Wang Lin Reverses Karma

Zhu Zhuqing stood in the center of the training ground, arms crossed, cold as an iceberg.

Her gaze fell upon Wang Lin, sweeping from head to toe and back again, finally resting on that overly delicate face. Her eyes held no expression—no hostility, no contempt, not even curiosity.

To her, Wang Lin was merely an opponent; once the fight was over, it was finished. She was unlike the onlookers outside the ring, whispering and pointing, spouting nothing but the usual drivel: "Sissy," "prettier than a woman," "can someone like that even fight?"

Wang Lin stood with his hands behind his back, his white robes whiter than snow, his long hair drifting gently in the breeze.

Hearing those whispers, the corners of his mouth curled into a slight arc. It was not anger, nor helplessness, but a high-and-mighty, ant-surveying, almost pitying smile.

You do not know who you are discussing; you do not know what the title "This Seat" signifies.

This Seat is the invincible number one of the universe, capable of obliterating the heavens and the earth with a single glance. I can even create a son from a single drop of blood and then have him call me Father—tell me, is that not impressive?

It is fine to talk about it outside, but who wouldn't be desperate to call themselves Father?

Terrifying indeed.

Flender raised his hand: "Begin."

Zhu Zhuqing moved, her Hell Spirit Cat Martial Soul manifesting in an instant, her speed surging several times over.

Her figure left a trail of afterimages in the sunlight, and her true form appeared behind Wang Lin. Her sharp claws unsheathed, five cold glints slicing through the air, aimed straight for Wang Lin's throat.

Fast—so fast that most people on the sidelines saw only a black shadow flash by, unable to track her movements. Zhu Zhuqing was confident; even if this strike didn't win the match instantly, it would at least leave Wang Lin in a flustered mess.

The claws were an inch from his throat.

Zhu Zhuqing suddenly felt something was wrong. Her soul power fluctuated—not from overexertion, nor from a failure in circulation, but as if an invisible hand had lightly plucked at her insides.

Her claws, clearly aimed at his throat, inexplicably veered two inches off course, grazing past the top of Wang Lin's shoulder and cutting off only a few strands of hair.

Zhu Zhuqing landed, turned, and frowned. A coincidence? She did not believe in coincidences.

She moved again, faster than before. The Hell Spirit Cat's second soul skill—Hell Hundred Claws—dozens of claw shadows enveloped Wang Lin's entire body, sealing off all room for evasion. Wang Lin still did not move; he stood there, not even blinking.

Because he didn't need to. If things got truly difficult, he could just call out "This Seat, This Seat." He was not someone Han Li could compare to; he was the number one. Han Li was merely a mortal, while he was the Foundation Liquid War God.

The claw shadows fell, all missing their mark. It wasn't that Wang Lin had dodged; the shadows themselves had veered off course. Every single claw shadow, at the moment it was about to touch Wang Lin, would eerily deflect. Some slid past his side, some passed over his head, and some inexplicably veered off by half a foot.

On the sidelines, Yu Xiaogang's eyes widened like copper bells. His notebook was already open, his pen recording rapidly on the paper.

Is he absorbing Zhu Zhuqing's soul power? No, not absorbing, it is... He paused his pen, his brow furrowed into a knot. Causality reversal? Every one of Zhu Zhuqing's attacks is being distorted by some law of causality. She only feels the world spinning, as if controlled by something.

Flender stood beside Yu Xiaogang, arms crossed, his expression far graver than usual. Law of causality—this sort of thing should not appear in a one-ring soul master, nor should it appear in anyone at all.

"Wang Lin, what exactly is your Martial Soul?"

On the training ground, Zhu Zhuqing ceased her attack. She had unleashed her full strength for two rounds and hadn't even touched the hem of Wang Lin's clothes. She stood there, looking at him, fine beads of sweat on her forehead.

It was this eerie feeling that sent a chill down her spine. She had aimed clearly, she had used all her strength, so why couldn't she hit him? What kind of ghost was this? What was going on with this Wang Lin, and why was he so heaven-defying?

Wang Lin finally moved. His hand slowly rose from behind his back, his movements as elegant as a scholar wielding a brush. A point of gray light emerged from between his brows: the Heavenly Inverse Bead.

The gray-white bead rose slowly from his brow, hovering three inches in front of him. A vortex rotated within the bead, like a miniature black hole, devouring the surrounding light and heat. Gray-white light rippled outward in all directions.

