(Bi Ji beauty image)
Lin Jiang stared at the ceiling, still thinking about his Second Martial Soul.
What would it be?
Something that complemented the Golden Dragon?
Or some kind of special type?
He closed his eyes and sensed the power taking shape within him.
It was still forming.
It seemed to need a little more time...
Yu Xiaogang closed his eyes and sensed the new power within him.
His Martial Soul Origin had changed.
It was no longer that fat pig that could only lie on the ground and fart.
He suddenly opened his eyes, clenched his fists, and shouted, "Martial Soul, Possession!"
A flash of light—
Luo Sanpao's features appeared on his own body.
His belly swelled, round as a watermelon.
His limbs grew short and thick, and his hands and feet each gained a ring of fat.
His face grew chubby too, his chin folding into three layers.
The most outrageous part was his backside—
His buttocks ballooned as if filled with air, growing big and round until his pants were stretched taut. They jiggled with every step.
He looked just like... a standing Luo Sanpao.
Yu Xiaogang looked at his new appearance in the mirror and fell silent for three seconds.
But soon he lifted his head again, his gaze firm.
"I can feel the power!"
He clenched his fists, feeling the warm current surging through him.
He really was many times stronger than before. He was no longer that Soul Grandmaster anyone could push around.
But...
He tried to sense his Soul Skills.
His first Soul Skill was still the same.
His second Soul Skill was the same too.
Yu Xiaogang's expression stiffened.
Did that mean that when he used his Soul Skills from now on, he'd have to...
Fart himself?
He pictured it—standing on the battlefield, sticking out his backside at the enemy—
"..."
Yu Xiaogang took a deep breath, forcing the image out of his mind.
He puffed out his chest and patted his round belly.
"It's fine! At least it's a good start!"
He gritted his teeth, his gaze burning.
"So what if I have to fart!"
"If I can become a god by farting, that's pretty good too!"
After a long while of reassuring himself, Yu Xiaogang finally remembered the cultivation manual.
He hurriedly pulled it from his Storage Soul Tool, held it reverently in both hands, and opened the cover.
Four gold-embossed characters were written on the cover—
Gangdong Three Farts.
Yu Xiaogang's eyes lit up.
"Gangdong Three Farts! What a great name!"
He nodded in satisfaction and turned to the first page.
Then his smile froze.
Eight large characters were written neatly, each stroke so forceful it seemed to pierce the page—
To practice this art, you must first castrate yourself.
Yu Xiaogang: "..."
The hands holding the book began to tremble.
His expression shifted from shock to hesitation, from hesitation to inner turmoil, and from inner turmoil to tragic resolve.
He slowly lifted his head and gazed at the moon outside the window.
Moonlight like water spilled over his round face.
"It seems..."
His voice was hoarse, carrying a hint of resolve.
"If I want to accomplish something great, I can only... give up certain things..."
He closed the manual and hugged it tightly to his chest.
The night wind blew past, and his round figure looked especially forlorn in the moonlight.
Yu Xiaogang stood by the window, holding the manual, silent for a long time.
The night wind poured through the window, making the candle flame flicker.
His round shadow fell on the wall, like a ball of dough that had been kneaded out of shape.
He remembered his childhood.
In the family ancestral hall, the elders had looked at the Martial Soul he awakened and sighed, shaking their heads.
The children his age had surrounded him and called him useless.
His father, Yu Yuanzhen, had looked at him first with hope, then disappointment, and finally indifference.
He remembered those years.
Alone in his room, poring over ancient texts and writing theories through the night that nobody would read.
When he published Ten Core Competencies of Martial Soul, the whole world had mocked him. "A useless man dares to talk about Martial Souls?" "Anyone can spout armchair theories!"
He remembered Tang San.
The disciple he had poured his heart into teaching had slapped him across the face when he wasn't satisfied with his Soul Ring.
The slap hadn't hurt much, but it had wounded him more than anything else.
He also remembered Bibi Dong. He remembered Liu Erlong.
He remembered all the people he had never been worthy of, all the things he could never reach.
Yu Xiaogang lowered his head and looked at his round belly and fat backside.
He didn't want to live like this anymore.
He gritted his teeth, his gaze gradually hardening.
"It's only castration, isn't it?"
His voice echoed through the empty room, trembling slightly, yet edged with resolve.
"Besides... apart from going to the toilet, I've never used that thing anyway."
He turned to the table and took a short knife from his Storage Soul Tool.
The blade glinted coldly in the candlelight, reflecting his flushed face.
Yu Xiaogang gripped the handle, his palm slick with sweat.
He took a deep breath, then another.
"In this life—"
He raised his head, looking through the window toward the distant, pitch-black sky.
"I'll fight for myself!"
His voice grew louder, as though he meant to roar out all the grievances, bitterness, and anger he had buried over the years.
"If I become a god—"
He clenched his teeth, his eyes reddening.
"Surely Dong'er and Erlong will come into my arms!"
As the words fell—
He closed his eyes and plunged the blade down hard!
"Aaaah—!!!"
A scream tore through the night sky.
A roar came from downstairs again. "Will you ever stop? Who's yelling like that in the middle of the night!"
Yu Xiaogang slumped to the floor, his face pale and his forehead slick with cold sweat.
The short knife clattered to the floor and rolled into the corner.
He glanced down, then quickly looked away.
Outside, the moon disappeared behind the clouds.
Yu Xiaogang leaned against the table leg, panting heavily.
Sweat soaked through his clothes, and his round belly rose and fell with every breath.
After a long while, he finally began to recover.
With trembling hands, he picked up the manual again and turned to the second page.
The words on it read—
"If you don't castrate yourself, you can still practice this art."
Yu Xiaogang froze.
He blinked and read it again.
"If you don't castrate yourself, you can still practice this art."
His face went from white to red, red to green, and green to purple.
"Then what did the first page mean—!!"
He leapt to his feet and hurled the manual to the floor. Then he picked it up and threw it down again.
After a few throws, he stopped.
He looked down at his now... empty crotch.
Then he looked at the eight characters on the manual.
Yu Xiaogang's mouth twitched a few times. Slowly, he crouched down, picked up the manual, and carefully brushed the dust off it.
He turned to the third page.
"The above content is entirely a joke. If you castrate yourself, we accept no responsibility."
Yu Xiaogang: "..."
He clutched the manual and crouched in the corner, saying nothing.
The candle flame flickered, casting deep shadows across his face.
A long while passed.
Yu Xiaogang slowly rose from the corner, his legs still trembling. He clung to the edge of the table to keep himself upright.
Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating his round face.
His lips quivered, and the tears in his eyes finally spilled over.
One drop.
Then another.
They streamed down in clusters.
"Damn this manual—!"
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