Tang San fell silent. Blue Silver Grass spread silently, covering half the arena in an instant.
At the same time, he leaned forward slightly, his footwork shifting into the opening stance of Ghost Shadow Perplexing Steps.
Against an opponent like Dai Chengfeng, any probing attack could be fatal. He had to go all out—even risk everything.
"Watch yourself."
Tang San's low shout was barely audible before his form blurred, splitting into multiple afterimages that charged Dai Chengfeng from every direction.
Blue Silver Grass surged with him—entangling, piercing, releasing paralyzing toxins—woven into a three-dimensional net.
Dai Chengfeng stood still—until the grass reached him, until Tang San's true fist, coated in Jade Hand's luster and guided by Controlling Crane's subtle force, shot toward his face—
—he moved.
No grand motion. Just a simple lift of his right hand, a fist clenched, and a straight punch.
BOOM!
Fist met fist. Shockwaves exploded outward.
Tang San felt a primordial force crash into him. The Jade Hand's glow flickered violently; Controlling Crane's yielding energy dissolved like mud sinking into the sea—shattered instantly by that pure, overwhelming power.
He grunted, using the momentum to leap back, skidding three steps upon landing—each step cracking the arena floor—as he barely dissipated the force. His arm throbbed numbly.
How terrifyingly strong!
Had his body's strength increased so drastically after martial soul evolution? Tang San's heart raced with dread.
Dai Chengfeng retracted his fist, voice calm: "Good technique. Lacking in power. If this is all you've got, the match ends here."
Tang San's eyes hardened.
He knew ordinary methods were hopeless.
Eight-Spider Lances erupted from his back, purple-black limbs glinting with eerie coldness, venom thick in the air.
His speed surged. Ghost Shadow Perplexing Steps pushed to the limit, Eight-Spider Lances striking with razor-sharp angles—a storm of attacks from all sides.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
A rain of metallic impacts filled the air.
Dai Chengfeng still hadn't activated martial soul possession. With bare hands, he deflected every strike—slapping, poking, blocking, redirecting—each movement precise, intercepting the lances' weakest points at the last possible instant.
The lance tips, sharp enough to pierce steel, left not even a scratch on his skin.
Occasional strikes that grazed him sparked like iron on stone, showering embers.
"External soul bone, impressive," Dai Chengfeng remarked casually, tone calm yet condescending. "Pity your control is still crude."
The more Tang San fought, the more despair crept in.
He'd unleashed everything: Ghost Shadow Perplexing Steps, Purple Extreme Demon Eyes, Jade Hand, Controlling Crane, Mysterious Heaven Internal Energy, Blue Silver Grass control, Eight-Spider Lances…
Even his secret poisons seemed utterly ineffective.
Dai Chengfeng stood like an unmovable rock—unshaken by raging waves.
This unfathomable depth reminded him only of facing his father, Tang Hao.
It can't continue like this!
Resolve flashed in Tang San's eyes.
He knew his final trump card—the last hope—was that one thing.
After another clash, Tang San retreated ten meters, putting distance between them.
He straightened slowly, retracting the Eight-Spider Lances. Blue Silver Grass receded like a tide.
Eyes closed, he took a deep breath—as if adjusting something within.
Dai Chengfeng didn't pursue. He watched quietly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes.
In the VIP box, Bibi Dong's grip tightened unconsciously on her scepter.
Her keen eyes saw it clearly: Tang San's stillness wasn't calm—it was the silence of a gambler betting everything.
She glanced at Dai Chengfeng—still composed—and relaxed slightly. Yet worry stirred.
Just how many secrets does this boy still hide?
Can he handle Tang San's final gamble?
On the field, Tang San opened his eyes.
The violet had vanished, leaving only ice-cold resolve.
He raised his right hand. Between his index and middle fingers appeared a slender needle—half a foot long, pitch-black, yet shimmering with an eerie blue light under the arena lamps.
The moment it appeared, an indescribable aura of coldness, death, and terror flooded the air.
Hu Liena, Ning Rongrong, and Zhu Zhuqing shivered violently—as if targeted by something lethally dangerous, their souls trembling.
Even Dai Mubai, barely watching from afar, felt his heart lurch.
"This is King Yama's Invitation," Tang San's voice was flat, chillingly calm. "When King Yama summons you at the third watch, who dares keep you till dawn?"
"Dai Chengfeng, you're strong—strong enough to force my final hand. None survive this. Are you ready?"
As the words fell, Tang San moved.
Not a swift charge, but an arcane step. His wrist flicked minutely—and the black "King Yama's Invitation" became a near-invisible streak of darkness.
Silent. Faster than sight. Aimed at Dai Chengfeng's brow.
No grand spectacle, no soul power surge—but the air itself froze and corroded along its path, leaving a faint black trail that lingered.
A soul-locking chill enveloped Dai Chengfeng's every vital point.
Just as the crowd braced for catastrophe—perhaps even his death—
Dai Chengfeng smiled.
A smile tinged with nostalgia, yet brimming with arrogance and icy disdain.
Facing the lethal streak, he neither dodged nor flinched. He simply stepped forward—one slow, deliberate pace.
The world changed color.
BOOOOM——!!!
Unrivaled killing intent erupted—a beast slumbering for eons suddenly awakened. From Dai Chengfeng's core, it exploded outward!
This killing aura was thick, viscous, almost tangible—not mere pressure, but a horrifying domain woven from white frost and crimson blood!
From his feet, concepts of coldness, death, slaughter, madness, and despair—condensed into a suffocating will—mixed with blood-mist-like killing intent, engulfing the entire arena and surging toward the stands!
Killing God Domain!
And not just any—this was a Killing God Domain evolved to such heights it neared physical form!
"Aaah—!"
Weaker soul masters in the stands clutched their heads, faces draining of color, minds shattered.
Even Soul Emperors and Soul Saints felt as if plunged into an ice prison—their bodies stiff, soul power sluggish, fear welling uncontrollably.
The "King Yama's Invitation," swift and venomous, slowed visibly upon entering the white-and-crimson domain—as if mired in tar.
Its razor-sharp energy and toxins were devoured by layers of viscous killing intent, hissing corrosively until its light dimmed drastically.
Finally, three feet from Dai Chengfeng's brow, it halted—then snap—crumbled to dust, vanishing without a trace.
King Yama's Invitation… obliterated by pure, domineering killing intent!
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