Boom!
A violent blast of air exploded across the arena.
Zhao Ze charged at Su Yu like a beast consumed by madness, wielding a full-score blood energy of 10.3 and the terrifying power of the Profound-grade low-tier martial technique, "Crumbling Rock Palm"!
"Die! Just die already!!!"
Zhao Ze roared.
His palms lashed out in rapid succession, white streaks of force tearing through the air with sharp, piercing sonic booms.
He wanted to tear apart the civilian who had humiliated him, using the most brutal and violent means possible—reducing him to nothing but shreds.
Facing this onslaught that came like a raging storm,
Su Yu finally moved.
He didn't counterattack. He didn't unleash any blood energy.
Instead, "clumsily," he stumbled backward.
Whoosh!
One of Zhao Ze's palms grazed past the tip of Su Yu's nose, the violent force of the wind leaving a thin bloody gash across Su Yu's pale face.
A narrow escape!
Su Yu staggered, seemingly losing his balance, and awkwardly pitched to the left.
Bang!
Another one of Zhao Ze's palms slammed hard into the alloy floor where Su Yu had been standing just moments ago.
The hardened special alloy actually bore a palm print an inch deep from that single strike!
Shards of debris scattered.
Su Yu gasped for air, his chest heaving violently, as if each dodge had drained every last ounce of his strength.
He kept retreating, his steps unsteady.
Under Zhao Ze's relentless, airtight assault, he looked like a lone boat adrift in a stormy sea, about to be capsized by the raging waves at any moment.
Completely helpless!
"Dodge? How much longer can you keep dodging!"
Zhao Ze sneered, the bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes growing stronger.
He relished this cat-and-mouse thrill.
He wanted to watch Su Yu slowly exhaust himself in fear and despair, and finally end up begging for mercy at his feet like a dead dog!
Below the arena,
Lin Xiaoxiao gripped the cold alloy railing tightly.
Her pure, beautiful eyes were filled with tears.
Her vision was already blurry.
"Stop... please, stop fighting..."
Lin Xiaoxiao bit her pale lips, her voice trembling.
She really couldn't bear to watch anymore.
Su Yu looked too pitiful right now.
Every dodge was like walking through the gates of hell.
Clearly, he was already at his limit, fading fast. Clearly, he only had to yell "I surrender" to survive.
What was he stubbornly holding out for?!
Was he really willing to throw his life away for the sake of some pathetic pride?!
On the other side of the stands,
Inside the VIP booth,
Zhao Tianxiong raised his freshly replaced cup of hot tea, leaning comfortably into the plush leather sofa.
Watching his son relentlessly corner Su Yu on the arena, trapping him in deadly peril at every turn,
the earlier gloom on Zhao Tianxiong's face had vanished. It was replaced by a triumphant, loud, and delighted laugh.
"Hahaha! Good! Hit him well!"
Zhao Tianxiong slapped his thigh hard.
"Ze'er, don't kill him just yet!"
"Toy with him slowly! Let him know the price of crossing our Zhao family!"
The butler, standing nearby, also let out a long sigh of relief.
Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, he joined in with a fawning laugh.
"You're absolutely right, Master."
"That kid was just putting on a show earlier with some evil trick, bluffing. Now he's showing his true colors."
"He can't even touch a single corner of the young master's clothes. He's a complete waste."
"The spot at Kyoto Martial University is as good as the young master's!"
It was all but settled now.
As far as everyone could see, this one-sided, no-contest massacre was already in its final countdown.
Yet,
No one knew.
At this very moment on the arena, that seemingly battered Su Yu—who looked ready to collapse at any second—
his dim eyes held a chilling calm deep within.
His mind was constantly calculating distances, angles, and... the psychology of a Grandmaster!
Dodging?
Clumsily stumbling?
It was all a carefully fabricated act!
With his terrifying combat power of 1000 points from the Martial Artist realm, Zhao Ze's vaunted attack speed was slower than a crawling snail in Su Yu's eyes!
The reason he wasn't fighting back
was that Su Yu knew his real opponent wasn't this rabid, barking dog before him.
It was the twenty-thousand blood-energy, fully-spiritual-boiling Grandmaster, Lei Potian, who had his pressure locked tightly on the entire arena from the high platform.
Su Yu understood very well.
A Grandmaster's reaction speed was too fast.
The moment even the slightest trace of killing intent leaked from his body, or he made any retaliatory move,
Lei Potian would absolutely tear through space itself in a thousandth of a second and block Zhao Ze's path.
If that happened, Su Yu would lose any chance to kill Zhao Ze—forever.
So.
He had to endure.
To fake.
To create that perfect moment when even a Grandmaster would think "the match is over" and let his guard down.
"Almost..."
While "painfully" dodging Zhao Ze's relentless palm strikes, Su Yu counted down in his mind.
His breathing grew more ragged, his steps more erratic.
Finally,
when he had backed into the corner of the arena, with no room left to retreat,
Su Yu's left foot, in a very "unnatural" manner, tripped over his own right ankle.
His body suddenly lost balance, leaving his entire right side wide open!
An opening!
