Is This Right?

The Ice-Armored Dire Bear let out an earth-shaking roar.

It had not been severely injured by that thrust. A wound three inches deep was like being pricked by an embroidery needle to a creature of its immense size.

It abruptly pulled back its paw, and its other forepaw came crashing down at Li Hanche's head.

Li Hanche pulled out his spear and retreated.

The bear's paw struck where he had been standing. Frozen earth exploded, and shards of ice scattered everywhere.

A fist-sized chunk of ice slammed into his shoulder, sending a dull ache through him.

He ignored it. With a turn of his feet, he had already circled around to the side of the Ice-Armored Dire Bear.

His footwork was a touch smoother than before, and the invisible layer of air between his body and the wind seemed more fluid as well.

Then he ran straight into the Nether Ice Wolf.

The cunning wolf soul beast had not launched a sneak attack while he was tangled up with the dire bear. Instead, it had chosen an even deadlier moment.

The instant after he had completed his evasion, when his old strength was spent and his new strength had yet to arise.

Its pale white fangs snapped toward his neck from the side, while its four ghostly blue claws dragged four trails of light across the snow.

The instant Li Hanche sensed danger, his body reacted.

He did not dodge. He could not.

He held his spear horizontally at his side, the shaft wedged between the Nether Ice Wolf's upper and lower jaws. Its pale fangs bit into the ice-like spear shaft, producing a shrill scraping sound.

The foul stench from the wolf's mouth washed over him, carrying the cold reek of rotting flesh.

At the same instant, the Ice-Armored Dire Bear's paw came down as well.

A massive impact surged through the spear shaft, swatting his entire body away like a fallen leaf. He spun twice through the air before crashing heavily onto the frozen ground at the edge of the snow valley.

The dull thud of his back hitting the ground mingled with a muffled groan from his throat. All the air in his chest was squeezed out by the blow, and his vision went dark for an instant.

Pain.

Fucking painful.

At least one rib was broken. Maybe two.

His left shoulder had taken most of the impact when he landed. It felt as though someone had hammered it with an iron mallet, a sour ache spreading outward from the gaps in his bones.

A taste of rust rose in his mouth. The impact had shaken blood loose.

But he opened his eyes the moment he hit the ground.

His mind had remained clear from beginning to end, without the slightest hint of haze.

The Mind-Clarity and Nature-Seeing Art kept his mind in a state of clarity bordering on ruthlessness. Pain was pain, but it did not affect his judgment.

The Nine-Turn Tyrant Body Art surged through his body at full force.

A warm current rose from his lower dantian and flowed along his meridians toward his broken ribs and injured left shoulder.

The pain did not lessen where the current passed, but it brought with it a sense of being filled.

The cracks in his broken bones were wrapped in a layer of warm soul power. Bone fragments were secured back into place, while the surrounding muscle tissue began repairing itself at an accelerated rate.

At the same time, the Frost Heaven Record within his body began circulating on its own.

The ever-present icy chill of the Far North was no longer an enemy at this moment, but an inexhaustible source of support.

Cold air surged up from the snow, seeped into him through the pores all over his body, flowed into his meridians, and fused with his soul power, turning into strands of pure frost energy that poured into his dantian.

The total amount of soul power in his dantian rose slowly but steadily, like an undercurrent gathering beneath a layer of ice, growing denser and stronger with every moment.

The Nether Ice Wolf was not in much better condition than he was.

Several bloody gashes had appeared in its snowy white fur. The ghostly blue glow around its left forepaw had completely dimmed, and it limped as it walked.

A bone-deep wound marked its ribs, left behind by the Ice-Armored Dire Bear's bone claw.

Its chest rose and fell violently with its ragged breathing. Every exhale squeezed a small amount of dark red blood from the wound.

Yet its gaze remained vicious. Its ghostly green pupils were fixed on Li Hanche, and its fangs were stained with both its own blood and the dire bear's.

The Ice-Armored Dire Bear stood in the middle of the snow valley. The wound beneath its armpit, left by Li Hanche's spear thrust, still bled down through its short fur, pooling into a small patch of dark red on the frozen ground.

A fresh claw mark lay across its left eye socket, left by the Nether Ice Wolf. It had nearly gouged out the bear's eyeball.

But its savagery had been fully roused. It repeatedly slapped both paws against the ground, producing heavy thumping sounds as if announcing to the entire snow valley: This is my territory.

Behind the snow ridge, Xue Qinghe narrowed his eyes.

He raised a hand to brush aside a lock of hair the wind had blown across his forehead, his gaze settling on the figure in the snow valley facing off against two thousand-year soul beasts.

"Uncle Snake, is this right?"

Snake Lance Douluo wore much the same expression as Xue Qinghe. It was not shock, but a dazed look that seemed to say, "I've lived most of my life, and today I've truly seen something new."

"Uh, Young Master, this..."

Snake Lance Douluo carefully considered his words, only to find that his vocabulary contained nothing suitable to describe the scene before him.

A six-year-old child, without even a first soul ring, was facing two thousand-year soul beasts head-on. He had been sent flying, got back up, and was still standing.

This was not right. This was completely wrong.

He had seen countless geniuses.

But what level had those geniuses been at when they were six?

Innate Full Soul Power was already the best of the best. Being able to dominate among one's peers was enough to make every major faction fight desperately to recruit them.

Yet this child, while others his age were still learning how to properly circulate soul power, was already risking his life against two thousand-year soul beasts.

Xue Qinghe fell silent for several breaths.

Several scenes flashed through his mind. In the courtyard, that child had taken off his shirt and exposed his thin back, letting two maidservants whip him with leather lashes.

Red welts overlapped one another across his back. Beads of blood seeped out and ran down his spine, yet he gritted his teeth without making a sound.

Qingluo and Baiwei's arms had grown weak with exhaustion, but he had merely changed position and told them to continue.

At the Martial Soul Temple, Salas had personally tried to recruit him, promising soul bones, cultivation arts, and a future as a Titled Douluo.

He had refused, his eyes rimmed red as he said Heaven Dou City was his home. His parents were buried in the mountains outside the city, and if he left, no one would sweep their graves.

At the time, Xue Qinghe had thought it was merely a child's simple attachment to his homeland.

But thinking back now, that red-eyed child and the madman before him, who had gotten back up to keep fighting under the assault of two thousand-year soul beasts, were the same person.

"Could those bizarre training methods really be that effective?"

Xue Qinghe spoke softly, as though asking Snake Lance Douluo, yet also speaking to himself.

Snake Lance Douluo did not answer.

He did not know how to answer. He had noticed some details he had overlooked earlier.

After that child had been swatted away, his back had struck the frozen ground when he landed. By all rights, he should have broken several bones at minimum and lain there recovering for quite a while.

Yet he had rolled over and scrambled back to his feet almost the instant he landed.

This was not ordinary physical training. It had to be some kind of systematic, methodical body-tempering art.

But no matter how he looked at it, those bizarre training methods did not seem like...