Wang Lin opened his eyes, his gray-white pupils reflecting the light of the Heavenly Inverse Bead. "In front of This Seat, your attacks will never land." His voice was not loud, but every word struck the hearts of everyone present like a heavy hammer.

Zhu Zhuqing gritted her teeth and attacked again. This time, she gave it her all, pouring all her soul power into her claws, swearing to break through that bizarre deflection. The Heavenly Inverse Bead rotated, and the gray-white light flashed.

Zhu Zhuqing's sharp claws veered again, this time even more absurdly. Though aimed at Wang Lin's chest, they ended up stabbing at empty air beside him. Her body lurched forward from the momentum, nearly falling.

Wang Lin looked at the disheveled Zhu Zhuqing, expressionless. He lightly flicked his finger, and the Heavenly Inverse Bead flashed with black light—a rebound. Zhu Zhuqing suddenly felt a terrifying force surging from all directions. It was her own attack; all the claw shadows of the Hell Hundred Claws were rebounding toward her at the same time. Dozens of claw phantoms attacked her simultaneously.

Zhu Zhuqing's pupils shrank. She twisted her body forcefully, her claws dancing wildly to block the dozens of shadows one by one. The clanging of metal on metal was as dense as rain. Surrounded by claw shadows, she struggled to hold her ground.

When she blocked the final claw, her soul power was exhausted. Her legs went weak, and she knelt on the ground, gasping for air.

Wang Lin withdrew his finger, and the Heavenly Inverse Bead slowly faded into his brow. The gray-white light dissipated, and the training ground returned to its normal colors. He looked down at Zhu Zhuqing kneeling before him, his tone flat: "Admit defeat."

Zhu Zhuqing looked up at Wang Lin, her lips trembling with anger—anger at herself. She had lost, lost completely, without even touching the opponent once. After a long silence, she gritted her teeth and uttered the two words: "I admit defeat."

The entire arena was deathly silent. No one spoke, no one moved. Everyone looked at Wang Lin as if looking at something that did not belong to this world.

Dai Mubai's face was as pale as paper. His White Tiger Martial Soul had begun to stir uneasily the moment Wang Lin released the Heavenly Inverse Bead, as if encountering a natural predator. He turned to look at Tang San, whose face was even uglier than his own.

Yu Xiaogang's voice rang out in the hall, carrying a rare, irrepressible tremor: "This ability... it is too bizarre. A causality-law weapon. Theoretically, it cannot be defended against. It is not something you can dodge by being fast, nor something you can withstand by having high defense. The law of causality means the result is decided before the cause.

Why can you not hit him? It is not because Wang Lin dodged; it is because the result of 'you cannot hit him' has been determined. That is the most terrifying part."

Flender walked down from the viewing platform to stand before Wang Lin. He looked into Wang Lin's eyes, and Wang Lin looked back. In those gray-white pupils, there was no humility, no awe, not even any emotion.

"Wang Lin, what exactly is your Martial Soul?" Flender asked.

The corners of Wang Lin's mouth curled slightly. "This Seat has said, This Seat does not need a Martial Soul."

His voice was calm, but that calmness held more power than a roar. "This Seat, myself, is the most powerful."

Xiao Yan leaned against the wall, his face as ugly as if he had swallowed a fly. He recalled his earlier remark, "Tch, what's so great about him?" and suddenly felt that his mouth really should have been sewn shut.

Wang Lin's gaze shifted, landing on Xiao Yan's face. "Do you want to try?" A light, airy sentence.

Xiao Yan opened his mouth, wanting to say "Let's try then," wanting to say "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west," wanting to say something to save face.

But the words died in his throat. He saw the earnest look in Wang Lin's eyes; if he said "yes," Wang Lin would truly fight him.

Xiao Yan silently shut his mouth. He gritted his teeth, cursing himself a hundred times for his "loose lips," but he had to admit that the power of causality was not something he could handle at his current level.

Han Li stood in the furthest corner of the arena, having not said a single word from beginning to end.

His eyes remained fixed on the spot between Wang Lin's brows where the Heavenly Inverse Bead was concealed. His pupils contracted slightly; he judged this person to be extremely dangerous and concluded that he must keep his distance and avoid becoming his enemy.

Heavenly Inverse Bead... this object is not simple; it does not belong to this realm. If my guess is correct, it is just like my Heavenly Bottle, originating from a higher-level world.

Shi Hao darted out from behind Han Li like a cat that had just spotted a fresh toy.

His eyes shone like stars, and he hopped in place twice with excitement: "Wang Lin, I want to fight you!"

Wang Lin did not look at him.

