Rotting Giant

"Your nose?"

Huang Zhongxiao subconsciously touched his nose, not understanding what was meant. Chen Nuanyu, however, gave another twitch of her lips.

Even though he didn't understand the meaning, Huang Zhongxiao knew the young man was mocking him.

His eyes turned cold:

"Arrogant."

The youth retreated seven steps, each step appearing bizarre and unsteady, as if he were stepping to some rhythm. Then, he clasped his hands in the Zi Wu Jue.

"I beseech the Venerable One to descend divine power, to open the unseen and expel spirits, with utmost urgency!"

A talisman floated from his fingers and turned to ash.

The shadows on both sides writhed.

Then, under Zhang Fusheng's intrigued gaze, figures without faces stood up from the darkness.

Eighteen of them.

"Subordinate Souls?" Zhang Fusheng mused to himself, seeing through this trick once again. It was the same as before, both instances being borrowed power from this evil cultist.

Previously, it was borrowed spiritual power that could interfere with reality; this time, it was 'Subordinate Souls' from the Spiritual Realm.

As for where this Spiritual Realm was, or who it belonged to?

Zhang Fusheng couldn't discern it. He only knew that it was far away.

This was some 'high-level usage' of the Spiritual Realm, but there was no doubt that the owner of the Spiritual Realm was extremely powerful.

"Kill him," Huang Zhongxiao said indifferently. He clasped his hands behind his back again, standing still, exuding an air of desolate heroism.

The eighteen shadowy figures let out silent roars and charged through the shadows, closing in rapidly!

"Each of them is at the Third Refinement level."

Zhang Fusheng frowned. He flicked his wrist, sending out a gust of wind that stirred up dust, forming a roaring tiger's head. His bones and muscles resonated, and then a sound like spring thunder exploded!

"Rumble!"

Several shadowy figures were torn to shreds.

He moved with practiced ease among the shadowy figures. His perfected Tiger Roar Fist was enough to allow him to rampage among those at the Third Refinement level. With each exploding tiger head, another shadowy figure was also blown apart!

Thirty-nine seconds later, the shadowy figures were all destroyed.

"Clap! Clap! Clap!"

Huang Zhongxiao applauded with a smile.

"A fist technique approaching the 'Intent' level. No wonder you're so confident, but you're still only at the Third Refinement."

He stretched his body. His skin pulled taut, and his muscles bulged beneath, rolling under his skin with a faint rumbling sound.

Flesh Third Refinement.

"A Sixth Refinement against a Third Refinement. The advantage is mine." Huang Zhongxiao strode forward with a smile. As he approached the frail-looking young man.

"Riiip!"

The frail-looking young man suddenly inflated like he was being filled by an invisible pump. His bones made a sickening creaking sound.

His muscles and skin expanded and stretched at a visible rate!

Huang Zhongxiao fell silent.

The figure swelled, blocking out the moonlight and casting a shadow over him. The shadow gradually expanded.

The expansion gradually stopped.

An unusually burly and stout figure, three to four meters tall, as if piled up from swollen flesh, appeared in its place.

Tattered rags hung from its body. Through its greenish skin, one could see blood vessels as gnarled as giant tree branches!

"Hoo..."

The giant exhaled lightly. The foul, greenish miasma hit Huang Zhongxiao's pale face and slowly dissipated.

Third Form Spirit, Giant Contemplation.

Chen Nuanyu couldn't help but swallow. She looked at the young man's severely deformed face, distorted by the swelling and stretching, and his hollow, ferocious eyes, devoid of any sign of life.

She took two steps back, her heart pounding violently.

For a moment, Chen Nuanyu couldn't tell who the 'evil cultist' was.

"Uh, my good sir." Huang Zhongxiao pulled at the corner of his mouth, forcing a smile that was uglier than a cry.

"There might be some misunderstanding between us."

Mucus dripped from Zhang Fusheng's body. Feeling the surging power within him, which had tripled to a staggering ninety-six hundred jin, he clapped his fists together, producing a muffled 'bang'.

"Misunderstanding?"

Looking down at the tiny evil cultist, Zhang Fusheng grinned. His heavy breaths roared like a broken bellows, causing his entire body to tremble.

"I don't think there's any misunderstanding,"

His feet left the ground, leaving deep, damp footprints behind.

Then, WHAM!

"RUMBLE!"

Accompanied by a violent air explosion, a tiny figure shot out like a cannonball, plowing a long trench in the ground!

Huang Zhongxiao gasped for breath, pushing himself up from the rubble. He was a Sixth Refinement martial artist, and his own strength reached nine thousand jin, so he wasn't seriously injured.

