Won't Die

Five words, spoken lightly, as if he were asking whether the neighbor's cat had eaten today.

Zhao Wuji's eyeballs spun wildly. They were the only part of him that could still move.

The next instant.

Yang Xing raised his right hand, palm facing upward, and pressed it against the side of Zhao Wuji's massive, metallic-colored head.

"Too tall."

He spoke.

Then he began to exert force.

His palm slowly pressed downward, carrying an irresistible twisting force.

Zhao Wuji's body began to tilt gradually. His right foot uncontrollably slid half a step to the side. The three-meter-tall Martial Soul Avatar was like a tower shoved crooked from its foundation, its angle shifting bit by bit.

Zhao Wuji struggled.

The muscles all over his body bulged, soul power bursting out from every inch of his skin.

He fought against that palm, trying to resist the force that was tilting his body.

But it was useless.

Until the angle of his fall passed a certain threshold.

Yang Xing's palm suddenly exerted force violently.

Not slowly, not gradually.

It was the kind of explosive burst that released all its pent-up strength at once, clean and decisive, without the slightest transition.

"Bang!"

A dull thud.

The three-meter-tall Diamond Bear was pressed down by the head and violently slammed into the ground.

It happened so fast that Zhao Wuji did not even have time to close his eyes.

Then his entire face smashed straight into the dirt.

His face sank more than three inches into the ground, leaving only the back of his head and a thick section of neck exposed.

Dirt sprayed everywhere, and the ground trembled.

And the instant he fell, some inexplicable restraining force seemed to dissipate along with it.

Zhao Wuji's body, which had been held rigid, collapsed at once. His limbs sprawled as he lay prone on the ground.

At that moment.

The three-meter-tall humanoid Diamond Bear lay in the mud like a pile of sludge, its face buried in the earth.

It did not move. A powerful high-level Beast Martial Soul Soul Saint above level seventy, famed for his physical strength, had been flattened by a single blow.

Yang Xing withdrew his hand and stepped back.

He looked around.

There was nothing taller than him left in his field of vision.

"Comfortable." He stretched and brushed the dirt from his hands. "Now the view is finally clear."

On the training ground.

There was deathly silence.

Dai Mubai's face could no longer be described as "white." It was an almost translucent pallor, the color of someone utterly drained of blood.

His legs had gone weak, his knees trembling. If he had not been supported by the statue-like Tang San beside him, he would already have collapsed to the ground.

Zhao Wuji.

A level-seventy-six Soul Saint.

In Martial Soul Avatar form.

One hand.

Pressed him down, smashed him into the dirt, and he stopped moving?

What kind of joke was this?

Was that dirt indestructible diamond soil or something?

No matter how strong Ning Rongrong's master was.

He could not possibly knock Zhao Wuji unconscious by smashing him into dirt, could he?

Tang San's body was immobilized. His eyes spun wildly as every theoretical framework in his mind collapsed in that instant.

A level-seventy-six Soul Saint in Martial Soul Avatar form had been knocked down by one hand?

What did that mean?

It meant the gap in strength between the two was outrageously vast.

Any lingering doubts that he might be a Soul Saint were gone now, weren't they?

A Soul Douluo?

Not enough.

Could he possibly be the Title Douluo his teacher had told him about?

No, impossible!

He was so young...

While Tang San's mind raced madly.

Xiao Wu's grip on Ning Rongrong's arm had tightened to the limit.

Her face was deathly pale, and the terror deep in her pupils was so intense it was nearly tangible.

Zhu Zhuqing stood on Ning Rongrong's other side.

Cracks had appeared on her ever-icy face, ones that had never been there before. Her lips parted slightly, and in her catlike eyes was reflected Yang Xing's back as he casually withdrew his hand, dusted it off, and stretched.

Beneath her shock, an even deeper emotion churned.

This man truly was powerful.

No wonder he could be the master of someone as nobly born and arrogant as Ning Rongrong, and seemingly had her completely obedient besides.

For a moment, she felt rather moved.

But then, she suddenly seemed to notice a blind spot?

Ning Rongrong's mysterious master had not released a single soul ring so far?

What was going on?

Did he not need soul rings to use soul skills?

Why did the way he used soul skills differ from them, from Teacher Zhao, and Teacher Li?

Or was it that he simply could not be bothered to use his own soul rings and soul skills yet?

Was he only using those self-created soul skills Ning Rongrong had mentioned?

Zhu Zhuqing's gaze fell on Yang Xing's right hand, the hand that had just pressed down Zhao Wuji's head. It was casually brushing away the dust from its palm now, its long fingers clean beneath the moonlight, as though knocking down a Soul Saint had merely been like casually pinching some mud for fun.

Some inexplicable thought seemed to gradually take root deep within her heart...

And Ning Rongrong.

Having witnessed the entire process from beginning to end, Ning Rongrong's expression had completely transformed from its initial nervousness into something else.

Her eyes shone as if two flames burned within them.

The corners of her lips had risen nearly to her ears.

She released Xiao Wu's arm and rushed before Yang Xing, tilting up her face with a smile so bright it was almost excessive.

"Master! You're amazing!"

Yang Xing looked down at her. "Mm."

"Teacher Zhao is level seventy-six! He even used his Martial Soul Avatar! You knocked him down with one hand!" Ning Rongrong spoke faster and faster, gesturing with both hands before her. "You didn't even release your soul rings! One hand! You pressed him down with one hand! So you really weren't bragging to me back then! Could you really be some Title Douluo?"

"Of course."

"Tch, bragging! Didn't you say you were only eighteen? How could that be possible? But what you did just now was so cool! Even cooler than when you fought that white-haired old man!"

"Alright, alright. Believe it or not, whatever you want." Yang Xing waved a hand, unconcerned.

Ning Rongrong was still excited. But a few seconds later, she suddenly remembered something and turned to look at Zhao Wuji, who lay motionless on the ground.

That huge body had already begun shrinking slowly as his Martial Soul Avatar form faded. His metallic-colored skin returned to a normal human complexion, and his three-meter height shrank back to a little over two meters. But he was still lying there. His face remained buried in the dirt, completely motionless, looking utterly lifeless.

Ning Rongrong's excitement faded somewhat.

Although Zhao Wuji had nearly beaten her and Xiao Wu badly injured during yesterday's assessment, at his core, he was only a teacher with a bad temper. He did not deserve to die.

Her lips moved twice as she turned to look at Yang Xing.

"Master." Her tone was more restrained than before. "Teacher Zhao isn't dead, is he?"

Yang Xing turned and glanced at the gradually returning human-shaped figure on the ground.

"He won't die." He turned back, smiling openly. "He's probably just a little dizzy. He'll be fine after sleeping it off."