It was the person who had stood in front of him during Martial Soul awakening!
His Martial Soul was a bat, and he had the same kidney-deficient appearance.
But back then, he had merely looked weak. He had not looked like he was about to die from years of drug abuse, like he did now.
Fang Ling remembered that sickly child. He had possessed innate half-rank Soul Power, the same level as Yu Xiaogang.
If these two were the same person...
In just over a year, a person with half-rank Soul Power had actually become a Soul Master before Fang Ling?
And their Martial Souls had awakened at roughly the same time. How had he grown from a child into a young man so quickly, and even obtained a Hundred Year Spirit Ring?
Fang Ling could think of only one possibility—he was a Fallen Spirit Master!
Such tremendous improvement and such rapid forced maturation of the body could only be explained by a Fallen Spirit Master.
After all, Bats could absorb Blood!
Those sharp fangs and that weakly appearance vividly demonstrated exactly that to Fang Ling.
It was also easy to understand why he had been lying in the middle of the road and happened to encounter Fang Ling.
It was midsummer, and afternoon was the hottest time of day.
There were not exactly no carriages on the road, but they were extremely scarce.
Fallen Spirit Masters cultivated quickly, but naturally, each had their own problems.
This one had probably suffered an episode and happened to run into him.
Fang Ling had initially planned to take a detour and run straight back to Notting City to report him to Spirit Hall.
He had not expected this young man to chase him into the woods just to kill him.
It seemed he had set his sights on Fang Ling!
Fang Ling sneered inwardly.
He had happened to run into a rookie Fallen Spirit Master.
He had likely just absorbed a Soul Ring and become a Soul Master not long ago, and he was extremely poor at fighting.
He was not even as good as Wang Sheng, who only knew how to use brute strength and take a beating.
Compared to Fang Ling, this guy was a huge one-meter-seventy man, yet he had actually dared to chase into a forest with such complicated terrain and dense branches.
Fang Ling had honed his level-one Body Technique in the academy grove. His small, thin frame allowed him to move through it relatively freely.
What did this kidney-deficient young man have?
A body full of evil aura?
Sure enough, he got caught on the branches.
Fang Ling seized that opportunity and swung his sickle back at him!
The forest was dense enough that no one could see what was happening here.
He had long wanted to test how many points a Soul Master could give him.
Any Fallen Spirit Master could be killed!
Spirit Hall had established that rule, and neither of the two great empires dared defy it.
Killing one would not only bring no future trouble, but also earn a reward.
The young man withdrew one Steel Claw, while the other swiftly stabbed straight toward Fang Ling's eye.
If that long reach connected, it might kill Fang Ling in one blow or gouge out one of his eyes.
It looked dangerous, but it was actually within Fang Ling's expectations.
He had not practiced the Scythe Technique for nothing.
Fang Ling lightly tilted the sickle in his right hand, carving a bloody gash across the man's arm. At the same time, he braced it with the handle and knocked the attack aside.
The young man's strike missed completely.
At some point, Fang Ling had already raised his left hand and aimed at a vulnerable spot.
"Hah!" His eyes flashed as he let out a furious shout.
The sickle in his right hand vanished and suddenly appeared in his left.
The sickle trembled like a nimble snake in his hand as he brought it down between the kidney-deficient young man's legs.
He did not choose to cut through in one stroke.
The pain would have been too intense and might have driven the enemy into a frenzy.
If the man ignored the blood and pain and counterattacked madly, Fang Ling would have no choice but to run.
So he chose the back of the blade. It was thicker and would not cut it off.
As long as it hit, with his pair of qilin arms, he would let this Fallen Spirit Master experience what it meant to have his chicken fly and eggs shatter—what sustained damage truly meant!
The sensitive nerves there would be enough to drastically alter his fighting posture.
"Crack~"
The blow was so powerful that the young man's pubic bone seemed to fracture, producing a crisp sound.
"Aah—!"
A brief cry escaped him. His eyes bulged, and his face instantly flushed red like a monkey's backside.
A layer of fine cold sweat immediately broke out across his forehead.
