Xing Tian Softens: Brother, Let's Talk Properly!

Time seemed to stretch to its absolute limit at that moment.

A mere wisp of the ultimate, tyrannical aura capable of returning heaven and earth to chaos was enough to drain all sound and color from this desolate land.

The wind stopped.

The clouds froze.

Even the swirling dust in the air hung eerily still, as if clutched by an invisible hand, unable to move.

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

His eyes, burning with lava, lost all light and heat, leaving only an extreme, pure bewilderment.

His fighting spirit was frozen inch by inch within his Divine Soul.

His killing intent disintegrated piece by piece within his Bloodline.

The massive battle axe, held high above his head and imbued with his lifelong fighting spirit, felt as heavy as the eternal sky, yet it could no longer be brought down.

On the axe blade, the malevolent aura of the Primordial Era's ferocious beasts, in the face of this higher, purer will of destruction, let out an almost imperceptible whimper, trembling.

Fighting?

The Witch Clan feared no fight.

They were born for battle, died in battle; fighting was their inherent destiny.

Death?

The Witch Clan feared death even less!

To die on the battlefield and return to the embrace of the Father God was the highest honor for every Witch Person!

But this guy before them wasn't talking about fighting, nor about life and death.

He was talking about... flipping the table!

He had no intention of settling the outcome within the rules.

He wasn't just competing with Xing Tian to see whose fist was harder; he was clearly, unequivocally placing the ultimate trump card – self-detonation, capable of destroying everything and making Saints turn pale – on the table.

He used the gentlest tone to issue the most barbaric, unreasonable threat.

Could you afford to fight this battle?

Xing Tian's mind went blank.

His simple, direct mindset, which believed only in strength and combat, encountered a situation it couldn't process for the first time.

What was this?

Was this combat?

No.

It wasn't.

This was a game from a higher dimension that he had never understood... a gamble.

He could die by Yang Chen's fist; that would be the glory of a warrior.

But if he caused the other party to self-detonate, turning the entire tribe, even the Father God's twelve stone statues, into dust...

Then he, Xing Tian, would become the greatest sinner in the history of the Witch Clan.

This thought, colder than any divine weapon, instantly pierced his Dao Heart, which was as hard as divine iron.

A drop of cold sweat slid down his rugged forehead.

On this land, as scorching as a furnace, he felt a bone-chilling cold for the first time.

Below, tens of thousands of Witch People were also plunged into deathly silence.

The fervor and excitement on their faces had long since faded, replaced by a dazed look mixed with fear, absurdity, and disbelief.

A Witch Person, who had just been exercising his arm strength with a huge boulder, froze mid-motion. The boulder, weighing tens of thousands of pounds, slipped from his grasp and landed on the ground with a dull thud, yet he seemed oblivious.

A witch, who was in the process of skinning prey with a beast-tooth dagger, had her eyes wide open, the tip of the dagger mere millimeters from her own hand, yet she paid it no mind.

Their worldview, at this moment, was completely shattered by Yang Chen's casually spoken words.

In the distance, within Houtu's always gentle and compassionate eyes, a storm surged deep within.

The moment that destructive aura leaked, her Earth Force Field instinctively contracted to its extreme, shielding her tightly.

But even so, she felt a tremor originating from the very source of her life.

This man...

He wasn't bluffing!

He could truly invoke the Karma and Karmic Force of that Immeasurable Tribulation!

He wasn't a vessel tormented by this power!

He was the master of this power!

A person capable of controlling "ultimate destruction" needed to be re-evaluated in terms of his value and danger.

No, it must be redefined with the highest level!

In the suffocating silence, Yang Chen smiled.

The hundred-zhang-tall dark gold divine body surrounding him receded like a tide, the brilliant divine light rolling back and re-entering the seemingly slender human Dao body.

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

It was as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion.

He returned to his normal size, his figure flashed, and he appeared before Xing Tian, who was still frozen in mid-air.

Xing Tian's massive body trembled violently, his muscles tensing to the extreme, like a ferocious beast cornered.

"Don't be nervous."

Yang Chen's voice was soft, with a hint of teasing laughter.

He reached out and gently patted the terrifyingly muscled arm, thicker than his own thigh.

Pat.

A soft sound.

In the silent square, it clearly reached the ears of every Witch Person.

The action was filled with an indescribable strangeness.

A tiny human, comforting a mountain-like Primordial Era god.

Xing Tian's muscles, the moment that palm touched his skin, first broke out in goosebumps, and then strangely relaxed.

The destructive aura that had frozen his Divine Soul was truly gone.

His brain, which had been shut down, finally began to function again.

He had survived.

The tribe was safe.

The Father God's statue was also safe.

A sense of relief from surviving a disaster, mixed with unprecedented humiliation, surged into his heart.

His rugged face instantly turned a bruised liver color, his expression shifting rapidly, incredibly vivid.

Finally, all emotions turned into a smile uglier than crying.

He awkwardly scratched his head, the movement appearing incredibly clumsy.

Then, under the ghost-like gazes of all the Witch Clan members, he put away the great axe he always carried and awkwardly cupped his fists towards Yang Chen.

"Well... that..."

He opened his mouth, finding his throat extremely dry, and the sound that came out was hoarse and unpleasant.

"Brother!"

He almost roared these two words.

"It was a misunderstanding! All a misunderstanding!"

Xing Tian's face was flushed red, and he spoke with astonishing speed.

"I... I just saw your powerful physique and abundant Blood Essence, and my hands got itchy. I wanted to spar with you! Yes, just spar! No other intentions!"

He explained frantically, as if afraid that if he spoke too slowly, that "bang" sound would come again.

"Let's talk properly! Don't be impulsive, absolutely don't be impulsive!"

The speed of his change in attitude stunned everyone.

One moment, the Great Witch Xing Tian was shouting threats, his battle intent soaring, wanting to test Yang Chen's mettle with his axe. The next, he was all smiles, bowing and scraping like a peacemaker.

Yang Chen chuckled inwardly.

As expected, dealing with this kind of brute whose brain was filled with muscle, any scheme or trick was less direct and effective than "nuclear deterrence."

He knew when to stop, and the smile on his face became even more amiable.

He patted Xing Tian's iron-hard shoulder again, this time with slightly more force, like comforting a startled pet.

"That's more like it."

He said with a chuckle, his tone like that of a patient elder.

"We're all civilized people, fighting and killing is so unpleasant."