Luo Sanpao Possesses! Yu Xiaogang Castrates Himself!

(Beautiful image of Bi Ji)

Lin Jiang stared at the ceiling, his mind still occupied by thoughts of his second martial soul.

What could it be?

Something complementary to the Golden Dragon King?

Or perhaps some special type?

He closed his eyes, sensing the power currently coalescing within his body.

It was still taking shape.

It seemed to require a little time...

Yu Xiaogang closed his eyes, sensing the brand-new power within his body.

His martial soul origin had changed.

It was no longer that fat pig that could only fart while lying on the ground.

He snapped his eyes open, clenched his fists, and let out a loud shout.

"Martial Soul, Avatar!"

A flash of light swept by—

The characteristics of Luo Sanpao appeared on his own body.

His belly swelled up, round and bulging, as if he had stuffed a watermelon inside.

His limbs became thick and short, and his palms and soles grew a size fatter.

His face became chubby as well, with three layers of chins.

The most exaggerated part was his backside—

His buttocks expanded as if they had been inflated, large and round, stretching his pants until they were taut, trembling with every step he took.

The whole person looked just like... a standing Luo Sanpao.

Yu Xiaogang looked at his own appearance in the mirror and remained silent for three seconds.

But he soon lifted his head again, his eyes resolute.

"I can feel the power!"

He clenched his fists, feeling the hot current surging within his body.

Indeed, it was countless times stronger than before. He was no longer that Soul Grand Master who could be kneaded by anyone.

However...

He tried to sense his soul skills.

His first soul skill was still the same.

His second soul skill was also the same.

Yu Xiaogang's expression stiffened slightly.

Doesn't that mean that in the future, to release a soul skill, he would have to...

Fart himself?

He imagined the scene—standing on the battlefield, sticking his butt out, facing the enemy—

"..."

Yu Xiaogang took a deep breath, forcibly driving that image out of his mind.

He puffed out his chest and patted his round, bulging belly.

"It doesn't matter! At least it's a good start!"

He gritted his teeth, his gaze burning.

"So what if I have to fart!"

"Becoming a god by farting is also pretty good!"

Yu Xiaogang consoled himself for a good while before finally remembering that cultivation manual.

He hurriedly pulled it out from his storage ring, held it with both hands, and reverently flipped open the cover.

Four gold-stamped characters were written on the cover—

Gangdong Three Farts.

Yu Xiaogang's eyes lit up.

"Gangdong Three Farts! What a good name!"

He nodded in satisfaction and turned to the first page.

Then, his smile froze on his face.

Eight large characters, written neatly and with enough force to pierce through the paper—

To master this art, one must first castrate oneself.

Yu Xiaogang: "..."

The hands holding the book began to tremble.

The expression on his face shifted from shock to hesitation, from hesitation to struggle, and from struggle to tragic resolve.

He slowly raised his head, gazing at the moon outside the window.

The moonlight, like water, spilled over his round, chubby face.

"It seems..."

His voice was hoarse, carrying a hint of finality.

"To achieve great things, I must... sacrifice something."

He closed the manual and hugged it tightly to his chest.

The night breeze blew past, and his round figure appeared exceptionally desolate under the moonlight.

Yu Xiaogang stood before the window, clutching the manual, silent for a long time.

The night wind poured in from outside, causing the candlelight to flicker and dim.

His round shadow cast upon the wall looked like a crumpled ball of dough.

He thought of his childhood.

In the family ancestral hall, the elders watched him awaken his Martial Soul and shook their heads with sighs.

Children of his age surrounded him, calling him trash.

The way his father, Yu Yuanzhen, looked at him changed from expectation to disappointment, and from disappointment to indifference.

He thought of those years.

Alone in his room, flipping through ancient texts, writing theories that no one read until dawn.

When he published the Ten Core Competencies of Martial Soul, the whole world was filled with mockery—"Does a piece of trash deserve to talk about Martial Souls?" "Who can't talk big on paper?"

He thought of Tang San.

That disciple he had poured his heart and soul into teaching, who had slapped him across the face when he was dissatisfied with the absorption of a spirit ring.

That slap, though not physically painful, hurt him more than anything else ever had.

He also thought of Bibi Dong. He thought of Liu Erlong.

He thought of those people he was unworthy of, those things he could never reach.

Yu Xiaogang lowered his head, looking at his own round belly and fat buttocks.

He did not want to live this kind of life anymore.

He gritted his teeth, his gaze gradually becoming firm.

"Isn't it just castration?"

His voice echoed in the empty room, carrying a hint of trembling, yet also a hint of determination.

"Anyway... other than for using the bathroom, I've never even used that thing."

He turned and walked to the table, rummaging through his Soul Tool for a short blade.

The blade glinted coldly under the candlelight, reflecting his flushed face.

Yu Xiaogang gripped the hilt, his palms slick with sweat.

He took a deep breath, then another.

"A man lives in this world—"

He raised his head, his gaze piercing through the window toward the dark night sky in the distance.

"I must fight for myself!"

His voice grew louder, as if he were trying to roar out all the grievances, all the unwillingness, and all the anger of these past years.

"If I become a god—"

He clenched his teeth, his eyes rimmed with red.

"Surely Dong'er and Erlong will both come into my embrace!"

As the words fell—

He closed his eyes and stabbed down fiercely!

"Ah—!!!"

A scream pierced the night sky.

From downstairs came another roar: "Are you finished yet! What are you howling about in the middle of the night!"

Yu Xiaogang collapsed onto the floor, his face pale, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

The short blade hit the floor with a "clatter" and rolled into the corner.

He glanced down at it, then quickly turned his head away.

Outside the window, the moon hid itself behind the clouds.

Yu Xiaogang leaned against the table leg, gasping for air.

Sweat soaked through his clothes, his round belly rising and falling with every breath.

It took a long time for him to finally recover.

With trembling hands, he picked up the cultivation manual again and flipped to the second page.

There, it was written—

"One need not castrate oneself to practice this technique."

Yu Xiaogang froze.

He blinked, then read it again.

"One need not castrate oneself to practice this technique."

His complexion shifted from white to red, from red to green, and from green to purple.

"Then what was the meaning of what was written on the first page—!!"

He stood up abruptly, slammed the manual onto the floor, picked it up, and slammed it down again.

After a few slams, he stopped.

He looked down at his own... empty crotch.

Then he looked back at those eight characters in the manual.

The corners of Yu Xiaogang's mouth twitched a few times before he slowly squatted down, picked up the manual, and carefully wiped the dust off it.

He flipped to the third page.

"The above content is purely a joke; should you have castrated yourself, we take no responsibility."

Yu Xiaogang: "..."

He clutched the manual, huddled in the corner, and said nothing.

The candlelight flickered, casting deep shadows across his face.

A long time passed.

Yu Xiaogang slowly stood up from the corner, his legs still shaking, and only managed to steady himself by gripping the edge of the table.

Moonlight spilled in through the window, illuminating his round face.

His lips trembled, and the tears in his eyes could no longer be held back.

One drop.

Two drops.

They fell in a steady stream.

"Damn this manual—!"