He instinctively wanted to bend over and cover the spot that had been hit.
But when he remembered that he was still fighting, he forcibly stopped himself, making his movements look exceedingly stiff.
Fang Ling seized that moment and rapidly adjusted his direction on the tips of his feet.
His left-foot prosthesis, now made of ironwood and wrapped in iron plating, kicked the arm the man was wildly waving to keep Fang Ling from approaching.
The kick trapped the young man's arm against the branches.
The sickle appeared again, this time aimed at his fatal neck.
Fang Ling charged forward at high speed, spun sharply, and slashed upward diagonally. Blood sprayed wildly.
Then he planted his right foot against the young man's chest and retreated to a safe distance, waiting quietly.
The Pale-Faced young man weakly dropped to his knees, clutching his throat and making hoarse choking sounds.
Finally, he gave Fang Ling one unwilling look. Darkness filled his vision, and he sank into eternal silence.
Fang Ling did not look at him again.
The illusory gray Stats Panel in his eyes changed once more.
The Progress Bar surged forward, instantly filled, and produced one point.
Points: 0→1
Killing a Soul Master had earned him a full point!
Sure enough, he still had to kill Soul Masters!
Excitement flashed through Fang Ling's eyes.
He immediately added that one point to the Soul Power attribute.
The points returned to zero, while his Soul Power changed: 5 (37%)→6 (37%).
Level six!
As long as he gained another four levels, Fang Ling could report to the academy and obtain a Soul Ring.
Then he could choose to graduate early and head somewhere bigger to study at an Intermediate Spirit Master Academy.
The primary academy was merely a stepping stone.
Fang Ling's goal was very clear. There was no way he would stay here for six years like Tang San and Xiao Wu, then go to that shitty Shrek Academy.
His short-term goal was the Great Soul Arena.
Now, Fang Ling had already felt the limitations of practicing techniques alone.
That made him crave systematic training even more, so he could make up for his shortcomings.
The further one progressed on the path of a Soul Master, the harder it became.
Fang Ling wanted to walk the path of close combat. He absolutely could not become impatient or slack off in the slightest.
The doubled results from training techniques were simply too advantageous for close combat.
He did not need to worry about Soul Power. What he needed was more accumulation in terms of techniques.
Then, using Bibi Dong's influence, he would soar to greatness in Slaughter City!
"Rustle, rustle."
The sound of branches being pushed apart and leaves brushing against each other reached him.
It made Fang Ling, who had just been about to search the corpse out of habit, pause.
He took several steps back and stared toward the source of the sound with deep wariness in his eyes. The sickle reappeared in his hand.
Why would anyone come here in the middle of such a hot day?
The next moment, three handsome young men appeared before Fang Ling.
They wore fitted white outfits threaded with gold. Three pairs of pure white wings were embroidered over their left chests, with a gemstone in the center of the wings bearing the character for Spirit.
They were from Spirit Hall!
Three pairs of white wings represented the Six-Winged Seraph.
They had likely come to capture this Evil Spirit Master.
Fang Ling relaxed slightly.
The newcomers' gazes swept back and forth several times between the corpse kneeling on the ground with its backside in the air and Fang Ling.
The leading man especially examined the sickle in Fang Ling's hand and the prosthetic on his left foot. His expression became even more astonished as he gestured with his chin.
"Kid, did you kill this?"
"Of course!"
Clicking his tongue in amazement, the leading man immediately released his Martial Soul.
A pair of pure white wings unfolded, carrying a faint holy radiance. Only then did Fang Ling finally put his mind at ease.
Seeing this, the man extended a hand and said admiringly, "Good kid! Let's get acquainted."
"Spirit Hall Angel Legion Demon Hunt Camp, squad captain, Qian Yao."
"Member, Qian Chaolong."
"Member, Qian Feiguang."
"My name is Fang Ling. I'm still studying at Notting Academy." Fang Ling paused, then smiled and shook his hand.
The emphasis was clear: do not suck up to Spirit Hall; walk your own path.
Before you continue