Blinding white light surged forward, carrying an aura of utter destruction—Dai Mubai's rage-fueled strike, powerful enough to split mountains and shatter stone.
Yet Dai Chengfeng merely raised his right hand—and pressed down, effortlessly.
No soul skill flared. No dazzling light erupted. Just a simple, almost casual push.
BOOOOM—!
The White Tiger Fierce Light Wave struck Dai Chengfeng's palm, detonating in a deafening explosion.
Shockwaves rippled outward; dust and debris filled the air.
Gasps erupted from the stands. The entire audience held their breath, eyes locked on the center of the arena.
As the dust slowly settled, the scene became clear.
Dai Chengfeng still stood exactly where he'd been—not even a single fold of his robe disturbed.
From his palm, a wisp of white smoke curled upward—the sole proof that Dai Mubai's attack had been utterly neutralized.
Dai Mubai himself had staggered back three steps—each one leaving a deep imprint in the specially reinforced arena floor.
His face burned crimson, eyes wide with disbelief.
"No… impossible!"
He'd used seventy percent of his strength in that strike—yet Dai Chengfeng had deflected it with one hand, without even activating a soul skill?
In the VIP box, Bibi Dong's lips curved into a faint smile.
She saw clearly: that "simple" press wasn't simple at all. It was the pinnacle of power control—pure physical mastery and exquisite soul force manipulation, not a soul skill.
"This little one…" she murmured, "has grown again."
On the field, Dai Mubai's shock quickly twisted into deeper fury.
He felt humiliated—his dignity trampled by Dai Chengfeng's dismissive ease.
"Dai Chengfeng! Don't you dare look down on me!"
Dai Mubai roared, his fourth soul ring flaring: White Tiger Meteor Shower!
Countless golden orbs rained from the sky, engulfing dozens of meters around Dai Chengfeng.
An area-of-effect attack—inescapable.
Yet Dai Chengfeng still showed no intention to dodge.
He didn't even glance at the descending meteors. Instead, he turned to Ning Rongrong and the others:
"Rongrong, keep amplifying. Liena, Zhuqing—take the lead. I'll hold the line."
"This battle is your trial ground."
As he spoke, the meteor shower reached his head.
Dai Chengfeng finally moved.
He stepped forward—one foot pressing lightly against the ground.
Huuuuuuum—
A strange resonance pulsed outward from him—an invisible wave expanding in all directions.
The devastating golden orbs, upon touching this ripple, shattered like soap bubbles, dissolving into shimmering motes of light.
Still no soul skill.
Still pure, refined control.
Silence fell over the entire arena.
If the first deflection was coincidence, the second luck—this third display was absolute, crushing dominance.
Dai Mubai's face drained from red to ashen.
He finally understood: the gap between them wasn't just about soul rank. It was fundamental—like a child versus an adult. Not in size or strength, but in understanding and command of the world itself.
"Boss Dai, fall back."
Tang San's voice cut through the tension. He'd broken free from Zhu Zhuqing's pressure and now stood beside Dai Mubai.
Zhu Zhuqing hadn't pursued—her focus remained on Dai Mubai.
Tang San's expression was grim. His Purple Extreme Demon Eyes whirled at full intensity, straining to pierce Dai Chengfeng's defenses.
But all he saw was… bottomless depth.
"Don't act rashly," Tang San whispered to Dai Mubai. "Stick to the plan."
Dai Mubai gritted his teeth and nodded. Pride warred with reason—but reason won.
Across the field, Dai Chengfeng addressed Hu Liena and Zhu Zhuqing: "Liena, Zhuqing—you take the offensive. Rongrong, amplify them fully."
"Don't hold back on soul power. Show me your limits."
Ning Rongrong nodded firmly. The Nine-Treasures Glazed Tile Pagoda blazed:
"Third Treasure: Soul!"
A third wave of amplification crashed over Hu Liena and Zhu Zhuqing, their auras surging.
Hu Liena felt her spiritual power surge to unprecedented levels. Her fox phantom solidified, nine tails swaying behind her—each radiating potent allure.
Zhu Zhuqing felt weightless, her strength surging like tides. Her Nether Spirit Cat martial spirit purred in delight.
"Zhuqing, let's go!"
Hu Liena cried, charging alongside Zhu Zhuqing.
Their coordination was flawless. Hu Liena controlled, weaving a net of charm toward Tang San's trio; Zhu Zhuqing struck—ghostlike, lethal—under its cover.
Tang San remained calm, purple light swirling in his eyes. His Purple Demon Eyes pushed to the limit, barely resisting Hu Liena's charm.
Simultaneously, he swept his hands—countless Blue Silver Grass vines erupted, entangling the attackers while forming layered defenses around his team.
"Blue Silver Prison!"
His fourth soul skill activated, encasing the trio in a massive vine cage.
"Oscar—Flying Mushroom Sausage! Fatty—Phoenix Roar Air Strike, ready!" Tang San barked.
Oscar hastily produced three sausages. After swallowing, translucent wings sprouted on their backs, lifting them skyward.
Ma Hongjun gathered power, his fourth soul ring igniting. Fiery energy coalesced in his mouth, preparing the wide-range Phoenix Roar Air Strike.
But the moment they ascended—Zhu Zhuqing appeared above the cage.
Her speed, amplified by the Nine-Treasures Pagoda, was terrifying.
At the same instant, Hu Liena's fifth soul ring flared!
Invisible spiritual force solidified into pink threads, lashing toward the airborne trio from all directions.
Tang San's face darkened. He knew he couldn't hold back any longer.
"Fatty—release!"
Ma Hongjun's Phoenix Roar Air Strike unleashed—a three-meter-wide pillar of flame roaring toward Hu Liena and Zhu Zhuqing below.
The heat warped the air itself—Ma Hongjun's full-power strike, rivaling a Soul King's might.
Hu Liena and Zhu Zhuqing retreated—but the fire column was too vast, about to engulf them.
Then Dai Chengfeng moved again.
Still no soul skill. Just a raised hand—and a gentle squeeze toward the inferno.
"Disperse."
One word. Calm. Final.
Before the stunned eyes of tens of thousands, the fearsome Phoenix Roar Air Strike vanished—as if snuffed out by an invisible hand. Not even an ember remained.
Ma Hongjun froze. His half-minute buildup of power had vanished like striking cotton—or worse, plunging into the ocean. Not even a ripple.
"How… how is this possible?" he whispered.
Tang San's eyes hardened. No more delays.
"Dai Chengfeng—take this!"
Tang San's voice rang clear. His hands swept across his waist—dozens of cold glints shot forth.
Silent Sleeve Dart. Powder Shooting Shadow.
A storm of Tang Sect hidden weapons rained down, each aimed at Dai Chengfeng's vital points.
Worse, among them flew hair-thin needles, tips gleaming with deadly blue poison.
"Xiao San's finally using hidden weapons!" Yu Xiaogang clenched his fists in the stands.
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