Chapter 42: Crushing Long Aotian, The Strongest of the Body Sect's Younger Generation!
Du Busi's booming explanation echoed across the arena, the weight of his words slowly pressing down on the chaotic energy swirling around Long Aotian. The violent fluctuations of soul power that had been rolling off the young man began to settle, drawing back into his core. As the Chief Disciple of the Body Sect, groomed through years of grueling, blood-soaked training, Long Aotian possessed a mental fortitude forged in iron. The initial shock of the revelation was quickly suppressed, replaced by the cold, calculating focus of a seasoned warrior.
Across the stage, three pitch-black, ten-thousand-year soul rings hovered around Liu Yuan. The oppressive aura radiating from those rings was suffocating, a heavy weight that threatened to crush the breath from anyone standing nearby. Yet, instead of fear, a fierce, burning heat flared in Long Aotian's chest. The competitive drive carved deep into his marrow ignited into a roaring inferno.
"Junior Brother." Long Aotian's voice was low, rough with barely contained adrenaline. "Congratulations. You have walked a path none of us could have ever imagined."
He locked his gaze onto Liu Yuan. The lingering traces of disbelief in his eyes burned away, leaving behind nothing but pure, unadulterated battle intent. Behind him, four soul rings pulsed with a violent, rhythmic thrum, matching the rapid beating of his heart.
"But as your Senior Brother, stepping down without throwing a single punch would drag the Body Sect's pride through the mud." He lowered his stance, his muscles coiling tight. "Our sparring match begins now!"
Liu Yuan offered a shallow, measured nod. Within his eyes, the dual irises of his Double Pupils shifted and overlapped, casting an eerie, ancient glow. His expression remained a mask of absolute calm, devoid of arrogance or fear. "Senior Brother, please."
High above on the viewing platform, Du Busi observed the shifting atmosphere. A wide, savage grin stretched across the Super Douluo's weathered face. Seeing both youths primed for slaughter, he swept his massive hand downward in a chopping motion. His thunderous voice shattered the silence, rolling across the vast martial arts arena like a physical shockwave. "Begin!"
The final syllable had not even dissipated before the stone tiles beneath Long Aotian's feet cracked into a spiderweb of dust. His figure vanished, leaving behind only a blurred afterimage.
Ever since his previous, crushing defeat, Long Aotian had spent countless sleepless nights dissecting every brutal second of Liu Yuan's combat style. He knew the terrifying reality of his Junior Brother's abilities. Those crimson beams of light—the Laser Eye—possessed a piercing power that defied logic. If he allowed even a sliver of distance to open between them, he would be reduced to a living target, picked apart from afar. His only path to victory lay in closing the gap immediately. He had to drag Liu Yuan into a brutal, suffocating melee, forcing a clash where his higher soul power rank and years of accumulated combat experience could finally tip the scales.
Tearing through the air, Long Aotian held absolutely nothing back. The first and third soul rings beneath his feet flared with blinding intensity, their light overlapping in a chaotic surge of energy.
"First Soul Skill, Demonic Ape Transformation!"
"Third Soul Skill, Darkgold Power!"
Two distinct torrents of light crashed over his rushing form. Long Aotian's physical frame underwent a monstrous expansion. His uniform tore at the seams as his muscles swelled, bulging outward like thick, coiled dragons beneath his skin. In the blink of an eye, his flesh shifted from pale human tones to a deep, oppressive dark gold. A cold, metallic luster gleamed across his body, making him look less like a man and more like a living, breathing statue of divine iron.
Stacking these two massive enhancement-type soul skills pushed his physical strength and defense into a terrifying new echelon. The sheer density of his body warped the air around him. Every heavy footfall he planted on the reinforced arena floor sent a deafening, drum-like thud echoing through the stands, leaving deep, pulverized craters in the solid stone.
Liu Yuan did not move a single inch. His Double Pupils tracked the rapidly approaching streak of dark gold with cold, mechanical precision. Internally, he offered a rare nod of approval. Long Aotian was indeed worthy of his title. Compared to their clash back in Yaluo City, the Chief Disciple's control over his soul power had evolved drastically. The transition between his skills was fluid, devoid of any wasted motion, and the sheer oppressive weight of his charge made the very oxygen in the arena feel thick and viscous.
Yet, acknowledging an opponent's growth did not mean yielding ground. Liu Yuan's stance remained rooted.
A sharp, searing hiss tore through the air.
Deep within the overlapping irises of his Double Pupils, a terrifying crimson light gathered. Two concentrated beams of blood-red energy erupted forward, cutting through the viscous air with lethal accuracy, aiming directly for the dead center of Long Aotian's broad chest.
Long Aotian had anticipated this exact counter. Without breaking his forward momentum, he violently crossed his thick, metallic arms over his chest, using his reinforced flesh as a living shield.
