Lin Yang also leaped down from his carriage. Light circled under his feet as two yellow soul rings rose up around him.
A two-ring Soul Grandmaster?
The young guard's pupils shrank. How old was this boy, really?
Though Lin Yang carried himself with mature steadiness, he could not hide how young he still was.
To already have two rings at such an age, and with the best possible ring configuration — his talent was terrifying.
Surprise was surprise, but as a thirty-fourth-rank Soul Elder, the guard had no time to dwell on it.
Three rings against two, and with an extra thousand-year ring — the advantage was his.
Light flashed in Lin Yang's eyes. He stamped lightly on the ground.
Blood-red vines surged forth like venomous snakes, twisting as they rushed toward the young guard.
The guard did not panic at the sudden attack.
He raised the bronze shield before him as his first soul ring lit up.
A faint bronze barrier unfolded in an instant, enveloping his entire body.
Hmph.
Lin Yang snorted. The blood-red vines wound around the barrier as if alive.
They tightened violently, exerting a terrifying pressure on the shield of light.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The sickening sound of fracturing echoed out. The guard stared at his flickering barrier in shock.
Though only a ten-year ring, his first soul skill matched his martial soul extremely well, making it no weaker than an average hundred-year skill.
Yet now it couldn't even withstand a single exchange?
He dared not underestimate Lin Yang any longer. With a shout, his second and third rings lit up in quick succession.
"Second Soul Skill, Tremor!"
"Third Soul Skill, Charge!"
Soul power surged into the bronze shield like a bursting dam.
The guard slammed a foot into the ground. Dirt exploded outward in a bowl-sized crater.
His entire body became like a bronze war chariot, shield-forward as he charged straight at Lin Yang.
Lin Yang didn't even glance at him. He closed his hand in midair.
"Bloodthorn Strangle!"
In an instant, the barrier around the guard shattered.
The vines tightened around his body, wrapping him into a cocoon.
His soul skill was cut off. Razor spikes pierced his soul power defense and sunk into his flesh, drinking in fresh blood.
The guard struggled frantically, only to find in despair that the thin vines were tougher than forged steel. The more he fought, the tighter they cinched.
"S–sa—"
He had only enough time to choke out half a cry before the vines suddenly pulled taut.
Puchi!
The gruesome sound of bones shattering and flesh being minced burst out like a water skin exploding.
Hot blood sprayed outward in all directions.
Dead.
A thirty-fourth-rank Soul Elder, slaughtered on the spot within a few breaths, by a two-ring Soul Grandmaster — in such a brutal fashion.
The official road fell into a deathly silence.
The remaining guards turned deathly pale, weapons shaking faintly in their hands.
In the luxurious wagon, that shrill voice went quiet for a beat, then burst into peals of harsh laughter.
"Good, good, good! This humble one's eyes really are sharp. To casually run into such a peerless talent — this humble one likes you more and more."
The laughter cut off abruptly, the voice turning heavier, tinged with patronizing pity.
"I'll give you a chance. Submit to me and take that useless one's place. You will have endless riches and glory."
Lin Yang glanced at the mangled remains of the dead guard, his tone openly mocking.
"Let me guess — you said the same to him, didn't you?"
"Hehe, you and he are not the same," the voice tittered, piercingly sharp.
"He crawled to me of his own will. You, on the other hand, this humble one is sincerely inviting."
"In that case, I'm truly honored," Lin Yang said flatly.
"Unfortunately… I have no interest in being anyone's dog."
The wagon went quiet for a few seconds, before a soft chuckle sounded, tinged with feigned regret.
"You so-called geniuses… always think that a bit of talent lets you ignore the fact that there is always a higher sky, always a stronger man."
"It seems this humble one must teach you a lesson."
"In the absence of absolute strength, you must learn to bow your head — learn to submit."
Boom!
As the words fell, a crushing pressure exploded outward, like an invisible mountain slamming down on everyone's shoulders.
Bang, bang, bang!
The surrounding guards collapsed to their knees, utterly unable to resist. Faces turned chalk-white, devoid of color.
In all the world, the only one still standing… was Lin Yang.
The enormous pressure weighed down on his shoulders, making his bones creak, yet his back remained ramrod straight, his gaze sharp as ever.
"Not bad. You have some skill," the shrill voice finally sounded a little surprised.
"Quit your theatrics."
Lin Yang snorted. Cold light flared in his eyes.
He was far from a Title Douluo. What was there to act so lofty about?
The blood-soaked Bloodflesh Thorns, now an even more lurid crimson, surged up beside Lin Yang like a blood dragon.
They shot straight toward the luxurious carriage at horrifying speed.
Lin Yang wanted to see clearly just what kind of thing was hiding in there and putting on airs.
Boom!
The carriage exploded into splinters, wood flying in all directions.
Through the drifting dust, a figure in a flamboyant pink robe slowly appeared.
If a world-toppling beauty had worn such a robe, it might have been the finishing touch.
But the wearer was a man.
His skin was pale and smooth, his features not unattractive.
Yet his brows were filled with cloying softness and powdery charm, his thin eyes arched upward, and his golden hair half-loose, half-bound.
Tsk… one glance was enough to make one's eyes ache.
At his feet, however, five dazzling soul rings rose at once — two yellow, two purple, one black.
A five-ring Soul King.
And with the best possible ring configuration.
Lin Yang's face grew solemn.
Without a doubt, this androgynous freak was the strongest opponent he'd faced so far.
Even Dean Su Hong was only a Soul Ancestor.
"Aiya, your temper runs hot, little brother. This humble one likes real men like you the most. A brilliant youth such as you… naturally belongs in my tent."
His voice remained piercingly shrill, his words dripping with lewd insinuation.
Coupled with his manner and attire, it was enough to make one's scalp crawl.
Lin Yang's stomach churned. A bitter surge pressed at his throat, his killing intent turning to solid ice.
Before this, he had merely felt disgust.
Now, he felt physically sick.
He swept his arm out. A vast sheet of blood sprayed from his fingertips, blooming into a storm of blood-red thorns that surged toward the man like a tidal wave.
"What an interesting martial soul."
The man — Dai Ziming — didn't dodge. A smirk crept across his lips.
With a faint tiger's roar, a basketball-sized ball of milky-white light condensed before him and shot forward.
"Second Soul Skill, White Tiger Fierce Light Wave."
The instant the Bloodflesh Thorns met the white light, they shattered, splinters of blood-red wood flying everywhere. The resulting shockwave blasted the area into chaos.
It might only be a hundred-year second soul skill, but in the hands of a Soul King, its power was frightening.
The horses panicked, jerking the caged wagons violently. From under the black cloth came sudden, terrified screams.
By chance, one corner of a black cover flipped back. A pair of eyes like burning embers locked onto Lin Yang.
Lin Yang, however, had no attention to spare for the wagons. He stared at his opponent in surprise.
White Tiger Fierce Light Wave — a signature soul skill of the Star Luo imperial line.
That meant this effeminate monstrosity was royalty of the Star Luo Empire?
No wonder his guards were so elite.