Xing Tian Backs Down: Brother, Let's Talk This Out!

At this moment, time seemed to stretch to its very limit.

That ultimate, savage aura capable of returning heaven and earth to chaos leaked out by only a trace, yet it drained all sound and color from this desolate land.

The wind stopped.

The clouds froze.

Even the dust churning through the air hung eerily suspended, as if gripped by an invisible hand, unable to move.

Xing Tian's mountain-like body went completely rigid.

The magma-burning light in his eyes vanished, leaving behind only utter, pure bewilderment.

The will to fight froze inch by inch within his Divine Soul.

Killing intent crumbled bit by bit within his bloodline.

The enormous battle-axe raised above his head, containing all the fighting spirit of his life, now felt as heavy as the eternal heavens, yet he could no longer bring it down even an inch.

The baleful resentment of an ancient ferocious beast lingering around its blade let out a nearly inaudible whimper before this higher, purer will of destruction, trembling in fear.

A fight?

The Witch Clan did not fear one.

They were born for battle and died in battle. Fighting was their inborn fate.

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 fighting, nor was he talking about life and death.

He was talking about... flipping the table!

He had never intended to determine victory or defeat within the rules.

He did not merely want to compare fists with Xing Tian. He was openly placing "self-destruction"—that ultimate trump card capable of annihilating everything and making even Saints pale—on the table.

In the gentlest tone, he had issued the most tyrannical, unreasonable threat.

Could Xing Tian afford to fight this battle?

Xing Tian's mind went blank.

For the first time, his simple, straightforward way of thinking, which believed only in strength and battle, encountered a situation it could not handle.

What was this?

Was this a fight?

No.

It was not.

This was a kind of... game, from a higher dimension, one he had never understood.

He could die beneath Yang Chen's fists. That would be a warrior's glory.

But if he provoked the other man into self-destruction, turning the entire tribe and Father God's twelve stone statues into ashes...

Then Xing Tian would become the greatest sinner in the Witch Clan's eternal history.

That thought was colder than any divine weapon, instantly piercing his Dao Heart, which was sturdier than divine iron.

A drop of cold sweat slid down his rugged brow.

For the first time, on this furnace-hot land, he felt bone-deep cold.

Below, tens of thousands of Witch People had likewise fallen into deathly silence.

The fanaticism and excitement on their faces had long faded, replaced by stunned expressions mixed with terror, absurdity, and disbelief.

One Witch Person who had been training his arm strength with a boulder froze with his arm raised. The boulder, weighing ten thousand jun, slipped from his hand and smashed into the ground with a dull boom, yet he did not notice at all.

A witch woman who had been carving up prey with a beast-fang dagger stared wide-eyed. The dagger's tip was only a hair's breadth from her palm, yet she paid it no heed.

Their worldview had been utterly shattered by Yang Chen's casual remark.

In the distance, towering waves surged within the depths of Houtu's ever-gentle, compassionate eyes.

The instant that trace of destructive aura leaked out, her earth field instinctively contracted to its limit, shielding her tightly.

Yet even so, she still felt a tremor rising from the very origin of her life.

This man...

He was not bluffing!

He truly could invoke the karmic retribution of the Immeasurable Tribulation!

He was not a vessel being tortured by this power!

He was the master of this power!

The value and danger posed by someone capable of controlling "ultimate destruction" needed to be reassessed.

No, they had to be redefined at the highest level!

Amid that suffocating silence, Yang Chen smiled.

The hundred-zhang dark-gold divine body surrounding him receded like a tide. Brilliant divine light swept back and condensed once more into his seemingly slender human Dao body.

All pressure, all dominance, all destructive aura vanished without a trace in an instant.

As if everything that had just happened had been an illusion.

He returned to normal size, then flashed forward and appeared before Xing Tian, who still hung rigidly in the air.

Xing Tian's massive body shuddered violently, every muscle instantly tensing to the limit like a ferocious beast driven into a corner.

"Don't be nervous."

Yang Chen's voice was soft, carrying a teasing hint of amusement.

He reached out and gently patted the arm thicker than his own thigh, knotted with terrifying muscles.

Smack.

A soft sound.

In the utterly silent square, it reached the ears of every Witch Person with perfect clarity.

The gesture carried an indescribably strange feeling.

A tiny human was soothing a primordial godfiend as immense as a mountain.

The instant that palm touched his skin, goosebumps rose all over Xing Tian's body. Then, just as strangely, his muscles relaxed.

That destructive aura that had frozen his Divine Soul had truly disappeared.

His mind, which had been completely shut down, finally began working again.

He had survived.

The tribe had been preserved.

Father God's stone statues had been preserved as well.

The relief of surviving a catastrophe mixed with unprecedented humiliation, flooding his heart.

His rugged face instantly turned the color of liver, his expression changing so wildly it was almost spectacular.

In the end, every emotion turned into a smile uglier than crying.

He scratched his head awkwardly, the gesture looking incomparably clumsy.

Then, beneath the ghost-struck gazes of every Witch Clan member, he put away the giant axe that never left his side and awkwardly cupped his fists toward Yang Chen.

"Um... well..."

He opened his mouth, only to discover that his throat was painfully dry, and his voice came out rough and grating.

"Brother!"

He practically roared those two words.

"A misunderstanding! It's all a misunderstanding!"

Xing Tian's face flushed crimson, and he spoke at astonishing speed.

"I... I just saw how strong your body was, how vigorous your blood and vitality were, and my hands got itchy. I wanted to spar with you! Yes! Just a spar! I didn't mean anything else!"

He desperately explained himself, as though afraid that if he spoke too slowly, that other man's "boom" would appear again.

"Let's talk things out! Don't act rashly, whatever you do, don't act rashly!"

The abruptness of this change in attitude left everyone dumbfounded.

A moment ago, Great Witch Xing Tian had been roaring for battle, his fighting spirit soaring to the heavens as he prepared to test Yang Chen's mettle with his axe. The next moment, he had turned into a smiling, bowing peacemaker.

Yang Chen laughed inwardly.

Sure enough, when dealing with reckless brutes whose brains were packed with muscle, no schemes or plots were as direct and effective as "nuclear deterrence."

Knowing when to stop, he let the smile on his face grow increasingly genial.

He patted Xing Tian's iron-hard shoulder again, applying slightly more force, as though soothing a startled pet.

"Now that's more like it."

He said it with a cheerful smile, in the tone of a patient elder guiding someone along.

"We're all civilized people. What's so good about all this fighting and killing?"