"Did you hear me? I want to fight you!" Shi Hao hopped again.

Wang Lin finally turned his head and glanced at Shi Hao. Those grey-white eyes lingered on Shi Hao's face for a second before shifting away. "This Seat refuses."

Shi Hao froze, the excitement on his face turning into confusion: "Why?"

"Because you are too insane, and This Seat does not wish to be tainted by madness." After saying this, Wang Lin turned and walked away, his white robes swaying gently in the breeze, his pace as calm as if he were strolling through his own backyard.

Shi Hao stood where he was, mouth agape, eyes wide, his expression shifting from confusion to grievance. I'm insane? Where am I insane? I just wanted to have a fight!

Tang San stood in the furthest corner of the training ground, having watched the entire process between Wang Lin and Zhu Zhuqing, from Zhu Zhuqing's attack to the deflection, the rebound, and finally Zhu Zhuqing kneeling to concede.

He watched more intently than anyone and remembered it more clearly than anyone, because he wanted to know exactly how vast the gap between him and Wang Lin truly was.

After watching, he knew: it was not ten times, not a hundred times; they were simply not in the same dimension.

Han Li's formations could at least be broken with brute force; Xiao Yan's Exotic Flame could at least be countered with water-type techniques; Shi Hao's physical body could at least be suppressed with speed. But Wang Lin's causality... how does one break that? You cannot even touch him, so how could you possibly break it?

He returned to his dormitory, took off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, and pulled the quilt over his head, curling into a ball. It was dark and quiet inside the quilt, so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat.

When Xiao Wu pushed the door open, this was the scene she saw: Third Brother was curled up in a lump under the quilt like a hibernating bear.

"Third Brother? Why are you crying again?" Xiao Wu walked over and pulled back the quilt. Tang San's face was revealed, his eye sockets red, his nose red, and his face still streaked with undried tears.

"I am weak!" Tang San's voice was muffled.

Watching Tang San in this state, Xiao Wu felt both heartache and amusement. She crouched down and reached out to wipe the tear stains from his face, her tone as gentle as if she were coaxing a child: "It's not like you've only been weak for a day or two."

Tang San's tears welled up again. He suddenly sat up, grabbed Xiao Wu in a hug, and buried his face in her shoulder. "Resurrect, My Love," his voice was loud and resonant, echoing off the dormitory walls.

Xiao Wu was pinned in his embrace, her shoulder smeared with tears and snot. She looked up at the ceiling and sighed, her tone filled with helplessness: "Third Brother, I am right in front of you; why are you trying to resurrect me..."

Tang San buried his face deeper, Resurrect, My Love, Resurrect, My Love, Resurrect, My Love.

He recited it three times in his heart, not daring to say it aloud for fear that Xiao Wu would slap him again. But he really wanted to shout it; he didn't know why, but every time he was beaten to a pulp by those four people, every time he felt like a piece of trash, shouting these six words made him feel a little better.

As the night deepened, the lights in most rooms of the Shrek Academy dormitory building went out, save for the four-person dorm where the lights remained on. Xiao Yan was cultivating his Exotic Flame, Shi Hao was doing push-ups, and Han Li was meditating.

Wang Lin sat on the windowsill, moonlight illuminating his pale face as the Heavenly Inverse Bead slowly rotated between his brows. He looked at the sleeping academy outside the window, the corners of his mouth curling into a meaningful arc. This Seat does not need a martial soul; This Seat, himself, is the most powerful.

He had said these words today, and everyone had heard them. No one refuted him because they could not, but what they did not know was that Wang Lin's power was far beyond what he had displayed today.

Today, Wang Lin had not even used ten percent of his strength—not because he didn't want to, but because he could not; the suppression of this world's laws was too strong.

But it did not matter. Wang Lin closed his eyes. This Seat has plenty of time; the path of causality is not something achieved in a single day.

He had already seen several key threads of causality in this world. One of them was connected to a place called "Martial Soul Hall." The thread was so thick it was chilling, tied to tens of thousands of lives, tied to blood and fire, life and death, sin and punishment.

The corners of Wang Lin's mouth curled into a cold arc. Such a grand causality; This Seat is very interested.

If he could deal with this thread of causality, he would be the primary incarnation. Perhaps in this world, he could even use a drop of his own blood to manifest his younger self, then call himself "Father"—that would at least provide some amusement here.

"This Seat remains invincible under the heavens. If not for the influence of this world, I would have long ago used a single glance of the Ultimate Realm to instantly obliterate the heavens, the earth, and the very air."