The Winner... Grade One Class Three

"A Martial Soul Fusion Skill?!"

The three students from Class One-Five, led by Wu Zhangkong, watched the actions of Zhang Yangzi and Wang Jinxi from Class One-One in astonishment. This was clearly a Martial Soul Fusion Skill!

Such a trump card, hidden until the very end—if not for Situ Xuan, these two would have been the true test for Class One-Five.

But then, Wu Zhangkong gave a bitter smile.

It didn't matter what was said; a loss was a loss.

As things stood now, whether it was the ambitious Class One-Five or the Class One-One duo wielding a Martial Soul Fusion Skill, both could only serve as stepping stones for Situ Xuan.

Pitch-black soul power flowed around Wang Jinxi like spilled ink, and his body swelled rapidly under the shocked gazes of the crowd.

His bones emitted a teeth-gritting "crackling" sound, and his muscles bulged like an inflating balloon, exceeding two meters in height in the blink of an eye.

A thick, bony tail extended from his spine, snapping through the air with a "pop" sound as it lashed out behind him.

Most eye-catching of all were the pair of pitch-black wings unfurling from his back—each feather shimmered with a metallic luster like a sharp blade, with a wingspan of fully four meters.

As the wings flapped slightly, the resulting gusts of wind forced the students at the edge of the arena to take several steps back.

"Is this a Martial Soul Fusion Skill?"

Zhou Tianyang's face turned pale, and he instinctively gripped Lin Yao's shoulder. "This aura... it's at least at the level of a three-ring Soul Master, right?"

On the arena, the mutated Wang Jinxi slowly raised his head, his eyes now hawk-like vertical pupils. He opened his mouth, but the sound that emerged was a strange roar, a mix of dragon's growl and eagle's screech: "Roar—!"

"You two get lost; don't get in my way."

Situ Xuan grabbed Lin Yao and Zhou Tianyang, one in each hand, and tossed them off the arena before turning to face Wang Jinxi in his Martial Soul Fusion state.

"You are still not enough."

Situ Xuan looked at Wang Jinxi indifferently. The opponent before him only looked somewhat oppressive, but in reality, he hadn't even provided as much pressure as Gu Yue alone.

"Arrogant!"

Wang Jinxi roared. At this moment, he could no longer care about their original plan and charged straight forward, his massive Bone Dragon Claw smashing down.

Wang Jinxi's Bone Dragon Claw descended with a terrifying gust of wind, its black scales gleaming with a metallic luster under the sun. This giant claw was the size of a washbasin; if hit head-on, even granite would likely be pulverized into dust.

Situ Xuan, however, remained motionless, merely raising his right arm slightly. His arm looked so slender beneath the shadow of the dragon claw that it seemed as if it would be crushed in the next second. But just as the claw was three inches from his head, Situ Xuan suddenly moved.

His wrist twisted at an uncanny angle, his five fingers spreading like a blooming lotus before suddenly clenching into a fist.

In that single motion of opening and closing, he stirred up three visible shockwaves.

This was an opening move that both Long Xiuyuan and Wu Zhangkong were intimately familiar with, and the two teachers couldn't help but mutter...

"North Star Dragon Strikes Tiger!"

The moment the fist and claw collided, the entire arena shook violently.

The shockwave from the air blast expanded in a ring, sending the debris at the edge of the arena flying.

The watching students covered their ears, staring in shock at this collision of superhuman power.

"Clack—"

A teeth-gritting sound of bone cracking rang out, and Wang Jinxi's massive body actually stumbled back three steps. He looked at his right claw in disbelief—those scales, as hard as refined steel, had developed fine cracks, and dark red beads of blood were seeping from the fissures.

"Your strength..."

Wang Jinxi's voice became hoarse and thick, his eyes flashing with uncertainty.

Situ Xuan flicked his wrist lightly and said indifferently, "The Martial Soul Fusion gave you power, but it cost you your judgment."

His gaze was like a blade. "True experts do not rely on size."