A deadly, completely vulnerable, huge opening!
"GO DIE!!!"
How could Zhao Ze possibly let such a golden opportunity slip away?
His eyes instantly filled with blood, and he let out a joyful, ferocious roar.
Pouring all of his 10.3 blood energy without reserve into his right palm,
he channeled the "Crumbling Rock Palm" to its ultimate limit, and with a piercing sonic boom, he aimed directly at Su Yu's left shoulder and slammed down hard!
From the high platform,
Grandmaster Lei Potian's expression sharpened.
"It's over."
The Grandmaster made his final judgment in his mind.
He could see clearly that Zhao Ze's palm was aimed at Su Yu's shoulder—not a fatal weak point like the heart or skull.
"The shoulder will shatter. He'll lose his ability to fight back."
"This blow won't kill him."
"I should head down now and declare the result."
Once this judgment formed, Lei Potian's previously tensed, bowstring-taut blood energy of twenty-thousand—which had been primed to explode at any moment—relaxed by just the slightest fraction.
He didn't choose to immediately tear open space to block the blow.
There was no need.
Since it wouldn't be fatal, let this farce end with Su Yu seriously injured and collapsing.
Below the arena,
Lin Xiaoxiao watched as that unavoidable palm came down, tears finally spilling over.
"Su Yu!!!"
She gave a despairing cry and closed her eyes, not daring to witness the bloody, flesh-rending disaster that was about to follow.
Inside the VIP booth,
The smile on Zhao Tianxiong's face bloomed completely.
"It's settled!"
THUD!!!
An extremely muffled, teeth-grinding sound of flesh colliding exploded across the arena!
Zhao Ze's right palm, glowing with a rocky luster, landed solidly—without encountering any resistance at all—right onto Su Yu's left shoulder!
Landing the hit!
A brutally cruel elation instantly flashed across Zhao Ze's face.
He was already mentally preparing himself to hear the crisp, splintering sound of Su Yu's bones, and to feast his eyes on Su Yu's miserable, agonized wails as he fell in a pool of blood.
But.
A thousandth of a second later,
the elation on Zhao Ze's face, as if someone had hit the pause button,
froze completely.
Paralyzed.
Then, it instantly twisted into an expression of extreme, ghostly terror!
Something was wrong!
Something was very, very wrong!
The moment his palm came into contact with Su Yu's shoulder,
He felt like he hadn’t hit a human body of flesh and blood at all!
Hard!
Too hard!!!
It was as if an ordinary man had thrown a full-force punch against a block of solid steel that had been tempered a thousand times.
There was no sound of bones shattering.
No spray of blood.
His proud Yellow-tier low-grade martial technique, the Cracking Rock Palm—the same one that could leave palm prints in alloy floors—
the moment it touched Su Yu’s shoulder, that violent surge of energy vanished like a stone thrown into the ocean, without stirring even the slightest ripple.
Not only that.
A terrifying, supremely dominant counterforce—
scrambling down from Su Yu’s shoulder like a raging tsunami—
violently surged back into Zhao Ze’s arm!
Crack!
The bone in Zhao Ze’s right arm issued a spine-chilling snap.
Directly shattered into countless fine cracks by that rebound force!
“Ah—!”
The excruciating pain twisted Zhao Ze’s features beyond recognition, but in his extreme horror, even his scream got lodged in his throat.
How is this possible?!
Wasn’t his life force completely depleted?!
Wasn’t he a cripple who could barely stand?!
This body… this body, harder than a monster’s—what the hell is going on!!!
Fear, like an icy venomous snake, instantly coiled tightly around Zhao Ze’s heart.
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
world slacker. But a genius female disciple just had to get clingy, insisting that he take her as a disciple. Not only that, she was always making advances on him, thoroughly disrupting his peaceful slacker life...
ive and Ruthless] Before his transmigration, Ye Xuan was playing a game called "Severing Emotions to Attain the Dao." The game's core wasn't about leveling up by fighting monsters, but about conquering various "bad women" with wicked personalities and cold, fickle natures. There was only one method to conquer them: stay unwaveringly by their side, then die at a critical moment, driving them to madness after losing the protagonist. The higher their level of regret, the higher the player's score. To dominate the server, Ye Xuan conquered all the bad women. In the early stages, he showered them with boundless tenderness, only to choose to sacrifice himself for them later, making them weep bitterly and drown in regret. Among them were: Xia Lengyue, the unfaithful immortal wife who chased after powerful men and discarded her husband like trash. Ye Qingcheng, the Demonic Venerable of the Joyous Union Sect, who appeared pure and innocent but was, in reality, promiscuous. Wu Lingxiao, the Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, who lusted after men and loved maintaining a harem. Bai Qiangu of the Endless Demonic Sect: a bloodthirsty mass murderer. However, when the protagonist transmigrated into the game world, he made a horrifying discovery. Eight hundred years had already passed. The bad women he had conquered had now each become deities and revered ancestors. Faced with the endless stream of toxic women coming for him, Ye Xuan could only rely on his god-tier acting skills to carve a path of survival through this world of treacherous women.
