He was thirteen years old, and this was the first time anyone had humiliated him with a fart. What kind of disgusting Martial Soul was this?
Yu Xiaogang stood not far away, a smug smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
His first Soul Skill wasn't very powerful, but the stench was his trump card.
It was also the only part of it that could do any damage.
The stench left his opponents dizzy and disoriented, reducing their fighting strength by at least thirty percent.
That trick had never failed him.
But today, he'd met someone different.
Luo Yun was very unhappy.
His left hand curled into a loose fist, and the Sun Corona Sword appeared in his palm.
Golden-green light flowed along the blade, radiating a warm, sacred aura.
He didn't release his Soul Rings or put much strength into it.
He simply held the sword in front of him and gave it a casual swing.
A streak of golden-green sword energy shot from the blade, soundless and as fast as lightning.
Luo Sanpao was tumbling through the air, preparing to fire a second shot.
The sword energy cut straight through its body.
Luo Sanpao split cleanly in two.
The halves fell from the air and dissolved into purple specks of light.
The sound of a Martial Soul shattering was faint.
Yu Xiaogang's pupils contracted sharply.
His mouth hung open. Before he could say a word, blood surged up his throat.
"Puh—" He spat blood onto the table, staining the teapot and coarse porcelain bowl red.
His body swayed. He braced both hands on the table and stayed upright.
But his face was white as paper, the veins bulging on his forehead. His eyes were wide enough to pop from their sockets.
"You!"
When a Martial Soul shattered,