Before the words had even faded, Situ Xuan's figure suddenly vanished from where he stood.

Wang Jinxi instinctively spread his wings to protect his front, while his bony tail swept behind him like a whip.

But Situ Xuan had appeared in his blind spot—three inches under his right rib!

"Bang!"

A seemingly light palm strike landed on Wang Jinxi's ribs, yet it hit him like a lightning strike.

His massive body swayed twice before he fell to one knee, a trace of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.

"This is impossible..."

On the viewing platform, Ye Yingluo stood up, her face deathly pale. "How could he find the weak point of a fusion body?"

A flash of light crossed Wu Zhangkong's eyes as he looked at the three students beside him. "It's not a weak point; it's the rhythm." He whispered to himself, "Situ Xuan saw through the discrepancy in their breathing rhythm."

Long Xiuyuan stood among the class and explained, "Countless battles have allowed Situ Xuan to grasp the momentum of the entire fight the moment he enters it, keeping the rhythm firmly under his control."

On the arena, Situ Xuan's footsteps were like a ghost. With every step he took, a point of blue light lit up on his body. After seven steps, the seven points of blue light connected into the pattern of the Big Dipper.

"Seven Death Stars of the Big Dipper."

Situ Xuan's voice was soft, yet it made every scale on Wang Jinxi's body stand on end.

An instinctive fear swept through his entire body, as if he were prey being targeted by a predator.

He was going to die!

Getting hit would definitely mean death!

Fear drove Wang Jinxi to evade this frontal assault. He let out a wild roar, his wings fully unfurling as pitch-black feathers shot out like a torrential rain!

Dark Feather Thousand Assault!

Every single feather carried a piercing whistle as it tore through the air, sealing off all space in front, behind, and to the sides of Situ Xuan.

Yet, as if he had foreseen the future, Situ Xuan suddenly ducked the moment the feathers reached him, dodging the first wave of attacks by a hair's breadth before abruptly changing his stance.

North Star Muscle-Manipulating Free-Form Kick!

His right leg whipped out, his toe landing with pinpoint precision on the inner side of Wang Jinxi's left ankle.

This kick appeared gentle, yet it caused Wang Jinxi's entire left leg to suddenly lose all sensation, his massive frame losing its balance and toppling forward.

BOOM!

Wang Jinxi slammed heavily onto the arena floor, kicking up a cloud of dust. He tried to struggle to his feet, only to find that Situ Xuan had stepped onto his spinal joint at some point. That foot seemed to possess the weight of a thousand jun, pinning him down so he couldn't move.

"Give up."

Situ Xuan's voice was calm, without a ripple of emotion. "If you keep struggling, I might not be able to hold back any longer."

This was a lie, but Situ Xuan truly did not want to continue such a meaningless fight.

Wang Jinxi's eyes were bloodshot, and he still wanted to resist, but he heard the weak voice of Zhang Yangzi from within his body: "Jinxi... let's give up..."

"This was never a battle we could continue to fight."

As it turned out, at the core of the fusion, Zhang Yangzi's face was deathly pale, his soul power nearly exhausted.

"W-we concede..."

Wang Jinxi spat out these words with great difficulty, and the pitch-black scales on his body began to recede at a speed visible to the naked eye.

In the blink of an eye, the two figures separated once more. Zhang Yangzi fainted on the spot, and Wang Jinxi was trembling all over, lacking even the strength to stand up.

The entire arena was deathly silent. Everyone was so stunned by this overwhelming victory that they were left speechless.

A student who hadn't used a single soul skill had actually defeated an opponent in a martial soul fusion state single-handedly?

Long Hengxu walked onto the arena mechanically, his voice trembling slightly: "The winner... Grade One Class Three..."

Only then did the crowd erupt into deafening cheers.

Ye Yingluo slumped in her chair, her face ashen, while Ye Yingrong looked at her sister with concern, then glanced back at the figure in the center of the arena who stood like a god of war, a complex light flashing in her eyes.