Chapter 49 – The Vacuum of the Origin
Before the match began, Lakan had requested a private audience with the Great Spirit Arena's Chief Arbiter.
"The Blue Silver Grass master," Lakan had said, his voice a calm authority. "He carries tools. Hidden mechanisms. Usually, they are banned to maintain the purity of soul power. I want them permitted tonight. Let him use every needle, every dart, and every poison he has labored to create. I want the world to see that a Sovereign does not win because his opponent is restricted, but because his opponent is irrelevant."
The Arbiter, intimidated by the Sky Sovereign's aura, complied. When the announcer declared that "External Weapons are permitted for the Shrek Team," a murmur of shock went through the crowd.
Tang San, standing on the stage, felt a surge of cold confidence. He is arrogant, Tang San thought. He thinks he can block the Tang Sect's hidden weapons with his bare hands. He has just signed his own death warrant.
"Begin!"
The air in the arena shattered.
Dai Mubai roared, his White Tiger martial soul flaring as he lunged toward Zhu Zhuqing. At the same moment, Tang San's hands became a blur of jade-like light—the Ghost Shadow Perplexing Step combined with the Controlling Crane Capturing Dragon.
"Zhuqing, he's yours," Lakan said, his voice undisturbed.
Zhu Zhuqing vanished. She didn't use speed; she used the 30,000-year Shadow Severance. As Dai Mubai swung a massive, clawed fist, he hit only empty air. Zhuqing appeared behind him, her claws flickering like black lightning. She didn't strike his body; she struck his shadow on the arena floor.
"ARGH!" Dai Mubai screamed, a deep gash appearing on his back despite no one touching him. The Void-Stalking Panther's power was absolute—to strike the shadow was to strike the soul.
Tang San ignored his partner's scream, focusing entirely on Lakan. "You asked for this! Rain of the Pear Blossom!"
With a flick of his wrists, Tang San unleashed a cloud of steel. Sixty-four God-Wound Needles, a dozen Sleeve Arrows, and twenty Flying Locust Stones hissed through the air, coated in a paralyzing venom. It was a net of death that covered every possible angle of escape.
Lakan didn't move from his spot. He entered the Eight Directional Flow: Zero-Gait.
His arms began to move in circular, rhythmic arcs. It wasn't the "Controlling Crane" of the Tang Sect; it was the Suntukan: Celestial Deflection. To the audience, it looked like Lakan had grown a dozen arms. His hands moved with a fluidity that mocked the laws of physics, similar to a silver-haired martial god of another world.
Cling! Clang! Tink!
Each needle was met with a microscopic tap of Lakan's fingers. He didn't just block them; he used their own kinetic energy to redirect them. The projectiles didn't hit him; they began to orbit him, caught in a gravitational "Flow" created by his internal soul power.
Tang San's eyes widened. "Impossible! No one can catch the God-Wound Needles!"
"Your toys are loud, Tang San," Lakan said, his voice cutting through the clatter of metal. "But they have no soul. You rely on the mechanism because you do not trust your own fist."
Tang San, panicked, pulled out his most prized weapon: the Silent Crossbow of the God of War. Twang! Sixteen bolts surged toward Lakan's chest.
Lakan's hands moved in a final, sweeping circle. With a sharp clap of his palms, the air around him rippled. All sixty-four needles and sixteen bolts were suddenly gathered into a single, spinning ball of scrap metal between his hands. He dropped the mangled heap to the floor. It was a silent, crushing insult to the "Tang Sect's glory."
The Fist Intent: Vacuum Pulse
"Your turn is over," Lakan said.
He took a single step forward. The ground didn't crack; it vibrated with a low-frequency hum that made the audience's hearts skip a beat. Lakan didn't manifest his Sibat. He didn't even activate a soul ring.
He pulled back his right fist. The air in the entire arena seemed to be sucked toward his knuckles.
"Suntukan: Fist Intent—Vacuum Pulse."
Lakan punched.
He didn't hit Tang San. He punched the air ten meters in front of him.
At that moment, the atmosphere itself became a weapon. A tunnel of absolute vacuum erupted from Lakan's fist. Because there was no air inside the pulse, there was no resistance. The pressure differential created a localized "implosion."
Tang San tried to use his Eight Spider Lances to brace himself, but the Vacuum Pulse didn't hit him like a physical object. It hit him like the weight of the sky falling. The air around Tang San was snatched away, leaving him in a suffocating void for a split second before the external atmospheric pressure rushed back in with the force of a bomb.
BOOM!
The sonic boom shattered every glass window in the arena. Tang San was launched backward like a ragdoll. His Eight Spider Lances—the external spirit bone he took such pride in—snapped like dry twigs under the sheer pressure of the collapsing air. He crashed into the arena wall, embedded five inches deep into the stone, his Blue Silver Grass spirit dissipating into nothingness.
Across the stage, Zhu Zhuqing stood over a kneeling, broken Dai Mubai. She hadn't even broken a sweat. Dai Mubai looked up at her, his eyes full of a pathetic, shattered longing, but she merely turned her back on him, walking toward Lakan.
Lakan stood in the center of the ring, his white robes pristine, his silver mask gleaming. He looked at the Shrek booth, where Yu Xiaogang sat frozen, his notebook falling from his nerveless fingers.
"Hidden weapons. Grandmaster's theories," Lakan said, his voice echoing in the absolute silence of the stadium. "All of it... just a child's fortress made of sand. The next time you call yourselves 'Monsters,' remember this: Even a monster must bow when the Sun enters the room."
Lakan turned to Zhuqing and extended his hand. She took it, and with a shimmer of the Song of the Adarna, they vanished from the stage.
The "Shrek Six" were left in the ruins of their pride. Tang San was unconscious, his legendary spirit bone broken, and the "Grandmaster" was left staring at a blank page, realizing that there was a level of power that no book could ever explain.