The collision of fist and claw erupted with a deafening roar.
Then, as if a miniature sun had detonated between them, it instantly collapsed inward.
A ring-shaped shockwave of pure white spread outward. Everywhere it passed, the ground was plowed into a circular trench several meters deep. Sand and stone melted under the intense heat, then solidified during the sudden cooling into black, obsidian-like crystals.
Then, Zheng Zha's replica flew backward like a cannonball struck head-on by a battering ram.
He carved a pitch-black trail through the air, and everything along the way was ignited by the black flames spilling from his body.
He smashed through a small hill without losing momentum, then crashed through seven or eight rows of enormous trees before finally embedding himself deep into a hundred-meter-high cliff face. Shattered rocks rained down in a steady patter.
"Woohoo~"
Zheng Zha shook his hand and looked at the clump of black flame still burning on his knuckles, clinging to him like a festering parasite. His brow rose slightly. "Interesting. As expected of my replica."
The flames carried an eerie vitality as they licked at his skin with a sizzling sound, as though gnawing at flesh—or devouring the soul.
"Be careful! That flame will—"
In the distance, the blue-robed Daoist who had just steadied himself changed expression and hurriedly tried to warn him.
But before he could finish, his voice caught in his throat.
Because he saw Zheng Zha merely lower his head for a glance. Then, the patch of flesh engulfed in black flames, already charred and carbonized, peeled away and weathered on its own like a dried clump of mud, turning into the most insignificant dust in midair.
Immediately afterward, fresh flesh grew from the wound at a speed visible to the naked eye. Pink muscle fibers