Starve Him to Death

Zhang Chen was utterly speechless—completely, utterly speechless. He had never heard of immortals who, after mastering strength capable of moving mountains and overturning seas, still needed to eat, drink, piss, shit, and relieve themselves.

Zhang Chen gave off the feeling of a superpowered being who had stepped straight out of Marvel.

Take Magneto, for example. He could control the steel between heaven and earth, and in terms of terrifying power, he was no weaker than a ninth-order powerhouse of this world. Yet he still could not escape eating, drinking, pissing, shitting, and sleeping.

Even gods sustained by incense offerings, so long as their fleshly bodies had not died, found it difficult to escape the troublesome matters of eating, drinking, pissing, and shitting. Zhang Chen was different. After mastering the Qi Refining Technique and cultivating a Primordial Spirit, all the food he swallowed was directly refined into Turbid Qi and expelled with his breath.

Chen Sanliang cultivated the Confucian Dao. Although he had already entered the Eleventh Order, tempered his sinews, bones, and meridians throughout his body, forged jade-like bones, and survived the Three Calamities, he still found it difficult to break free from the laws of the acquired world.

Only now did Zhang Chen come to his senses and realize something was wrong. These people were harboring sinister intentions, weren't they? Who held a philosophical debate without leaving the other party even time to eat or drink?

"Could it be that they intend to debate Chen Sanliang for seven days straight, all the way until the day of his final battle?" Zhang Chen's eyes revealed a trace of disbelief.

"Looking at it now, that's very possible! If Chen Sanliang truly goes seven days without food or water while talking without pause, then even if he doesn't die after seven days,