This punch was fueled by rage—soul power surging, compressing the air until it crackled with explosive force.
Yet Zhu Zhuqing's violet eyes remained utterly calm.
The instant his fist neared her body, her form dissolved like ink in water—no, not dissolved, but moved so fast that while a residual image lingered, her true body had already ghosted behind Dai Mubai's flank.
Her third soul ring blazed with dark light.
"Nether Shadow Step!"
Dai Mubai's heart sank. That speed…
"Dai Mubai," Zhu Zhuqing's voice rang out again—now from four directions at once, cool and laced with faint disappointment. "Do you only know brute force?"
"Shut up!"
He roared, his fourth soul ring flaring again—White Tiger Meteor Shower charging anew.
If he couldn't tell real from illusion, he'd blanket everything!
Golden orbs coalesced around him, ready to erupt into a storm of fire.
In that split second—
The two "Zhu Zhuqings" on his left and right moved.
The left figure leapt skyward, claws aimed at his crown. The right skimmed the ground, sweeping toward his legs.
Dai Mubai gritted his teeth, forcing the Meteor Shower to redirect—most toward the aerial threat, a few to intercept below.
His instincts screamed: the one above felt sharper—must be her real body!
Golden meteors clashed with black talons. Thunder boomed; soul power scattered.
The airborne figure blurred under the impact—but didn't vanish. Instead, it flipped backward, then dove faster than before.
Meanwhile, the lower figure shredded the sparse meteors effortlessly—its assault undiminished!
"What?!"
Dai Mubai's pupils shrank. Both are real? No—impossible!
Too fast…
Too late.
Claws raked his leg. His Barrier groaned, then shattered.
Agony seared through him. He grunted, movements faltering.
In that instant of hesitation, the aerial figure descended like a hawk on prey—twin claws crossed, slashing down with lethal precision.
"Nether Decapitation!"
Dai Mubai barely raised his arms.
CLANG——!!!
This collision dwarfed all before.
It felt as if a mountain struck his chest. His bones screeched; he rocketed backward, carving twin trenches in the arena floor until slamming into the barrier.
Puh!
Blood burst from his mouth, staining his robe.
White Tiger Vajra Body flickered out. Body Protecting Barrier gone.
Dai Mubai knelt on one knee, arms limp, trembling. His palms split, blood dripping from his fingertips.
He lifted his head, disbelief etched on his face.
Dust settled. Zhu Zhuqing stood calmly ahead.
Her four phantoms had merged. She breathed heavily, face pale—pushing such high-intensity skills, even with Nine-Treasures amplification, drained her deeply.
Yet she stood tall—eyes clear, resolute—a stark contrast to his ruin.
"Why…"
Dai Mubai's voice cracked, lost in confusion. "Your strength… your speed… how…"
He wanted to say "How can you surpass me?"—but the words choked in his throat.
He was Dai Mubai—Xing Luo prince, bearer of the apex beast martial soul White Tiger, a frontline battle soul master!
Zhu Zhuqing was an agile attacker. Her Nether Spirit Cat, though exceptional, excelled in speed and guile—not brute clashes.
Yet here he was—his famed Barrier and Vajra Body crumbling like paper before her amplified claws. His ultimate Meteor Shower shredded by her phantom tactics and impossible speed.
"How can I… lose to you?"
Zhu Zhuqing watched his unraveling, stepping closer. Her voice was ice-calm:
"Dai Mubai, you still don't understand?"
"Your fighting is rigid—straightforward, yes, but brittle."
"And I…" She paused, glancing at Dai Chengfeng watching nearby. A flicker of softness crossed her eyes.
"I know my strengths are speed and finesse. So I pushed them to the extreme. I knew I couldn't match your power—so I never clashed head-on."
"I knew you'd use area attacks. My phantoms weren't just distractions—they made you guess endlessly: where am I? Where's the next strike coming from?"
She locked onto his ashen face, each word a blade:
"The moment you fled Xing Luo—choosing indulgence over duty—you'd already lost."
"You lost more than your fighting spirit. You lost the heart of a true powerhouse—the will to grow, to reflect."
The words carved into his soul.
Dai Mubai froze, body convulsing as if struck by lightning. Mouth agape, voiceless.
Zhu Zhuqing's words echoed in his skull.
What had he done these years?
Drifting through Suotuo City, drowning in wine and women, numbing himself to escape the brutal inheritance struggle—and the imperfect, insufficient self he refused to face.
When had he ever truly sat in silence, listening for the deeper power beneath the White Tiger's roar?
Studied how to make every punch efficient, every defense flawless?
"I… I…"
His pride shattered. Bone-deep shame and regret flooded him.
Zhu Zhuqing turned away, walking—steps unsteady yet unwavering—toward Ning Rongrong and Hu Liena.
She'd won, but not easily.
Dai Mubai's final surge had rattled her; her soul power was nearly spent.
Ning Rongrong rushed to support her, eyes shining with admiration and concern.
Now, Shrek Seven's side was decimated:
Dai Mubai crippled, Oscar and Ma Hongjun swiftly eliminated.
Only one remained.
Tang San—the true soul of Shrek Seven, the team's mind and mightiest fighter.
His face was iron-grim.
Watching his comrades fall, seeing Dai Mubai's spirit nearly broken, facing Dai Chengfeng's unfathomable calm—he'd never felt such pressure.
He stepped forward.
Steady pace. Calm eyes. Though inside, storms raged.
Purple Demon Eyes whirled at maximum. He saw the soul-chilling tiger phantom behind Dai Chengfeng—felt its purity of killing intent, its authority surpassing even apex soul beasts.
But he had Tang Sect secrets. Twin martial souls. The Eight-Spider Lances soul bone.
"Only me left."
Tang San's voice cut through the arena's hush.
Dai Chengfeng nodded. For the first time, seriousness flickered in his eyes.
"Tang San, I know you have more tricks. Show me—what you're truly worth."
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