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"Dragon Claw Hand!"
Golden light surged around Lan Minghua's arm, coalescing into shimmering golden dragon scales until his entire limb resembled that of a true dragon.
With just this one claw—devoid of any flashy moves—he met the enormous crimson avatar head-on.
Compared to Tang Hao's mighty Great Sumeru Hammer, Lan Minghua's figure seemed like a mere speck of dust.
Yet, at the moment of collision, Lan Minghua's body erupted in blinding golden light, exuding the imposing aura of a great river surging upstream.
The crimson light of Tang Hao's Killing God Domain melted against the golden radiance as if it had met its natural nemesis.
The corners of Lan Minghua's lips lifted slightly. With a powerful grasp of his Dragon Claw, a crack sounded as he effortlessly pierced into the Great Sumeru Hammer.
Instantly, spiderweb-like fissures spread from the point of impact across the once-smooth surface of the hammer.
"How can this be?! My Great Sumeru Hammer, empowered by a detonated 100,000-year spirit ring, can't suppress him?!"
Tang Hao's eyes bulged as he realized he couldn't push the hammer down even an inch. His heart was seized with utter shock.
He had been certain that not even Qian Daoliu, a Rank 99 Ultimate Douluo, would dare to meet this strike head-on.
Yet Lan Minghua—a complete nobody—had not only blocked it but had turned the tables in an instant.
Sensing the immense pressure radiating from the hammer, Lan Minghua finally decided to get a little serious.
After all, during the battle of Jialing Pass, Tang Hao had detonated a ten-thousand-year ring and still managed to contend with the Rank 98 Golden Crocodile Douluo. Now, having detonated a 100,000-year ring, his strength had likely reached a new peak.
But his opponent was Lan Minghua at his absolute pinnacle—a being capable of slaying a god if necessary.
Lan Minghua tensed his arm, and the cracks in the Great Sumeru Hammer erupted with dazzling golden light.
The massive weapon shattered inch by inch. In the blink of an eye, the towering crimson avatar itself collapsed and disintegrated.
The Clear Sky Hammer in Tang Hao's hand became a ruined wreck, looking as if it would crumble at the slightest touch.
With his martial spirit damaged, Tang Hao suffered a violent backlash.
His body shot backward like a kite with a severed string, puh!—vomiting mouthful after mouthful of blood as he flew.
At that moment, Tang Hao's eyes held nothing but raw, primal fear.
His only thought was—Escape!
But Lan Minghua had no intention of letting him go so easily.
Pinpointing his position, Lan Minghua took a single step through the void, appearing behind Tang Hao as if teleporting.
"You come and go as you please? Did you really think I have no temper?"
His tone was placid, but in Tang Hao's ears, it was the voice of Death itself.
Without giving him a moment to react, Lan Minghua shaped his hand into a blade and, with one swift motion, sliced off Tang Hao's right arm.
Terror filled Tang Hao's eyes as he watched his own arm fall away. Enduring the searing pain, he tried desperately to flee.
Lan Minghua scoffed, grabbed Tang Hao's left leg, and slammed his foot into the top of the thigh.
Rip! The entire leg was brutally torn from its socket.
Using the impact to propel himself forward, Tang Hao fled frantically into the distance, putting everything he had left into his desperate escape. He had no time to worry about Tang San or Xiao Wu. He was like a clay idol crossing a river—barely able to save himself, let alone anyone else.
Lan Minghua glanced in his direction but didn't give chase.
There was no need. Tang Hao was now a cripple.
By losing his right arm and left leg, he had also lost the two high-quality spirit bones granted to him by the Clear Sky Clan. Even if they weren't 100,000-year spirit bones, they were at least 50,000-year grade.
In the original story, removing those two bones had dropped his spirit power by 20 levels. After suffering such devastating injuries now, he would only become weaker. Combined with the damage from detonating the ring, even if Tang Hao survived, he'd be a Soul Saint at best—if he could even reach that level.
He would live, but as a broken man.
