swallowed hard, his throat working visibly, and managed a stiff nod.

“Good,” Liam One said, his smile widening fractionally. “Let’s start with why all of you seem to think you know me. And please, be thorough. I really am quite curious about this apparent resemblance to someone who wronged your clan.”

He shifted his grip on Tarok slightly, making the injured minotaur groan, and added almost conversationally, “And do try to be honest. I have an excellent sense for when people are lying to me, and I’m afraid my patience for continued hostility has worn quite thin.”

The forest around them remained utterly silent, every living creature within earshot having long since decided that being anywhere else was vastly preferable to witnessing whatever was about to unfold in this particular clearing.