"Your nose?"
Huang Zhongxiao instinctively touched his nose, not understanding what that meant. Chen Nuanyu, cold as ice, merely twitched the corner of her mouth again.
Though he did not understand the meaning,
Huang Zhongxiao still knew that this youth was mocking him.
His gaze turned cold.
"Arrogant."
The young man retreated seven steps. Every step was strange, crooked and skewed, as though he were following some rhythm. Then he formed the Zi Wu Jue with both hands.
"I beseech the venerable one to descend with divine power, perceive spirits and drive the gods—by law and decree, make haste!"
A talisman floated up from between his fingers and burned to ash.
The shadows on both sides writhed.
Then, beneath Zhang Fusheng's intrigued gaze, faceless shadow figures rose one after another.
Eighteen of them.
"Subordinate Souls?" Zhang Fusheng murmured inwardly. He saw through the trick again. It followed the same tune as the last one—power borrowed by this cultist.
Previously, it had been borrowed Spiritual Power capable of interfering with reality. This time, it was Subordinate Souls from a divine realm.
As for which divine realm they came from, and whose it was—
Zhang Fusheng could not see through it. He only knew that it came from somewhere far away.
This was some kind of "advanced application" of a divine realm. Yet there was no doubt that the realm's master was extraordinarily powerful.
"Kill him." Huang Zhongxiao spoke calmly, placing his hands behind his back once more and standing immovable, with the air of wind rustling bleakly around a hero.
The eighteen shadow figures let out soundless howls, stepping through the shadows as they abruptly closed in!
"Every one of them is at the Third Refinement level."
Zhang Fusheng frowned. With a flick of his hand, he unleashed a gust from his fist that swept up dust and shaped it into a roaring tiger's head. His sinews and bones rang in unison, then exploded with another clap of spring thunder!
"Rumble!"
Several shadow figures shattered into pieces.
He moved freely through the shadow figures. His Tiger Roar Fist at Perfection was enough to let him run rampant among Third Refinement fighters. As tiger heads burst one after another, the shadow figures exploded along with them!
Thirty-nine seconds later, every shadow figure had been destroyed.
"Clap! Clap! Clap!"
Huang Zhongxiao smiled and applauded.
"A fist technique approaching the level of intent. No wonder you're so confident. But you're only at the Third Refinement in the end."
He moved his body. His skin stretched, his muscles bulged high and rolled beneath it, producing a faint rumble.
Flesh Third Refinement.
"Sixth Refinement against Third Refinement—the advantage is mine." Huang Zhongxiao strolled forward with a smile. When he neared that scholarly-looking youth—
"Rip!"
The frail youth suddenly seemed to be crazily inflated by an invisible pump. His bones gave off teeth-grinding cracks.
His muscles and skin swelled and stretched at a visible rate!
Huang Zhongxiao fell silent.
That body expanded, blocking out the moonlight and casting a shadow over him. The shadow gradually spread.
Then the expansion stopped.
A bizarrely burly little giant, three or four meters tall and seemingly piled together from swollen flesh and blood, stood where the youth had been.
Tattered strips of cloth hung from his body. Through his bluish-green skin, huge blood vessels twisted like massive tree branches could be seen beneath it!!
"Phew."
The giant gently exhaled. Green, rotten-smelling foul air struck Huang Zhongxiao's pale face and slowly dispersed.
Third Form Spirit, Giant Contemplation.
Chen Nuanyu could not help swallowing. Looking at the youth's severely distorted face, warped by swelling and stretching, and those hollow, violent eyes devoid of any living color—
She retreated two steps, her heart hammering wildly.
For a moment, Chen Nuanyu could not tell who the real "cultist" was.
"Uh, brother." Huang Zhongxiao tugged at the corner of his mouth, forcing out a smile uglier than crying.
"There may have been some misunderstanding between us."
Slime dripped from Zhang Fusheng's body. Feeling the surging force inside him triple to a full 9,600 pounds, he slammed his fists together with a muffled bang.
"A misunderstanding?"
Looking down at the tiny cultist, Zhang Fusheng grinned. His heavy breathing was like the howl of a broken bellows, making his entire body tremble.
"I don't think there's been any misunderstanding at all."
His foot left the ground, leaving behind a deep footprint streaked with wet, sticky traces.
Then he kicked!
"Rumble!"
With a violent sonic boom, a tiny figure shot away like a cannonball, plowing a long trench through the ground!
Huang Zhongxiao gasped and climbed from the rubble. He was a Sixth Refinement martial artist, and his own strength had reached around 9,000 pounds, so he was not seriously injured.
