Bark.

Mu Ye stepped out of Little Red.

The mecha's back opened, and a dark golden figure rose from within. The Four-Word Battle Armor "Body" covered Mu Ye, its dark golden plates gleaming with a heavy luster beneath the sunlight. The dragon-pattern reliefs on the armor seemed alive, subtly writhing with his breathing.

He stood atop Little Red's shoulder, looking down at the white-haired elder.

Ninety-seventh-rank Soul Power surged from his body, intertwining with the roar of the mecha's power core to form a pressure that made scalps tingle. Beneath his feet, nine soul rings slowly revolved—five black and four red. The black was as deep as the Abyss, while the red blazed like magma.

"Bring out whoever among you can fight."

Mu Ye's voice was not loud, but every word seemed to have been ground out from his throat. "Don't send these pieces of trash to make up the numbers."

The white-haired elder's face flushed red, veins bulging across his forehead. His fists clenched with cracking sounds, and the muscles in his cheeks bunched up.

Five Title Douluo had not even lasted three seconds against Mu Ye.

Such a gap in strength could no longer be bridged by numbers.

Just then, laughter drifted out from deep within the hall.

The laughter was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear, as though it were ringing right beside their ears. There was something deeply uncomfortable in that voice, like someone scratching the soles of your feet with a feather—ticklish, yet nauseatingly so.

"Body Sect Master, what imposing prestige."

Before the words had faded, a figure walked out from the ruins of the hall.

Extremely obese, with a belly like a drum and a short, stocky build, he wore a smile all year round. He was smiling now as well, but the smile