Dai Mubai's rage burned hotter at Yunchuan's casual demeanor. Cold laughter spilled from his lips.
"Fine, fine, fine! I want to see just what kind of tricks you think you can pull with a trash martial soul! Trash will always be trash. Trying to prove otherwise is laughable!"
In today's world of soul masters, Blue Silver Grass was universally branded a waste martial soul—its mediocrity beyond dispute. Fundamentally frail, its soul skills, even with the same rings attached, were markedly weaker than others. Take a simple Binding skill: a Blue Silver Grass bind was four to five-tenths weaker and more brittle than that of a martial soul innately suited for entanglement, far easier to break free from.
That was why Blue Silver Grass was universally scorned.
As for Tang San?
His Blue Silver Grass wasn't ordinary—it was an unawakened Blue Silver Emperor. In essence, it was a top-tier martial soul on par with the Clear Sky Hammer, worlds apart from the standard variant. Thus, the skills it unleashed with spirit rings far outstripped those of the common type, creating in Yu Xiaogang the illusion that his "theory" was correct. In truth? Swap in anyone else, and they'd have been trained into uselessness long ago.
"Trash martial soul?"
Yunchuan's brow creased, a sliver of irritation flickering in his chest. He decided it was worth throwing out a few bold lines to put this White Tiger in his place. He said evenly:
"There has never been a useless martial soul—only useless soul masters! Any spirit, with bitter cultivation and the right guidance, can realize its worth. Even a single grain of sand can fill the sea. Even a blade of roadside grass can cut down sun, moon, and stars!"
A grain of sand can fill the sea.
A single blade of grass can cut down the sun, moon, and stars.
The bold, sweeping cadence of the words stunned the surrounding onlookers.
Even if they knew it was dramatic posturing, they couldn't help but feel their blood stir just hearing it. The momentum hit like a crashing wave.
Tang San in particular was wide-eyed—he'd heard his teacher say "There are no useless martial souls, only useless soul masters" countless times, but adding these two lines after it… gave it a grandeur and force that made the original sound tame by comparison.
I'm keeping that, Tang San thought. Next time I debate someone about martial souls, I'll tack those on. That'll shut them down in style.
Dai Mubai found himself repeating the phrases under his breath, feeling their weight and grandeur despite himself.
"Enough talk."
His eyes sharpened. "Since you claim there is no useless martial soul, only useless soul masters—prove it. Show me what's special about your Blue Silver Grass."
Then Dai Mubai moved. In his possessed form, he was like another man—white hair lifting with the surge of power, his explosive frame flashing to Yunchuan in an instant. Ten claws extended from his hands, aiming straight for the other's torso.
But wanting to toy with him, Yunchuan merely smiled, shifted half a step to the side, and easily slipped past the strike. With the gulf in their physical prowess, Dai Mubai's movements were as slow as a crawling turtle in Yunchuan's eyes.
As he flowed past, Yunchuan willed thick, blue-black vines up from the ground in circling waves, rushing in from all four sides. Since he'd claimed Blue Silver Grass as his martial soul, it was only fitting to put on a show.
He himself, however, seemed to melt away into the vines.
Dai Mubai's strange twin pupils flashed as his soul power surged; both hands swung, batting aside the vines coming near. His plan had been to slice them apart—but to his surprise, they were so tough that even with tiger claws fueled by thirty-seven ranks of soul power, his strikes cut only halfway through before the plants pulled back and healed.
A faint, sweet tea-like scent drifted on the air as more and more vines pressed in. Endless, from every direction. Even with his speed and strength boosted by his martial soul, he couldn't break free of their encirclement.
This is Blue Silver Grass?
Dai Mubai was stunned—he'd never imagined it could be this strong.
The most shocked, though, was Tang San—because every move mirrored his own. Of course, that was deliberate; Yunchuan was playing with Dai Mubai, mimicking the techniques from the "original story," and even weakening them sharply so the game could last longer.
If he used his full strength as a Soul Saint, even without martial soul skills, Dai Mubai would be finished instantly. But simple one-hit crushing held no thrill. Drawing it out was far more fun.
Seeing he couldn't break the vines, Dai Mubai's meager patience frayed. He poured white light into his twin pupils, his first soul ring blazing as a white barrier snapped up around him, holding the vines at bay.
His second ring lit next—massive white energy gathered, and with a tiger's roar, a milky beam blasted from his mouth. White Tiger Shield Body and White Tiger Intense Light Wave—unleashed together, their power was considerable.
From outside, it looked like he was being crushed in a cocoon of vines. Xiao Wu, watching, eased slightly… but Tang San's frown deepened.
Sure enough, lances of white light pierced the vine shell, followed by a hollow boom. The Blue Silver Grass around Dai Mubai shattered and flew apart, the shock wave leaving the Rose Hotel's lobby in wreckage.
If Yunchuan's martial soul were truly Blue Silver Grass, the backlash would be severe. But it wasn't—so he stood there, calm and untouched, as the vines reformed around him, their numbers not less but greater.
"Against beast martial souls, weapon martial souls will always have less attack power," Dai Mubai said proudly. "Your Blue Silver Grass is stronger than I expected, but it can't hold me."
"Not necessarily." Yunchuan's smile was faint.
At his words, Dai Mubai's body twitched—sometime while he was talking, thin vines had crept onto his frame, springing into full growth and binding him tight. Inch-long thorns bit in, sending jolts of pain through him… and then came numbness.
Ghost Vine… Parasitism? He can even do this? Tang San's shock deepened.
His own second ring was from a Ghost Vine—the invasive, neurotoxin-laced plant dreaded by soul masters. The parasitism skill it conferred scattered tiny seeds onto an opponent; with enough energy, they grew instantly into binding vines, delivering venom straight into the body. An insidious control skill.
From Dai Mubai's stiffening breath, he was already caught.
"My Blue Silver Grass is poisonous," Yunchuan said mildly. "You've already inhaled some. Using soul power to blast free of my Bind only sped your blood, spread the toxin faster. You don't feel it, but your skin's already numb—that's why you didn't sense the seeds. You've lost."
Dai Mubai's evil eyes flashed dangerously. "A fine Blue Silver Grass. If I had only two rings like you, I'd admit defeat—my body's numb and I can't break free. But I have one more than you. Time for you to see my third ring's skill." He was confident, judging from the vine strength that Yunchuan couldn't be above rank thirty.
He had no idea Yunchuan was simply toying with him, playing out identical skills to Tang San's for the fun of watching him gape in disbelief.
A purple ring flared. The air warped around Dai Mubai; his twin pupils blazed blood‑red. The vines binding him swelled grotesquely—and with a deafening detonation, they and every seed inside him disintegrated to powder.
Dai Mubai's body had undergone a second transformation.
Tang San sucked in a sharp breath. "So this is the skill of a millennium ring…" Given their matched martial soul and abilities, he could easily picture himself in that same bind—and realized that without hidden weapons or tricks, as a soul master, he'd have no answers at all.