But the problem was this 'little giant' and his fist techniques that reached the level of intent!

"Heh, we'll meet again." Huang Zhongxiao tore off another invisibility talisman, his figure blurring, disappearing into thin air.

He held his breath, tiptoeing, wanting to sneak out of this dead-end alley.

As he passed by the giant, Huang Zhongxiao couldn't help but glance sideways, seeing the dark, massive blood vessels on the giant's body and hearing the muffled sound of gas being compressed within it.

What the hell is this thing?!

Who is the cultist here, anyway!

No, I'm the cultist, but buddy, you look a bit like an Evil God!

He cursed inwardly, his gaze moving upward to the pair of hollow, lifeless, pale eyes staring at him, and he prepared to slip away again.

Wait a minute.

Staring at him?

The moonlight dimmed.

Huang Zhongxiao looked up in terror, seeing a palm as big as a flapper pressing down with a foul stench!

He was swatted away like a fly, crashing into the wall and embedding himself in it!

"Cough..."

Caught completely off guard, this time he was truly injured. He coughed up blood, his reappearing figure struggling to break free from the wall.

Huang Zhongxiao knelt on the ground, staring intently at the terrifying, rotten giant, gasping for breath.

"You, you can see me??"

"I always could," the giant chuckled happily, his smile twisting on his distorted, rotting face, looking bizarre and horrifying.

Zhang Fusheng walked towards Huang Zhongxiao step by step, the stench of decay pressing down. The cultist scrambled backward like a rolling donkey, stood up straight, and roared:

"Wait!"

Zhang Fusheng gazed at him with amusement:

"What's wrong? Got any more strange tricks?"

He stretched his body, and visible pale green, foul-smelling Qi evaporated from under his skin, twisting into a tiger's head larger than his own body, floating behind him.

The cultist swallowed and cupped his hands, performing a Zi Wu Jue, then flipped his hands outward.

He held up a photograph.

It was a photo of him with three elders.

In the photo, two old men sat, and another old man stood side-by-side with a young man.

Huang Zhongxiao pointed to the long-bearded old man standing next to him in the photo:

"I am Huang Zhongxiao, and my master is Huang Haotian. May I ask who you are, brother?"

Zhang Fusheng almost choked.

What kind of move was pulling out a photo?

Oh, using his background to pressure him?

Zhang Fusheng glanced at the photo and gasped.

In the photo, Huang Haotian, the master Huang Zhongxiao mentioned, was the Twelve Refinements great martial artist from Ankang Hospital that day!

He grinned, letting out a hoarse, muffled laugh:

"Zhang Fusheng, my master is Hong Tianbao."

Huang Zhongxiao's hand trembled:

"Hong Tianbao!!"

Perhaps it was inherited, but Huang Zhongxiao acted with extreme caution. Although he couldn't compare to his master, who had eluded federal encirclement hundreds of times with ease, he was the type to naturally 'shield everyone around him.'

Therefore, he naturally had a detailed understanding of the 'unprovokable figures' in Jiangzhou.

A smile that looked uglier than a cry appeared on his face:

"Brother Zhang, I truly didn't know you were Old Master Hong's disciple. It's truly..."

Huang Zhongxiao suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and froze.

Zhang Fusheng keenly caught this and grinned:

"What's wrong? Did you remember something? Because of Hong Tianbao, or because of the name Zhang Fusheng?"

Huang Zhongxiao's expression changed drastically. Looking at the giant walking closer step by step, he heard the dull rumbling and shouted loudly:

"Brother Zhang, someone in Hong's wants to kill you!"

Zhang Fusheng punched him unconscious, then lifted Huang Zhongxiao's body and weighed it:

"Nonsense, you don't need to tell me?"

His body gradually returned to normal.

Looking down at his perfect physique, Zhang Fusheng sighed:

"They promised I'd get bigger without ripping my clothes? TV shows are really all lies."

He stood naked in the alley, his bones vibrating with thunderous sounds, shaking off the tattered rags and rotten slime on his body.

"Go buy me a set of clothes. Hurry, or I won't be home until after nine."

Chen Nuanyu only then snapped back to reality. She glanced silently at the young man's body and turned to walk out of the alley.

Only then did Zhang Fusheng turn his gaze to the unconscious Huang Zhongxiao.

There was a lot of information he could get from this thing.

How should he handle it?

After pondering for a moment, he made a call to the Ping'an Hotel in Longzhou City.

Ping'an Hotel was one of Hong's main businesses, managed by the Eldest Senior Brother. Zhang Fusheng now also held one-third of the management rights.