Facing Xing Tian's berserk fighting intent, which seemed capable of tearing even the heavens apart, Yang Chen showed not the slightest trace of solemnity. Instead, an almost delighted curve appeared on his lips.
He smiled.
The smile made no sound, yet it sent a greater chill through people's hearts than Xing Tian's earthshaking roar.
Excellent.
This was exactly the feeling.
There was none of Houtu's soft-edged scheming, none of the bone-deep venom harbored by Phoenix Ancestor and the others.
There was only the purest, most primal urge to smash the other person's bones one by one and grind their flesh completely into dust.
Why bother using his brain when dealing with an opponent so single-minded, with a head full of nothing but muscles?
Reasoning?
Those two words had never existed in the Witch Clan's dictionary.
They believed in only one thing.
Fists!
Boom!
An utterly different domineering aura erupted from Yang Chen's body! It was neither magical power nor divine ability, but the ultimate purity of savage force originating from life's most ancient form!
He did not transform into a colossal dragon tens of thousands of feet long. That would have been too conspicuous, and it would have robbed him of the fun of toying with these brutes "in a human body."
He merely activated the drop of Ancestral Dragon Essence Blood that had long fused into his limbs and bones, pushing this seemingly frail human Dao body through its ultimate enhancement toward its purest, most primal combat form!
Crack! Crackle!
A dense series of teeth-grinding explosions rang out from within his body!
He was not injured. His sinews and bones were stretching and reforging at a terrifying pace! His flesh was tearing apart, regenerating, and leaping toward a higher form of life!
Facing that storm of fighting intent, his body advanced rather than retreated, expanding higher and higher!
In the blink of an eye, he had become a giant one hundred zhang tall.
The flesh of this body no longer bore the color of a mortal's flesh. Instead, it flowed with a layer of dazzling, abyssally profound dark-gold divine radiance.
Beneath every inch of skin, countless tiny dragon shadows seemed to be racing about. Each heartbeat stirred blood and vitality like collapsing mountains and raging seas, producing a thunderous boom.
He displayed none of the Dragon Clan's features—no dragon horns, no dragon scales.
Yet the savagery and pressure of the primordial first overlord, towering above all things and treating all living beings like grass, was older, deeper, and even more unreasonable than Xing Tian's pure fighting intent!
Though his body was still smaller than Xing Tian's mountain-like frame.
The dark-gold divine radiance swirling around Yang Chen and his domineering aura of sovereign command over heaven and earth instantly forced back the pressure Xing Tian had unleashed, dividing control of this world equally between them!
Floating in the air, his dark-gold pupils looked down on the Great Witch whose fighting intent was boiling over. He slowly raised his right hand.
He spread his fingers, then lightly curled one finger at Xing Tian.
A gesture of utter provocation.
Throughout the clamorous Witch Clan tribe, countless gazes locked firmly onto that gesture.
"Want to fight?"
His voice was no longer indifferent. It now carried a trace of playful amusement, each word ringing clearly in every Witch Person's ears and within Xing Tian's Divine Soul.
"Fine. I'll oblige you."
The smile on his face deepened, like a child who had found a novel new toy.
"But I should make one thing clear first."
As his tone shifted, Yang Chen's smile became somewhat strange.
It was an expression blending innocence with extreme danger, making Houtu's heart clench sharply in the distance.
"My fists are like me. Not very stable."
He spoke unhurriedly, as if he were not declaring something before a life-and-death battle, but merely stating a trivial yet slightly bothersome matter.
"Sometimes, while fighting, I might lose control..."
He paused, parted his lips, and silently formed a single word.
"Bang."
It was not a sound.
It was more like a concept, a signal, an echo transmitted from the end of all things.
The instant his words fell, a trace of aura quietly leaked from his hundred-zhang dark-gold divine body.
It was not magical power.
It was not blood and vitality.
Nor was it any force of the Divine Soul.
It was a destructive will so pure and violent that even lofty Saints would feel their scalps tingle.
Cold.
Deathly still.
There was no emotion of life within it, only the ultimate violence that would reduce everything to nothingness and return heaven and earth to chaos.
The instant that aura appeared, the light and heat between heaven and earth seemed to be sucked dry by an invisible black hole.
Xing Tian's fervent fighting intent, enough to burn mountains and boil seas, and that blood-red beacon piercing the heavens, visibly stagnated under the erosion of this aura!
Boiling magma was frozen by absolute nothingness.
Even Houtu in the distance, whose gentle and compassionate eyes seemed to bear the entire earth, had her pupils suddenly contract into dangerous pinpoints.
This aura...
It was the karmic force of the Immeasurable Tribulation!
He could actually actively draw upon this power, which even Saints avoided and even the Heavenly Dao sealed with extreme caution?!
He was not a vessel tortured by this force!
He was its master!
Yang Chen completely ignored the stormy waves rising in Houtu's heart.
He extended that enormous palm flowing with dark-gold divine light and patted his glowing chest with an "innocent" expression.
The motion was gentle, even carrying a hint of soothing comfort.
It was as though he were calming a naughty child who might start crying and throwing a tantrum at any moment, overturning the entire world.
"So, when we fight later, you'd better be careful."
His voice was full of a "kindhearted" warning, entering every Witch Person's ears with perfect clarity.
"If you hurt me, or annoy me, and I accidentally fail to control myself and self-destruct..."
As he spoke, he swept his gaze across the magnificent Witch Clan tribe below.
His gaze lingered for an extra moment on the Twelve Ancestral Witches Stone Statues, which stood tall enough to support the heavens and exuded an ancient, desolate aura.
The meaning in his eyes was obvious.
"If I blow your Twelve Ancestral Witches Stone Statues, along with the entire tribe, into the sky..."
Yang Chen revealed an exceptionally brilliant smile filled with apology.
"That would be rather embarrassing."
Those words were light and airy, without the slightest killing intent.
Yet every word was like an invisible chaotic divine hammer, smashing hard into the hearts of every Witch Person and into their faith.
Silence.
A deathly silence.
Xing Tian's violent storm of fighting intent stopped.
That blood-red beacon soaring into the sky crumbled inch by inch in midair, not because it had been defeated, but because its master had lost the will to keep driving it onward.
His enormous battle-axe, raised over his head and poised to strike, froze in midair. It was as heavy as the eternal azure heavens, yet could no longer descend even an inch.
Within his lava-burning eyes, that pure, reckless desire for battle was, for the first time, replaced by an entirely different emotion.
A trace of astonishment.
A trace of confusion.
And an unprecedented sense of... trouble.
Fighting?
The Witch Clan was not afraid.
They were born for battle and died in battle. Combat was their inborn destiny.
Death?
The Witch Clan feared it even less!
To die in battle and return to Father God's embrace was the highest honor of every Witch Person!
But this fellow before them was not talking about a fight, nor life and death.
He was talking about... flipping the table!
He had no intention of determining victory or defeat within the rules.
Not only did he want to compete with Xing Tian over whose fists were harder, he was also placing "self-destruction"—the ultimate weapon capable of destroying everything and making even Saints change color—openly and plainly on the table.
In the gentlest tone, he had issued the most overbearing, most unreasonable threat.
Could they afford to fight this battle?
Before you continue