"You can go first, Xiao Chuan."
Chrysanthemum Douluo stood only a dozen meters away, completely relaxed, even motioning with his hand for Yunchuan to take the first move. He looked more like an elegant noble offering polite courtesy than a Titled Douluo entering live combat.
"If I attack first, you won't even get the chance."
Yunchuan didn't take offense.
He knew Chrysanthemum Douluo wasn't mocking him—he was stating a simple fact.
If someone at that level truly went all out from the beginning, even limiting himself to just the first six soul skills, Yunchuan might still be completely overwhelmed in a single wave. This wasn't arrogance.
That was the confidence of absolute strength.
Yes, Yunchuan's physical body had reached a realm far beyond most Soul Saints—he could withstand seven ten-thousand-year rings, something even most Titled Douluos would struggle to handle.
But the power of a soul master wasn't in the body alone.
It was in the soul skills.
Strange, complex, and unpredictable—amplification techniques, weakening fields, trap skills, area control, spiritual pressure, mobility tricks... A soul master's true power was in understanding and using the unique abilities of their Martial Soul to outthink and outmaneuver their opponents.
That's what made them terrifying.
So while Yunchuan might outclass Chrysanthemum Douluo in physical strength alone, that didn't mean he could win. Raw force didn't always translate to victory when soul skills came into play.
"Then forgive me, Elder Yueguan!"
Without delay, Yunchuan accepted the offer. He wasn't arrogant enough to think he could fight a Titled Douluo casually, even with all his talent. He was powerful, yes—but not yet complete.
He hadn't unlocked the true depth of his roots.
And when you're not complete—best not to test gods.
"Wrath of the Flame God!"
With a shout, Yunchuan's hands flashed into a series of rapid seals. His fingers twisted and bent in graceful, arcane patterns, aligning spirit power with the flow of universal law.
Around him, red glow ignited.
Flickering flames appeared midair—first sparks, then lances, then waves. Dozens, hundreds... All coiling upward in a spiral—then condensing behind him.
A towering figure took shape.
A wrathful god of fire—face twisted, fangs bared, its outline sculpted entirely from crimson flame. Its power shifted and writhed like living magma.
This was the form of the "Flame God."
One of Yunchuan's most advanced applications of the fire aspect from his Supreme Clear Sky Hammer's four elemental traits.
And against Chrysanthemum Douluo?
It was the perfect choice.
After all, Yueguan's Martial Soul was the Qirong Tongtian Chrysanthemum—a plant.
And plants… don't like fire.
"Take this—Meteor Flame Rain!"
The fire god behind him howled.
The next second, a ripple of flame spread across the sky—and blazing meteor-like fireballs materialized from thin air, raining down one after the other with apocalyptic force toward Chrysanthemum Douluo!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!!
Each one detonated on impact—unleashing sprays of heat and flame like dragon breath exploding across the field.
Flames scorched the air.
The surrounding field—a barren wasteland by design—lit up into a furnace. If there'd been trees or brushes nearby, they'd have become an inferno in seconds. Good thing they'd chosen wisely.
Yunchuan didn't look at where the fireballs were falling.
He looked up.
Chrysanthemum Douluo floated high in the air—unbothered.
Nine soul rings—two yellow, two purple, five black—circled him slowly. Around his body floated a single massive chrysanthemum blossom, petals spread wide, its golden pollen glinting against the sky.
There wasn't a single burn mark on him.
He had simply dodged it all.
Yunchuan nodded to himself.
He wasn't surprised.
Titled Douluos were monsters.
No matter how strong a move was—it had to land to be effective. His fireballs weren't weak, but against someone like Chrysanthemum Douluo, even a moment's warning could be enough to avoid impact.
"Flame Dragon Roar!"
His mind focused again—order flowing from thought to Martial Soul.
Behind him, the Flame God raised a burning hand.
From the palm: a streaming jet of fire—surging upward.
As the flames left, they quickly twisted—condensing, taking form.
A flame dragon emerged.
Fifteen meters from nose to tail, its body writhed like a serpent in air, its hollow maw glowing, ready to incinerate its target.
It lunged toward Chrysanthemum Douluo.
The Titled Douluo merely turned his body slightly—graceful as a dancer.
The fire dragon missed by inches.
But this wasn't a simple projectile.
As the dragon spiraled past, its thick tail twisted midair…
And lashed at him.
"Nice trick," Chrysanthemum Douluo muttered—but then smiled faintly.
He extended one hand.
A shield constructed entirely from petals blossomed instantly in his palm, firm and luminous.
CRACK!
The dragon tail slammed against it.
Flames hissed—but the shield didn't crack.
It didn't even ripple.
Only black scorch marks remained on the petals.
"Not bad," Yueguan remarked, tilting his head.
"If that hit my real body directly, snuffing out the flame would still take effort. But... if it doesn't hit? What use is it?"
He smiled, then raised a single finger.
The sixth ring at his side glowed faintly.
Dozens of petals around him burst outward, dashed around, and re-formed again into a shimmering tide—a blooming cascade of floral energy soaked through with mist.
"Your turn."
The glow from his hand faded.
But overhead—the petal tide surged forward.
Like a wave.
A wave of dewdrop-slick petals, each shimmering with elemental water aura.
They weren't beautiful. They were deadly.
Below, the flame dragon roared—and opened its jaws.
A cone of flame erupted.
It met the tide midair.
Flame and moisture collided—heat surging, vapor forming, the shockwave breaking apart across the clear morning sky.
(End of Chapter)