The White Tiger of Suotuo City

Dai Mubai walked listlessly through the bustling streets of Suotuo City, thinking about his future and unable to stop himself from feeling lost and irritated.

"Handsome boy! Come over here!" A gaudily dressed courtesan waved a handkerchief at Dai Mubai and laughed flirtatiously.

Dai Mubai impatiently shook off the entanglement of those women, and his heart, which had only just calmed down, began to grow restless again.

Dai Mubai did not know how much longer he could keep running away, nor how long it would be before he had to face his inevitable fate.

People were like that. When they were in a bad mood, they always wanted to vent!

Dai Mubai came to the sparsely populated outskirts and let out a sky-piercing roar, venting his frustration as his claws raked the pitiful trees before him.

"Why? Why?" Dai Mubai seemed possessed at that moment, endlessly repeating those words.

"Wake up!" A loud shout exploded beside Dai Mubai's ears like muffled thunder, pulling his wandering mind back.

"Who?" Dai Mubai leaped forward alertly and turned to look behind him warily.

He saw a youth in red armor leaning casually against a large tree, looking at him with faint disdain.

"What a piece of trash!" Madara shook his head and mocked him.

"Do you dare say that again?" Dai Mubai flew into a rage upon hearing it. Like a cat with its fur standing on end, he looked ready to make Madara pay.

"Wasn't I clear enough? Trash!" Madara had merely happened to pass by and seen a soul master who had lost control of himself, so he had called out to wake him.

Yet this man did not seem grateful at all. Instead, he wanted to turn his blade against his benefactor.

Madara had not considered how devastating those words might sound to someone plagued by self-doubt.

Even if Madara had known, he would not have cared much. Since when did Uchiha Madara need to care about the thoughts of some insignificant junior?

"Ah!" Dai Mubai was clearly angry from shame. His face flushed red, even turning somewhat ferocious, as he charged straight at Madara.

Dai Mubai moved as swiftly as the wind, carving a line through the dense grass of the outskirts, almost leaving afterimages behind him.

The strong drew their blades against those stronger than themselves; the weak drew their blades against those weaker than themselves.

In Madara's eyes, Dai Mubai had taken him for a soft target today.

Someone who ran from trouble, someone weak among the weak, was undoubtedly beneath contempt in Madara's eyes.

Madara lowered himself slightly into a stance, then charged forward without the slightest intention of yielding.

Dai Mubai would never have dreamed that someone he had casually encountered on the road could be this powerful.

As Madara rushed forward, he threw a punch that collided with Dai Mubai's tiger claw, producing a dull boom.

Dai Mubai staggered back three steps before barely steadying himself. Madara, on the other hand, did not retreat even a single step and was already about to press his advantage.

Madara's fist felt slightly numb, and he was somewhat surprised by the strength of the boy with differently colored eyes. Still, his words showed no mercy as he mocked, "Who gave you the courage to throw a punch at me?"

Even Madara's hand felt faintly sore, so how could Dai Mubai be any better off?

Dai Mubai had regretted it the instant their fists collided. His entire left arm felt as though it had been shattered by the blow and was nearly numb, able to move only with difficulty.

"Again!" Madara gave Dai Mubai no chance to use Martial Soul Possession. He closed in and shouted, "Let me see what you're made of!"

Dai Mubai had no way to voice his suffering. In an ordinary battle between soul masters, they would naturally use Martial Soul Possession and fight properly. He had only thought he was dealing with some bystander, so he had underestimated his opponent.

If Dai Mubai had been given time to react and use the White Tiger Martial Soul Possession, they might have fought back and forth for quite a while. After all, Madara's martial soul did not provide any enhancement to his body, while Dai Mubai's White Tiger Martial Soul could be considered one of the top beast martial souls on the Douluo Continent.

Dai Mubai had also stirred Madara's fighting spirit. He had thought he had encountered useless trash, but it turned out to be a punching bag that could take a beating.

Once Madara was interested, no one could stop him. He was going to give this Dai Mubai a thorough beating.

"Not bad, not bad! Keep coming!" Madara laughed wildly, even seeming a little deranged, but his punches did not slow in the slightest. Each one was fiercer than the last.

At that moment, Dai Mubai could only struggle to block Madara's relentless attacks, desperately defending himself and looking thoroughly overwhelmed.

Before long, his defense failed, and Madara's fist struck his chest. Dai Mubai spat blood and flew away like a torn sack.

"I take back what I said!" Madara looked far happier than before, like a child who had found the toy he wanted. "You're really not trash! You're worth a tiny bit of excitement!"

Dai Mubai staggered as he tried to rise, only for Madara to kick him back down.

"If you want revenge next time, come to the Soul Fighting Arena!" Madara planted one foot on Dai Mubai's chest and looked down at the defeated Dai Mubai from above.

"Who exactly are you?" Dai Mubai swayed to his feet and roared helplessly at Madara's departing back.

Madara had no interest in answering him and walked toward the city without looking back.

"Little kitty! You won't be so lucky next time!" Madara waved behind him without turning around, his tone filled with contempt.

Dai Mubai lowered his head. His golden hair concealed his expression, but his hands were clenched tightly enough for veins to bulge across them.

"The Soul Fighting Arena?"

Madara did not see Dai Mubai's reaction afterward at all, and even if he had, he would not have cared.

Madara had left those words behind because Dai Mubai's strength was not bad. With some proper training and beating, he could become another toy that would last a long time.

Madara was simply too bored, so he could only create some weaker opponents for himself to add a little fun!

Perhaps that was the loneliness of the strong!

Having just arrived in Suotuo City, Madara hastily finished dinner and immediately began participating in soul fights.

Battle always made Madara impatient with anticipation!

"Are you ready?" Jerry asked softly from beside him.

"Are you looking down on me?" Madara sneered, as though he had heard the greatest joke in the world. "Do I need to prepare for this childish game?"

"Do whatever you want!" Jerry had clearly become immune to Madara's barbed remarks, though he still had the urge to punch him.

There was no helping it. Madara had always been like this—if you disagreed, then come fight! If you could not beat him, then swallow it!

So far, there truly had not been anyone capable of teaching Madara a lesson.

Madara closed his eyes and took a light breath, savoring the refreshing scent brought by the faint rain falling tonight.

This rain, this scent... it felt as though something was still missing?

Madara suddenly opened his eyes. The crimson tomoe in them spun, and a cold smile crept across his face.

That's right. What was missing was the screams and the scent of blood!