"Bang! Bang!"
Two cold, lifeless bodies crashed onto the ground, leaving the gathered crowd in stunned silence. Many among them had already recognized the identities of the deceased.
The two Titled Douluo of the Spirit Hall—Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo!
"Gulp... Gulp..."
The spectators gazed in fear at the slowly descending Chen Xiaoming, unable to comprehend how such a formidable figure had emerged within the continent. To disregard the Spirit Hall entirely and instantly slay two Titled Douluo—who was this man?
Instinctively, they all took several steps back, creating distance between themselves and Chen Xiaoming.
Neither his overwhelming strength nor his blatant offense against the Spirit Hall were things they dared to get involved with.
"Hmm? Let me see..."
Standing before the corpses of Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo, branches sprouted from beneath Chen Xiaoming's feet. In an instant, they plunged wildly into the lifeless bodies. Within mere moments, the corpses were riddled with countless holes, battered and mutilated beyond recognition.
Those already terrified by his earlier actions could only recoil further at this grisly scene.
Among them, Huo Wu, who had once held great admiration for Titled Douluo, felt her stomach churn.
"Disgusting… Are all Titled Douluo this deranged?"
Her gaze instinctively shifted to the other two present: Poison Douluo, obsessed with venomous creatures, and Sword Douluo, devoted to his blade. The deceased Chrysanthemum Douluo had fixated on chrysanthemums, and Ghost Douluo had dealt in ghosts. And now, here was Chen Xiaoming—playing with corpses.
Tsk, tsk. The more she thought about it, the more she realized—none of them seemed normal.
Of course, had Chen Xiaoming or Sword Douluo heard her thoughts, Poison Douluo would likely have sent her straight to the afterlife without hesitation.
"Oh? Finally found them."
After probing for some time, Chen Xiaoming's eyes lit up with delight. Two crystalline soul bones were lifted from the bodies with a flick of his branches.
As high-ranking Titled Douluo of the Spirit Hall, it was expected that they would carry soul bones. Though there were only two, the faint fluctuations of soul power they emitted suggested they had existed for nearly fifty thousand years.
"Not bad. This trip wasn't in vain."
He tucked the two soul bones into his storage—a right arm bone and a left leg bone, neither redundant. As for their exact age, did it even matter to someone like him?
Those who had previously thought Chen Xiaoming was merely desecrating the corpses now looked at him with eyes burning with envy.
Alas, envy was all they could afford. None dared make a move.
"Whoosh!"
A sudden sound cut through the air. The Golden Eagle Soul Douluo, who had been struck away earlier, didn't waste a second. Without uttering a word, he activated his soul skill and attempted to flee.
But Chen Xiaoming merely cast a nonchalant glance in his direction. A surge of soul power emanated from him, instantly freezing the Golden Eagle Soul Douluo in midair, rendering him completely immobile.
"What's the rush? Relax, I'll let you live."
The voice, laced with soul power, resonated in the frozen man's ears. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. Chen Xiaoming's next words made his body stiffen.
"Go back and tell your master—I still need a skull, a torso bone, and a right leg bone. I'll be coming for her soon!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the Golden Eagle Soul Douluo felt the pressure vanish. Without a moment's hesitation—nor a single word of defiance—he fled at full speed.
Even Titled Douluo had been slain. What chance did he, a mere Soul Douluo, have?
Within moments, he had become nothing but a black dot on the horizon.
As for the petty bandits who had previously charged in, Chen Xiaoming had no interest in dealing with them. They were insignificant pawns, unworthy of his attention, and certainly not in possession of any soul bones.
Chaos erupted as the thieves fled in terror, while the academy soul masters refrained from pursuing them.
At this moment, every gaze was fixed on Chen Xiaoming. His words echoed in their minds.
Did he truly understand whom he had just killed? The master of the Golden Eagle Soul Douluo was none other than Bibi Dong—the most powerful figure in the Spirit Hall.
To openly extort the Spirit Hall… Either this man was unimaginably powerful or insanely arrogant.
Yet, as they looked at the two lifeless bodies at his feet, who among them could deny his strength?
"Ah… Young friend, you were too reckless."
A sigh broke the silence as Ning Fengzhi stepped forward, his gaze falling upon the mutilated corpses of Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo.
Renowned powerhouses of the continent, dead in such a miserable state. Even Ning Fengzhi couldn't help but pity them.
Had they simply surrendered their soul bones, they might have survived. Their strength would have been diminished, but at least they would still be alive.
"Sect Master Ning, this is where we differ. You, having led a privileged life, possess wisdom and shrewdness. But your temperament, your Martial Soul—it lacks drive."
Chen Xiaoming smirked as he stored away his spoils.
"For a soul master to truly grow, hesitation is a fatal flaw. Only by pushing forward with unwavering determination can one ascend to greater heights."
"Of course, as an auxiliary-type soul master, it's only natural for you to be more cautious."
Ning Fengzhi listened to Chen Xiaoming's lecture in silence, glancing at his own Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda. His seventy-ninth-rank soul power… the seven-tiered pagoda in his hands…
Unconsciously, his fingers trembled.
In this moment, Ning Fengzhi had an urge—to smash Chen Xiaoming with his pagoda.
Did he not want to increase his soul power? Did he not want to strive for greater heights?
But damn it, his Martial Soul was capped at seven tiers! What was he supposed to do—progress through sheer willpower?
Feeling the aggrieved glare from Ning Fengzhi, Chen Xiaoming remained completely unbothered.
"Oh? Old Jian, you're here too."
In high spirits, he casually patted Sword Douluo Chen Xin on the shoulder. Even the battle-hardened elder flinched slightly at the touch.
"Let's spar again sometime."
Hearing this, Sword Douluo merely chuckled bitterly.
Spar? Last time, he had barely recovered from his injuries. Another round would probably cost him his old bones.
Still, as he looked at the fallen Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo, Sword Douluo's expression grew solemn. His gaze toward Chen Xiaoming deepened in complexity.
He had grown even stronger…
What a terrifying man.
After exchanging brief words with Sword Douluo and the others, Chen Xiaoming ignored the stares of those around him and strolled over to Tang San and the Shrek Seven Devils.
Just moments ago, they had been oppressed. Now, their oppressors lay cold on the ground.
They recalled what Chen Xiaoming had once told them:
"The one with the bigger fist makes the rules."
Indeed, his fist was large enough that not even two Titled Douluo could utter a word before they perished.
Tsk, tsk.
Terrifying.
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