Save Me

Since childhood, Bing San had suffered from uncontrollable flesh growth due to accidentally consuming Mystic Swine Grass, and he despised any remarks about his physique—even from his own father, whom he would raise hell against if mentioned.

The thinly veiled contempt in Ye Chuan’s words was like lighting a powder keg. Bing San’s bloated body trembled violently, every fold of fat seeming to roar as the overwhelming aura of his Golden Core realm surged forth, freezing the air around him with a glacial pressure that coated the surroundings in frost.

"My Profound Ice Art has reached minor mastery. Today, I’ll test its power on this fool who doesn’t know his place!"

Bing San bellowed, taking a step forward as icy patterns spread beneath his feet.

Seeing his genuine fury, the disciples and elders of the Profound Ice Palace looked at Ye Chuan as if he were already a corpse.

Who didn’t know of this prodigious Holy Son’s talent? Even ordinary Nascent Soul cultivators had been grievously wounded by him. Among the younger generation of the Western Glory Divine Continent, Bing San was hailed as "the strongest below Nascent Soul!"

"Profound Ice Palm!"

With a vicious shout, Bing San thrust both palms forward. In an instant, azure spiritual energy condensed into a colossal palm, its edges coated in inch-thick ice crystals. It swept toward Ye Chuan like a storm capable of freezing mountains, leaving a trail of thick ice in its wake.

Feeling the chilling energy, Ye Chuan willed the dozens of spiritual swords hovering in the air to shoot forward. The moment they clashed with the icy palm, frost encased the blades, and they plummeted to the ground as if severed from control.

"Worthless trash, die for this Holy Son!" Bing San sneered—but the next moment, Ye Chuan vanished from sight.

"Yo." A voice sounded beside him. Before Bing San could turn, a sharp slap landed on his face with a resounding crack, loud enough for everyone present to hear.

"What?!"

Not just the disciples and elders of the Profound Ice Palace, but even Bing San himself clutched his reddened cheek in disbelief.

More shocking than the pain was how Ye Chuan had appeared beside him in an instant.

Unconcerned with his opponent’s thoughts, Ye Chuan unleashed a barrage of dozens of punches into Bing San’s bloated belly, each blow sending ripples through the layers of fat. The final strike blasted Bing San backward like a cannonball.

"Oof!"

"Argh!"

Bing San tumbled and bounced across the icy ground like a ball, while Ye Chuan teleported repeatedly, delivering kicks and punches mid-air as if playing a game.

Within moments, Bing San lay battered on the ground, covered in wounds.

"Ah…"

Everything had happened too fast. The disciples, who had expected a one-sided slaughter, gaped in shock as their Holy Son was beaten like a stray dog.

Just how strong was this demonic cultivator?

He looked so young—no more than a hundred or two hundred years old, right?

A Nascent Soul at a hundred years old?!

"W-what are you all staring at? Attack!" Bing San roared through his bruised face, seeing his sect members frozen in place.

"Strike together!"

No longer holding back, the disciples and elders unleashed their full arsenal of techniques and treasures.

Ye Chuan smirked. "Gravity Field—tenfold."

A dark domain expanded, and the moment the cultivators tried to gather their energy, their expressions twisted in horror as an immense weight crushed them to their knees in the snow.

Bing San fared no better—his rotund frame was even slightly flattened under the pressure.

Unfazed, Ye Chuan remained calm. Though the tenfold gravity field drained his spiritual energy rapidly, it was no issue for him.

From the start, he had only been toying with them.

A minor sect that barely reached the Spirit Transformation stage wasn’t even worth his attention.

He needed opponents at least on the level of Qin Tianya or the Dragonborn.

"Fellow cultivators, how about some tea?" Ye Chuan grinned, pulling out his soul banner, which billowed with dark smoke. "Plenty of room inside—your sect mates are already here. Don’t be shy."

Chains lashed out, piercing the bodies of disciples and elders one by one.

Though their cultivation was merely at the Foundation or Crystal stages—with a few Golden Cores—every bit helped.

They’d make fine fodder to strengthen his soul banner.

The more he devoured, the more powerful it would become.

As the chains dragged at Bing San’s soul, the process slowed—his corpulent spirit was unusually heavy.

"Even slaughtering a New Year’s pig isn’t this troublesome," Ye Chuan muttered irritably.

"Elder Xuan, save me!" Bing San shrieked, sensing death’s approach.

"Young man, you’ve gone too far." A sigh echoed through the void.

In the next instant, an invisible force shattered every chain of the soul banner.

Ye Chuan blinked, then narrowed his eyes as he looked up.

A shadowy figure materialized in the sky—an elderly man in plain robes, gazing down impassively.

When their eyes met, the elder’s wrinkled face twisted into an eerie smile.

"Your talent is remarkable. Had you not strayed onto this wicked path, you might have joined our Holy Land."

"Elder Xuan, Elder Xuan!!" Bing San wailed, snot and tears streaming. "Kill him now!"

Holy Land?

Ye Chuan had heard of them—Qian Duoduo’s Treasure Pavilion thrived under their backing, making them a tier above ordinary sects.

"Tch." Though denied his prey, Ye Chuan showed no fear. "So, you’re strong, huh?"

"You possess a power that devours spiritual energy," Elder Xuan mused, his smile cryptic. "Is that your reliance?"

Exposed, Ye Chuan fell silent for a beat before grinning. "Maybe."

"Then can you devour this?" The elder’s voice turned ghostly.

A searing pain erupted in Ye Chuan’s chest—a deep gash had somehow appeared without warning.

Stunned, he clamped a hand over the gushing wound, healing it swiftly.

But then more cuts materialized across his body. Within breaths, he was drenched in blood, his flesh nearly split apart.

Ye Chuan’s eyes sharpened as he dodged, his form flickering with emerald light.

His keen vision soon caught it—countless translucent threads filled the air.

"Strings?"

"Sharp eyes. A true prodigy." Elder Xuan waved a hand, sending the threads slicing toward Ye Chuan’s neck. "But this ends now."

The strands passed through his throat—and the iceberg behind him was cleanly severed.

"Hm?" The elder’s brow furrowed.

Ye Chuan’s body had turned semi-transparent.

"This..." Elder Xuan pondered.

Yet Ye Chuan wasted no words—activating his Void Shift, he teleported instantly and—

Stab! Right in the kidney!