Zhao Wuji slammed down hard—
"Crack—"
This time, the Eight Spider Lances shattered cleanly.
Several of Tang Lan's ribs broke as well, one even piercing out through his chest.
It gave Zhao Wuji quite a scare!
—The sect master really dared to do it? He'd disabled both the Indestructible Body and the Undying Imprint Technique?
He was just about to call for Oscar when—
Before Tang Lan's blood could even spurt out, the rib protruding from his chest had already retracted, and the wound healed in an instant.
The Eight Spider Lances grew back from his back at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Zhao Wuji stared, dumbstruck!
This...
Was that even a human's healing speed?
A wound that would leave anyone else gravely injured and near death had healed for him in just a few breaths?
Tang Lan stretched, making the Eight Spider Lances knock against one another.
"The hardness has improved a little, but not by much."
"Looks like we'll be busy tonight."
"A Four-Ring Soul Grandmaster fighting a Seven-Ring Soul Sage head-on without using his martial soul is still a bit of a stretch."
Zhao Wuji: "..."
Did he even hear what he was saying?
What kind of outrageous nonsense was that?
Your father was a Titled Douluo who could beat me barehanded without using his martial soul.
Fine, I accepted that.
But you, a Four-Ring Soul Grandmaster, wanted to compare physiques with me, a Seven-Ring Soul Sage, using only your bare hands?
—And I'd even activated a soul skill!
Still...
"Wait!" Zhao Wuji sensed something was off. "Sect Master, what level are you now?"
"Not much. Level 47."
"..."
Silence.
Endless silence.
Tang Lan was only thirteen years, one month, and three days old today.
Yet he was already level 47?
He had directly broken