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Lan Minghua was slightly startled, not expecting Oscar to make such a decision.
"I thought he would just let Flender go as repayment for his years of nurturing. I never imagined he would make such a choice. It seems… he's grown up."
Flender's face stiffened the moment he heard Oscar's words. Immediately, he erupted in a furious outburst.
"Oscar, you ungrateful white-eyed wolf! Stripping me of my soul power is worse than killing me! You little bastard, I should have crushed you under my heel back then…"
He had grown accustomed to decades of being a Soul Master, high above ordinary people. Now, he was suddenly reduced to a powerless mortal. How could he possibly endure such a crushing fall?
In the face of Flender's curses, Oscar only sighed and shut his eyes in pain.
I'm sorry, Headmaster. I had to do this—otherwise, the consequences would be dire.
As Master's eldest disciple, if I were to let you go without the slightest punishment, what would that mean? Would it not imply that anyone connected to Zhu Zhuqing and the others could betray Master as you did, and still walk away unscathed?
As the senior disciple, I must take a stand.
Oscar was no longer that ignorant youth. Following Lan Minghua, he had grown considerably.
Seeing this, Lan Minghua nodded in satisfaction. "Very well, I'll go along with your decision."
Flender's eyes bulged with rage, and he was about to plead for mercy. But unexpectedly, Lan Minghua gave him no chance. With a light tap of his finger, Flender's entire body shuddered, and in an instant, his soul power vanished.
At that moment, his spirit seemed to wither. His face turned as pale as paper, and his eyes filled with despair and regret.
Although a Soul Saint was not a true powerhouse on the continent, in many remote places, he could still reign supreme. Otherwise, no matter how much wealth one possessed, one could not protect it; it would instead become a hot potato.
Lan Minghua looked coldly at Flender, without a trace of pity in his eyes.
If not for his inability to resist the temptations of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, always wanting to have his cake and eat it too, he would not have ended up in this state. All of it stemmed from his own greed.
Flender could feel the emptiness where his soul power used to be. He was now an ordinary man.
He did not cry or rage. Instead, with great difficulty, he raised his head, his lips trembling as he whispered, "Thank you, Senior, for sparing my life."
Lan Minghua gazed down at him, mocking amusement in his eyes.
Such is the law of the jungle. In a world where the strong devour the weak, without strength, you have no right to speak. I crippled you but did not kill you, and instead of daring to show resentment, you must be grateful.
True to his word, Lan Minghua waved his hand, drawing the millions of gold soul coins from the ruins of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect into his Devouring Pouch before tossing it to Flender.
The pouch hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Flender stared at the mountain of gold soul coins before him, but the familiar gleam of desire was gone from his eyes.
"Get lost," Lan Minghua said indifferently, then waved his hand.
The golden birdcage opened a narrow gap, and an invisible force hurled both Flender and the pouch of gold soul coins outside.
Outside the cage, Flender struggled to his feet. He picked up the pouch and clutched it tightly, for this was his final lifeline. Staggering, he rose—his figure swaying like a fragile sapling.
His gaze swept through the golden glow of the battlefield—over Tang San, over Yu Xiaogang's bisected body on the ground—before finally resting on Oscar.
A complex emotion flashed in Flender's eyes, as if he had a thousand words to say. But in the end, he only managed a bitter smile before turning to leave.
His silhouette stretched long under the setting sun, appearing utterly lonely and desolate.
Revenge? He didn't even dare to think it. Already in his seventies, the fire of youth had long since died. He couldn't even sort out his own life; what right did he have to seek vengeance for others?
Oscar bit his lip as he watched Flender's retreating figure, a sour ache in his heart.
Lan Minghua saw it all but didn't consider it a bad thing. Oscar's choice proved he was not someone who let emotions cloud his judgment.
Zhu Zhuqing and Lan Minghua's other disciples were also startled by Oscar's choice. Zhu Zhuqing, Meng Yiran, and Dugu Yan found it easier to accept, as they had been with Lan Minghua for a long time and understood his temperament.
However, Feng Xiaotian and Shui Bing'er wore graver expressions. They each represented their own academies. If, in the future, their people betrayed Lan Minghua for personal gain, they would have to handle it just as Oscar had handled Flender.
Without rules, there can be no order.
Feng Xiaotian and Shui Bing'er exchanged a glance, understanding the meaning in each other's eyes: they had to keep their own people in line and prevent them from causing trouble.
Their subtle exchange did not escape Lan Minghua's perception.
Oscar, Oscar, you've done me a small favor.
He had been wondering how to restrain the factions behind his disciples. If left unchecked, they would cause endless trouble, and Lan Minghua had no desire to be dragged into their messes. But with Flender as a precedent, those with ulterior motives would now feel a sense of crisis.
Lan Minghua glanced at the members of Shenfeng Academy and Tianshui Academy before turning his gaze back to the battlefield.
The battle raged on, but the scales of victory had already tipped.
Wu Song, a Level 98 Titled Douluo, had also activated his Domain of Martial Pride. At this moment, his strength was no less than that of a Level 99 Limit Douluo. Of course, his power at Level 99 was still a small step below that of Qian Daoliu and Yun Shan. But it was more than enough to handle Qingluan Douluo and Guangling Douluo. Fighting one against two, he was not only holding his own but had the clear upper hand.
Lan Minghua's gaze shifted to Qian Jun Douluo and Jiang Mo Douluo. Although they were Level 96 Titled Douluo, they could not gain an advantage against the martial soul fusion of the Azure Dragon and White Tiger. At best, they fought to a draw. Their battle would not be decided anytime soon.
His eyes swept across the rest of the sky, noting that most fights were locked in a stalemate. Though Tang Xiao was Level 97, he had to protect the injured Tang Hao. Thus, the two brothers couldn't gain an advantage against Zhuque and Xuanwu.
As for Chrysanthemum Douluo, Ghost Douluo, and Yu Yuanzhen, while some of their opponents were Level 93 and 94, their 100,000-year spirit rings compensated for the difference in soul power. Even if they held a slight edge, ending the battle quickly was a pipe dream.
Therefore, the ones who would decide the outcome were never them. The key to victory lay with Qian Daoliu, Yun Shan, and Lan Minghua, who had yet to make a move.
"Angelic Holy Sword—Slash!"
"Wind's Zenith—Annihilation!"
As the words fell, the sky was dyed gold and azure. The two colors warred, each trying to consume the other.
Qian Daoliu's hair and beard stood on end as he slashed downward. In an instant, a radiant golden blade tore a rift in the heavens, descending with unrivaled might. Behind him, an angelic phantom unfurled six wings, channeling a torrent of divine heat into the sword light, transforming it into a river of fire.
Yun Shan's expression was unchanged. As his sleeves billowed, he slowly raised his right arm. A storm of azure gales instantly engulfed the battlefield. Swirling clouds condensed at his fingertip into a pinpoint of light, the hyper-compressed air emitting an ear-splitting shriek.
With a flick of his finger, the azure light shot out soundlessly, colliding head-on with the raging river of flames.
To everyone's astonishment, the terrifying golden torrent collapsed and disintegrated the moment it touched the single streak of azure light!
The azure radiance was unstoppable, surging upstream along the path of the sword light.
Qian Daoliu's pupils contracted. He hurriedly brought the Angelic Holy Sword, formed from his soul power, up to block.
Yet, before that azure brilliance, the soul-forged sword was torn apart as if it were paper.
Qian Daoliu threw himself to the side, but he was a fraction too slow. A gaping, bowl-sized wound exploded on his left shoulder, spraying golden blood.
Watching from afar, Qian Renxue cried out in horror.
"Grandfather!"
(End of Chapter)