For someone like Tang Hao, living on in disgrace was the most fitting punishment. He had only just resolved to end his pathetic existence and start anew, only to be turned into a cripple.
All he could do now was live on… in disgrace.
Lan Minghua descended from the sky, holding Tang Hao's severed arm and leg.
Flender, Zhao Wuji, and the rest of Shrek were utterly stunned.
Especially Flender—he finally understood who the black-robed man was.
Lan Minghua casually tossed the limbs to the ground. He retracted his aura and adopted an air of complete nonchalance, as if the preceding events had nothing to do with him.
"Oh? Why is everyone up? My apologies, I guess I made a bit too much noise," he said sheepishly, looking around.
Flender suppressed his shock and stepped forward respectfully, his head bowed low.
"I was unaware of Your Excellency's presence. Please forgive any offense we may have caused."
Dai Mubai, Ma Hongjun, and the others swallowed hard, their faces pale with terror.
Your Excellency was the formal title used to address a Titled Douluo. They never imagined that this man, who looked like a wandering vagrant, was a figure of such legendary power.
As the reality of the situation sank in, Zhao Wuji and the others quickly bowed their heads, not daring to look him in the eye.
"We greet Your Excellency!" they chorused.
Lan Minghua waved his hand dismissively, a look of distaste on his face. "What's with the 'Excellency'? Just call me Huazai."
That title didn't suit him at all.
Hearing this, Flender finally let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. But when he recalled his actions during the fight, his heart filled with bitter regret. When Tang Hao had attacked, Flender had fled. He was certain Lan Minghua had noticed. He had squandered a golden opportunity to align himself with such power.
Then, an idea struck him. With a somewhat stiff expression, he gathered his courage and asked, "Uh, Huazai... what exactly brought you to Shrek?"
"To take on disciples, of course. Didn't I tell you already? It's boring out there in the world," Lan Minghua replied calmly.
Flender saw his chance and immediately began to pitch his students.
"Huazai, what do you think of Mubai and Hongjun? They're both geniuses on par with Oscar. Perhaps you'd consider taking them as your disciples as well?"
Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun's faces immediately fell, as if they'd just been forced to eat something foul. Not long ago, they had been mocking Oscar, and now they were being offered to his master? That would make them Oscar's junior brothers.
The realization, however, was quickly replaced by eager anticipation. So what if they became junior brothers? The pros far outweighed the cons. With a Titled Douluo as their master, who in the world would dare disrespect them? They were about to kneel and formalize the arrangement.
But Lan Minghua shot them a disgusted look and refused flatly. "Forget them. There is no master-disciple fate between us. They should seek their fortunes elsewhere."
Though phrased politely, the rejection was absolute.
Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun froze, caught awkwardly halfway to kneeling. To kneel or not to kneel—they were paralyzed, their faces burning with humiliation.
They were indeed geniuses, both with system talent ratings over 80. But Lan Minghua had made his criteria clear long ago: intuition came first, character second, and talent third. No matter how talented someone was, if the feeling was wrong or their character was poor, he would not accept them.
Lan Minghua ignored the ashen-faced Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun, knowing they wouldn't dare say a word.
He then pointed to Oscar and Zhu Zhuqing. "You two—pick up that arm and leg. Follow me."
Oscar and Zhu Zhuqing each picked up a limb and trailed after Lan Minghua as he walked away.
Only when his figure had vanished from sight did Ma Hongjun grumble bitterly, "Tch, fine, don't accept us. It's not like anyone wanted to be your disciple anyway!"
Flender's expression changed drastically, and he moved to shield Ma Hongjun.
But a slipper was already flying through the air, moving faster than he could react, and slapped Ma Hongjun squarely across the face.
His entire face contorted. He flew backward into a pile of rubble, spitting out blood and teeth before landing in a heap, completely unconscious.
Then, Lan Minghua's voice drifted back, calm and chilling.
"Tell the little fatty—next time, I'll sew his mouth shut."
(End of Chapter)