The moment Yunchuan's faux "Blue Silver Grass" skill—cribbed off Tang San—tightened around Dai Mubai, the tiger finally played his last card, unleashing the power of his third soul ring.
Before everyone's eyes, Dai Mubai's form changed yet again. His already burly frame, enhanced by the White Tiger Possession, swelled further; muscles knotted grotesquely, shredding what remained of his upper clothing and exposing an intimidating lattice of cords. Across his skin, dark horizontal stripes emerged, so lifelike that, if not for the lack of fur, he could have passed for a true tiger pelt.
His claws, already formidable, grew thicker and longer, the blades now a gleaming silver. Most striking of all, his entire body was bathed in an intense golden radiance, as though his flesh had been dipped in molten gold. Blood‑red eyes burned with the glint of a predator at the top of the food chain.
Off to the side, Tang San didn't know exactly what the transformation meant, but it was a millennium soul skill from a third ring—its effects had to be exceptional.
"What's he going to do now?" Tang San's gaze flicked toward the white‑robed youth opposite Dai Mubai—only to find the same faint smile on that plain face, those deep, beautiful black eyes holding an opaque glimmer.
Yunchuan moved his fingers subtly, and from around him shot more blue‑black vines, barbed and swift, fanning out to block Dai Mubai's view as they lunged for his limbs and throat.
"Will that work?" Tang San watched intently.
Ten streaks of silver light flashed, and the charging vines froze midair… then burst into useless powder, scattering before they hit home. Dai Mubai's hulking frame advanced step by step, silver claws flexing as they radiated oppressive force.
"Your Blue Silver Grass is impressive—far tougher than I expected. Normally, my soul power couldn't cut it in one blow. But this—this is my third soul skill: White Tiger Vajra Transformation." Pride and arrogance flared on his face. "To get this ring, I risked my life to hunt a millennium Vajra Tiger. It greatly boosts my strength, attack, and defense, and it gave me this ability. For half an hour, my resistances and all offensive and defensive power are doubled. At rank thirty‑seven, with these boosts, your poison won't touch me. Your control is refined, but in the face of absolute strength… you're still not my match. You've already lost."
"Oh? You think victory's certain?"
Yunchuan smiled faintly at the swagger, his voice calm. "Looks like it's time to show a bit more."
He began forming rapid, elaborate hand seals—a complete show for the audience—his soul power flaring just enough to sell it. In less than a breath, a dozen different signs flashed through his fingers, and he barked, "Self‑created soul skill—Blue Silver Avatar!"
From the floor ahead of him sprouted more Blue Silver Grass—only this time, the strands coiled together, merging tighter and tighter until, to Tang San's astonished eyes, they took the shape of a two‑meter‑tall humanoid figure, its "skin" patterned with leaf‑vein markings.
"Blue Silver Grass can… do that?" Tang San muttered, dumbfounded, before shaking his head to himself. It's just for show. The grass is still frail at heart. Pretty on the outside, useless inside.
That assumption shattered moments later.
As soon as the humanoid form solidified, Yunchuan sent it charging at Dai Mubai.
Seeing the strange construct coming for him, Dai Mubai dismissed it as the same bluff Tang San imagined. He swung a claw to rip it apart—
—but the "Wood Man" met the blow, its left fist slamming into the oncoming claw, its right hammering for Dai Mubai's chest.
In his transformed state, Dai Mubai's muscles were like forged steel; the punch slammed home but felt to him like a dull thud against a shield. "Big hit… but pointless," he sneered, shoving the blocked claw away and whipping his left in for a counterstrike.
The Wood Man met that too, parrying in time, though Dai Mubai's next shot landed—a solid hook into its left chest—knocking it back several meters.
"Come again!"
Bellowing, Dai Mubai charged, and the Wood Man, driven by Yunchuan's will and unbothered by pain, surged back to meet him.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Wooden body against flesh and bone, the two traded blows in the middle of the hotel lobby, each impact producing a heavy, booming crack. Dai Mubai's eyes reddened, the room around them forgotten. The lobby devolved into chaos, furniture splintered, tiles cracked; bystanders huddled behind the counter, peeking out at the brawl.
"Third Brother, his wood guy is amazing! Could you make one like that someday?" Xiao Wu's eyes all but sparkled.
"I… don't know." Tang San's voice was distant as he watched the construct actually press Dai Mubai back, their fight a visceral exchange of pure force. Everything about it defied his understanding—how could Blue Silver Grass merge into something so solid? And how could it possibly wield such power, going toe‑to‑toe with an assault‑type Soul Elder without yielding? It ran counter to everything the martial soul was supposed to be.
By now the lobby looked like a demolition site. Floor tiles were rubble, wall facings smashed.
Dai Mubai was in a frenzy, throwing everything he had at the Wood Man, taking whatever openings he could find—and nothing worked.
Of course, the "Blue Silver" was a lie. This construct was a product of Yunchuan's Life Goddess martial soul, made from a type of wood as hard as iron. The grass and hand seals were pure theater; there was no "self‑created" skill, only sleight of hand. This Wood Man was the prototype of a childish fantasy Yunchuan had once had—a "true thousand‑armed Kannon" scaled up to god‑slaying size. Perfected, he imagined summoning a colossal figure miles high, arms beyond counting… gods would be nothing.
Six years on, that remained a dream. This prototype was a pale shadow, but more than enough for a small fry like Dai Mubai.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The stalemate continued—the Wood Man's offense wasn't devastating, but its defense was all but unbreakable. No matter what Dai tried, he couldn't dent it.
And the clock was ticking. The third soul skill's power wasn't limitless. As the thirty minutes ran out, weakness flooded his limbs. His once‑ferocious blows softened; those iron tiger claws might as well have been kitten paws tapping the Wood Man's chest.
The swollen muscles deflated, black stripes faded, the golden glow winked out with an audible pop.
Back to normal.
"It's over…" Dai Mubai breathed, spent.
Now it was the Wood Man's turn.
It grabbed him one‑handed like a rag doll, the other fist driving into his stomach hard enough to make his eyes bulge and mouth gape, a sour flood rising in his throat.
That's for deserting the front.
That's for abandoning your fiancée.
That's for whoring around all year long.
Inwardly, Yunchuan ticked off each offense as the construct laid in another punishing blow. He'd never admit it was pure jealousy.
That's for having twins.
That's for living it up while others…