At that moment, the bandits released their martial souls. Most of them were one-ring Soul Masters; only their leader had reached the level of a two-ring Great Soul Master.
Their soul rings glowed pale white and dull yellow — meager light for men who lived by preying on the weak.
In the Douluo Continent, Soul Masters were revered. Those with real power became nobles, warriors, or sect leaders.Only those destined to stagnate at the bottom — Soul Masters or Great Soul Masters who could go no further — turned to banditry.
These six men were such trash.
Qian Ye watched them calmly. He knew his father was watching from the shadows, ensuring his safety.That meant he could unleash himself freely — no hesitation, no restraint.
He whispered, "Wrath Form."
Instantly, a red mist rose from his skin. Blood-colored armor condensed around him, covering his body in a gleaming, segmented carapace. Crimson flames coiled over his limbs.
His six black wings hardened, edges sharpening like blades.
He looked like a dark war god — a fallen emperor bathed in blood.
The bandits froze.
"Wasn't his martial soul the Dark Angel? Why does he look like he's wearing armor now?" one of them muttered, panic rising in his voice.
Qian Ye's eyes opened — and in them burned two scarlet lights. His aura thickened, cold and suffocating, like a tide of blood flooding the air.
He could feel it — the power coursing through every muscle.Speed doubled. Strength doubled. Endurance doubled.A berserker's power, but under perfect control.
He smiled faintly. So this is Wrath — pure, efficient, beautiful in its simplicity.
He slammed his right foot into the ground. The earth cracked.
He vanished.
Bang!
A dull, wet sound rang out. Qian Ye's palm struck the first bandit's chest. Bone shattered, ribs caved in, and the man's body flew backward like a broken doll, crashing lifelessly to the ground.
Before the others could react, Qian Ye was already moving. He blurred to the second bandit's side, sweeping his leg in a red arc.
Crack! Crack!
Both the man's arms snapped under the blow. Qian Ye spun once, and his wing sliced across the bandit's throat.
Blood sprayed across the dirt in a crimson fan. The head rolled away, eyes still wide in disbelief.
Qian Ye didn't even glance at the corpse.
The remaining bandits screamed and released their soul skills, their attacks exploding against the red armor — harmless sparks against iron.
Qian Ye extended his hand. The armor rippled, and a blade of living blood formed in his grasp — a long sword that pulsed like a beating heart.
He rushed them.
To the bandits, it was as if death itself had taken form — swift, silent, and absolute.
Each stroke of his sword drew a line of red through the air. Each strike ended a life.
Their blades clashed uselessly against his armor; their screams were brief and drowned in blood.
When it ended, only the Great Soul Master remained.
He stumbled backward, eyes wide, trembling. "W-Who are you? How can you be so strong?"
Qian Ye met his gaze, expression blank.
"Die."
The blood sword cut cleanly through his neck. The man's body hit the ground before his head did.
Silence.
The red mist faded. The armor dissolved.
Qian Ye stood alone among the corpses, breathing slowly.
He looked down at his hands. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the soil.
"So this is the Wrath Form," he murmured. "Efficient. Brutal. But it burns soul power fast."
He exhaled, steadying himself. There was no guilt — only a quiet understanding. Killing isn't evil. It's simply a test. The world rewards those who act without hesitation.
He wiped the blood from his hands and turned away.
Without a backward glance, he continued down the road toward the Star Dou Great Forest.
He drank when thirsty. Ate when hungry. Slept briefly under trees.And when he awoke, he ran.
He trained as he traveled — every step refining his control, every breath sharpening his resolve.
Two and a half days later, the horizon changed.
The Star Dou Great Forest stretched before him — vast and ancient, its endless canopy piercing the clouds like green spears.
The entrance was cloaked in tangled vines and thick mist, like a living maze guarding the world within.
Qian Ye stepped forward.
A surge of vitality hit him — the air thick with life force. Shafts of light filtered through the leaves, scattering golden motes over the moss. The forest hummed with whispers — the wind, the beasts, the unseen power lurking in every shadow.
He inhaled deeply. So this is where monsters are born. Then this is where I'll be reborn again.
"Little Ye, you did well."
The familiar voice echoed from above.
A tall figure descended — Qian Daoliu.
"Father," Qian Ye greeted.
Qian Daoliu smiled. "From now on, follow me. We'll find a soul beast worthy of your first ring."
Qian Ye nodded and followed his father into the heart of the Star Dou Great Forest.
The shadows closed around them, and the hunt began.