Bet Right? Bet Wrong!

Fierce winds howled across the tower's summit. Broken bricks and tiles whirled through the sky, and the currents of air throughout the heavens and earth were torn into chaos by two overwhelming powers.

Qiangu Dongfeng's arms throbbed with surging blood. Blood kept seeping from the numbed webs of his hands, and the Coiling Dragon Staff gripped in his palms trembled faintly. He stared at Zhong Shenxiu, who stood rooted in place without moving an inch, while disbelief and frenzied obsession roiled inside him.

He had lived on the Douluo Continent for centuries, presiding over the Spirit Pagoda and watching generation after generation of prodigies rise and fall. Never had he seen strength that so defied reason. A level-seventy-one Soul Saint had met a level-ninety-nine Demigod Limit Douluo head-on, taken a full-force strike from the Coiling Dragon Staff with his bare body, and neither retreated half a step nor suffered the slightest injury.

If such power was normal for the boy, the entire order of the Douluo Continent would be overturned.

Shrek's ten-thousand-year legacy, the Spirit Pagoda's thousand years of prestige, and the great sects' generations of inheritance would all become jokes.

The Soul Power realms people had spent their lives striving for, Soul Ring configurations, and Battle Armor enhancements were as good as worthless before this boy.

If this was Zhong Shenxiu's true strength, every major power on the continent had only one path left: bow its head and surrender. None had the slightest chance of resisting.

Qiangu Dongfeng clenched his teeth. One last desperate wager remained in his bloodshot eyes. He didn't believe it. He refused to believe it.

No burst of power beyond one's level could last forever. Power that transcended the laws of this plane had to be a brief eruption bought by overexertion.

He only had