The crimson beams slammed into his forearms. A blinding shower of dense, fiery sparks exploded outward, accompanied by the screech of grinding metal. The sheer kinetic force of the blast stalled Long Aotian's charge for a fraction of a second, his boots skidding against the stone. But with a feral roar, he pushed through the burning pain, relying entirely on the monstrous durability of his enhanced body to close the final few meters.
"Caught you!" Long Aotian roared, his voice rough and triumphant. He uncoiled his right arm, driving a massive, dark gold fist straight toward Liu Yuan's face. The punch tore through the sound barrier, dragging a piercing sonic boom in its wake as it threatened to cave in the younger boy's skull.
Liu Yuan's expression did not shift. His eyes remained as cold and unfeeling as glacial ice. Facing a devastating strike that could easily cripple an ordinary Soul King, he completely ignored the instinct to dodge. Instead, the pitch-black third soul ring floating around him flared to life.
"Qilin Precious Technique."
A brilliant, ice-blue radiance erupted from his core, washing over his skin like liquid sapphire. In that fleeting instant, the fundamental density and explosive power of Liu Yuan's physical body underwent a monstrous, qualitative leap. The ancient, tyrannical aura of a divine beast bled into the air.
Rather than blocking, Liu Yuan mirrored his opponent. He pulled his fist back and threw a punch of his own, meeting the incoming attack in the most primitive, violently overbearing manner possible.
Boom!
The collision of flesh and bone sounded like a cannon firing inside a closed vault. One massive, dark gold fist and one glowing, ice-blue fist ground against each other in mid-air, the sheer force of their impact creating a visible shockwave that ripped the surrounding floor tiles from their foundations. For a split second, they were locked in an absolute stalemate.
Then, Liu Yuan shifted his weight, smoothly shifting into the combat style that maximized his unique advantages. It was a method of fighting that was entirely devoid of self-preservation: trading blood for blood.
Long Aotian's mastery of close-quarters combat was exquisite. Realizing his punch was halted, he instantly pivoted his hips. His right leg lashed out, tearing through the air like a dark gold steel whip, aiming a devastating roundhouse kick directly at Liu Yuan's exposed waist.
Liu Yuan did not even attempt to evade. He leaned into the danger, using the momentary shift in Long Aotian's balance to step inside his guard. He slightly dropped his stance, allowing the brutal kick to smash directly into his side. Simultaneously, he pressed his index and middle fingers together, forming a rigid sword hand. Highly compressed, razor-sharp soul power gathered at his fingertips as he thrust his hand forward, driving it mercilessly toward Long Aotian's abdomen.
Bang!
The impact of the kick was sickening. Flesh tore and blood sprayed from Liu Yuan's waist, accompanied by the sharp, distinct crack of fracturing ribs. The sheer force threatened to fold him in half.
Crack!
But Liu Yuan's counterattack landed in the exact same fraction of a second. The supposedly impenetrable darkgold skin protecting Long Aotian's stomach shattered like cheap glass. Liu Yuan's rigid fingers buried themselves deep into the muscle, gouging out a bloody, gaping hole in the older boy's abdomen.
Long Aotian's face twisted in horror. The pain was blinding, but the true terror stemmed from his knowledge of Liu Yuan's monstrous physique. He knew all too well that his Junior Brother possessed a recovery factor that defied the laws of nature.
His fears were validated instantly. A rich, emerald green light flared from Liu Yuan's core, bathing his broken side in a warm glow. Before Long Aotian's very eyes, the shattered ribs snapped back into place, the torn muscle fibers knitted together, and the bloody mess of flesh sealed itself shut. In mere seconds, the devastating injury was erased, leaving behind unblemished skin.
Worse still, the process of healing did not slow Liu Yuan's assault for even a microsecond. His offensive momentum remained a relentless, suffocating tide. At point-blank range, the dual irises of his Double Pupils spun wildly. Thin, highly concentrated micro-beams of crimson light fired in rapid succession, carving smoking, bloody scorch marks across Long Aotian's chest, shoulders, and arms.
'This cannot go on...' A cold, creeping sense of powerlessness began to take root in Long Aotian's chest.
He had charged into this melee believing that close-quarters combat was his absolute domain, the one arena where his seniority and physical enhancements guaranteed dominance. But reality was a cruel teacher. Liu Yuan's explosive power at zero distance was every bit the equal of his own, and when paired with that perverse, instantaneous self-healing, the dynamic of the fight was completely broken.
The math of their exchange was horrifyingly skewed. If Long Aotian landed ten bone-shattering blows, Liu Yuan would simply regenerate the damage in a breath. But if Liu Yuan landed even a single strike, Long Aotian was forced to burn massive reserves of soul power just to keep his defensive skills active and prevent his organs from being ruptured. This was no longer a martial arts spar. It was a chronic, suicidal war of attrition, and Long Aotian was bleeding out on the wrong side of the equation.
He knew with absolute certainty that if he allowed this grinding exchange to continue, he would simply be bled dry and exhausted to death on the stone tiles. He had to end this immediately. He had to gamble everything on a single, decisive strike.
Gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his abdomen, Long Aotian pushed off his back foot, retreating violently. He carved a ten-meter gap between them, his chest heaving. The deep purple fourth soul ring hovering at his feet suddenly flared, erupting with a blinding, ominous light that darkened the surrounding air.
"Fourth Soul Skill, Mad God Slash!"
Every last drop of Long Aotian's soul power surged upward, flooding into his heavily muscled arms like a raging tidal wave. The sheer density of the gathered energy caused the atmosphere itself to vibrate, emitting a low, thrumming hum. Between his open palms, a massive, illusory battleaxe materialized, forged entirely from highly compressed, dark gold energy. His eyes were bloodshot, burning with the reckless, desperate determination of a cornered beast. With a guttural roar, he swung the giant axe downward, cleaving the air as he aimed a ruthless executioner's strike at Liu Yuan.
This was the absolute pinnacle of his strength. It was the desperate, all-or-nothing blow of a Level 47 Soul Ancestor burning his reserves to the dregs. The sheer velocity and weight of the descending blade created a vacuum, making it look as though the very fabric of space was being sliced apart by the dark gold edge.
Liu Yuan tilted his head upward. The falling giant axe reflected clearly within the overlapping irises of his Double Pupils, a descending crescent of certain death. He drew in a slow, measured breath. Deep within his marrow, the Qilin Precious Technique was pushed to its absolute limit, circulating his vitality and soul power into a roaring, internal furnace.
Even in the face of this apocalyptic strike, his feet remained firmly planted. He still did not dodge.
Sinking his waist, Liu Yuan locked his stance into the cracked stone floor. He raised his left arm high above his head, offering his own flesh and bone as a shield to catch the Mad God Slash. Simultaneously, he pulled his right arm back, his fist trembling slightly as it charged with a terrifying, concentrated force—a kinetic payload heavy enough to split mountains and shatter boulders.
Squelch!
The giant energy axe crashed down. The dark gold blade tore through Liu Yuan's raised guard, slicing deep into his left shoulder and carving a horrific trench diagonally down his back. The wound was ghastly, parting muscle and tissue all the way down to the gleaming white bone beneath. A massive spray of fresh, hot blood erupted into the air, raining down to instantly stain the grey arena floor a gruesome crimson.
Yet, even as the illusory axe wedged itself brutally into his collarbone, Liu Yuan's knees did not buckle. His body remained upright, an immovable pillar of defiance. Through the spray of his own blood, his Double Pupils locked onto Long Aotian. The older boy was completely exposed, his body frozen in a momentary state of rigid stiffness after pouring every ounce of his strength into the downward swing.
Liu Yuan's voice was a cold, emotionless whisper. "Qilin Force. Break."
The right fist he had been holding in reserve finally launched forward. It moved like a fired artillery shell, slamming with devastating precision into the dead center of Long Aotian's chest.
Thwack!
Long Aotian's eyes bulged. He felt an irresistible, mountain-crushing force drill straight through his skin, bypassing his muscles and exploding directly into his internal organs. The vaunted darkgold defense that had protected him all his life disintegrated like wet paper under the sheer, concentrated violence of the Qilin Force.
The impact lifted him entirely off his feet. Like a kite with a snapped string, Long Aotian was launched backward through the air. He flew for dozens of meters, soaring over the boundary line before crashing heavily into the dirt outside the arena, tumbling limply until he finally skidded to a halt.
Back on the stage, Liu Yuan stood amidst the wreckage. The terrifying, bone-deep trench carved into his shoulder and back was already wriggling. Bathed in a vibrant emerald green light, the severed muscles and shattered bones rapidly restructured themselves. Within the span of a few short breaths, the horrific injury had completely vanished, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin. Only the massive pool of blood soaking his torn clothes and the stone floor remained to prove that the lethal strike had ever landed.
The sprawling martial arts arena was plunged into a suffocating, dead silence. No one dared to breathe.
Outside the ring, Long Aotian groaned. His limbs trembled violently as he struggled to push himself up from the dirt. He coughed, wiping a thick smear of blood from the corner of his mouth, and looked up at the youth standing on the shattered stage. Liu Yuan was calmly withdrawing his oppressive aura, his breathing steady.
Looking at the monster who had just broken him, Long Aotian felt no anger. The frustration and competitive fire had burned out, leaving behind only a deep sense of helplessness, mixed with a deep, absolute admiration.
"Junior Brother," Long Aotian rasped, his voice carrying across the quiet grounds. "You won. The current me... is completely incapable of beating you." He shook his head, a bitter but genuine smile touching his lips, his tone carrying a strange, quiet trace of relief.
It was only then that the spell broke. The entire martial arts arena erupted. A deafening tidal wave of unmatched cheers, gasps, and shouts of absolute shock shook the very foundations of the Body Sect.
As the roar of the crowd washed over the stage, every elder, disciple, and spectator present realized a single, absolute truth. The hierarchy they had known for years had just been shattered. The title of the strongest in the Body Sect's younger generation had officially changed hands today.
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