But the problem was that this "little giant" also possessed a fist technique nearing the level of intent!
"Heh, we'll meet again." Huang Zhongxiao tore open another invisibility talisman. His figure suddenly blurred and vanished into thin air.
Holding his breath, he crept quietly, intending to sneak out of this dead-end alley.
As he passed by the giant—
Huang Zhongxiao could not help glancing sideways. He saw the giant dark, enormous blood vessels and heard the dull sound of gas being squeezed within his body.
What the fuck even is this thing??
Who the hell is the cultist here?!
No, I'm the cultist—but bro, you look a little like an Evil God!
Cursing inwardly, he looked up at those hollow, lifeless pale eyes fixed on him and prepared to keep slipping away.
Wait.
They're fixed on me?
The moonlight dimmed.
Huang Zhongxiao raised his head in terror and saw a palm as large as a cattail fan, crashing down with a violently fishy stench!
He was swatted away like a fly, smashing into the wall and becoming embedded in it!
"Cough!"
Caught completely off guard, he was genuinely hurt this time. He coughed blood as his reappearing body struggled free from the wall.
Huang Zhongxiao knelt on one knee, staring fixedly at the terrifying rotten giant as he panted heavily.
"You... you can see me??"
"I've been able to see you the whole time." The giant chuckled happily, his smile blooming across his twisted, rotten face in a sight both bizarre and horrifying.
Zhang Fusheng walked toward Huang Zhongxiao step by step. The rotten, fishy wind pressed down with a mournful howl. The cultist rolled away like a donkey and sprang upright, shouting:
"Wait!"
Zhang Fusheng stared at him with interest.
"What is it? Do you still have some strange little trick?"
He flexed his body. Pale-green fishy vapor visibly evaporated from beneath his skin, twisting into a tiger's head even larger than his body as it rose and fell behind him.
The cultist swallowed, cupped his hands, formed a Zi Wu Jue, then turned his hands outward.
He held up a photograph.
It was a group photo of himself and three elderly men.
In the photo, two old men sat upright, while another old man stood beside the young man.
Huang Zhongxiao pointed to the long-bearded old man standing beside him in the picture.
"I am Huang Zhongxiao. My master is Huang Haotian. May I ask who you are, brother?"
Zhang Fusheng nearly choked on his breath.
What kind of move is pulling out a photo?
Oh, using his backing to pressure me?
Zhang Fusheng looked at the photograph and gave a soft sound of surprise.
Wasn't Huang Haotian, the master Huang Zhongxiao had mentioned, that Twelve Refinements grand 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 ran in the same vein. Huang Zhongxiao acted with extreme caution. Though he could not compare to his master, who had endured over a hundred Federation sieges and still remained carefree and at ease—
He was nevertheless the sort to naturally "shield everyone behind him."
Thus, he also had a detailed understanding of the people in Jiangzhou who could not be provoked.
A smile uglier than crying appeared on his face.
"Brother Zhang, I truly did not know that you were Old Master Hong's disciple. This is really—"
Huang Zhongxiao suddenly stopped, as though he had remembered something. He froze.
Zhang Fusheng sharply caught that reaction and grinned.
"What is it? Did you think of something? Because of Hong Tianbao, or because of the name Zhang Fusheng?"
Huang Zhongxiao's expression changed dramatically. Looking at the approaching giant and hearing the dull rolling thunder of his steps, he shouted:
"Brother Zhang, someone in Hong's wants to kill you!"
Zhang Fusheng knocked him unconscious with one punch, then lifted Huang Zhongxiao's body and weighed it in his hand.
"Nonsense. Did you think I needed you to tell me that?"
His body gradually returned to normal.
Lowering his head and looking at his perfect physique, Zhang Fusheng sighed.
"Didn't they say getting bigger wouldn't tear your clothes? Television really is all lies."
He stood naked in the alley. His sinews and bones shook with thunderous force, blasting away the tattered cloth strips and rotten slime on his body.
"Go buy me a set of clothes. Hurry up, or it'll be past nine by the time we get home."
Only then did Chen Nuanyu come back to her senses. She silently glanced at the youth's body before turning and walking out of the alley.
Zhang Fusheng finally turned his gaze to the unconscious Huang Zhongxiao.
This thing could probably yield quite a lot of intelligence.
How should he deal with him?
After pondering for a moment, he made a call to Ping'an Hotel in Longzhou City.
Ping'an Hotel was one of Hong's main businesses, managed by Eldest Senior Brother. Zhang Fusheng now held one-third of its management rights as well.
Before you continue