Clash of Spatial Powers

Gu Rong saw this scene.

The two ghostly lights in his eyes grew brighter.

"This old man came here today for one thing."

His voice sank to the very depths, every word seeming to be dug out from the deepest part of his chest.

"To let you know that our Rongrong is not someone you, or whatever force stands behind you, can casually set your sights on."

One step. He stepped forward. His aura surged another notch.

"Our Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect is not something you, or whatever force stands behind you, can casually scheme against either."

Another step. The gale within the main hall grew fiercer. The lamps went out, and darkness swallowed everything, leaving only the intersecting glow of two sets of nine soul rings.

"Come."

Gu Rong drew out the last word in a grating tone.

"Let this old man see what you are capable of."

In his dragon eyes was reflected Yang Xing's face, lit by the glow of the soul rings and still bearing lipstick marks.

"If you are nothing but a hollow show."

His hoarse voice echoed through the darkness.

"Then tonight, you will only be beaten to death by this old man."

He paused for a beat.

"Or."

The corners of Gu Rong's mouth split into a grin. Combined with his deeply sunken eye sockets, that smile looked ten times more horrifying than any ghost or demon beneath the glow of the soul rings.

"Or show me the strength to beat this old man to death. Then you can be Rongrong's master, and we will accept every scheme aimed at our Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect!"

As his words fell—

Two auras faced off within the main hall. Gu Rong's side was violent as a tidal wave, while Yang Xing's was silent as an abyss.

At the very center of the clashing storm, Yang Xing finished the last sip of tea.

He gently set the cup down on a side table that had been shoved crooked by the pressure waves but had not yet toppled over. The soft "tap" was especially clear amid the howling wind filling the room.

"Only right." Yang Xing nodded.

Gu Rong's brows furrowed slightly.

"However." Yang Xing raised a hand and pointed around them, his tone carrying a hint of regret. "This is the first decent place I've managed to stay in after many years. The Barak City Lord arranged it for me."

He stood and brushed the dust from the back of his sleeping robe.

"I'd hate to see it wrecked. Let's change locations."

Gu Rong said nothing.

Yang Xing's gaze left the walls and settled on Gu Rong.

The two exchanged a glance.

Just one glance.

Then Gu Rong's world turned upside down.

There was no transition. No warning. Not even the slightest energy fluctuation that could be sensed.

Heaven and earth flipped before his eyes.

Black became white. Up became down. The ruined main hall, the extinguished oil lamp, the splinters of wood floating in the air—all vanished in an instant.

In their place was wind.

A shrieking gale at high altitude, filling his ears and nearly tearing him apart.

Gu Rong's pupils contracted sharply to their limits.

He looked down.

Beneath his feet was empty space.

Far below lay the vast, curved earth a thousand meters beneath him. Suotuo City was like a chessboard the size of a thumb beneath his feet, while the forests and rivers beyond the city resembled thin lines drawn by a brush.

He was a thousand meters in the air.

When had he reached a thousand meters in the air?

Gu Rong's mind seemed to have been paused at that moment. Half a second of utter blankness.

Then he saw Yang Xing.

In the empty air more than ten meters away. The young man stood suspended in the sky, his robes snapping in the gale. But he was no longer wearing that loose brocade sleeping robe.

At some point, Yang Xing had changed into a dark blue-black long robe with fitted sleeves. The material was neat and close-fitting, outlining his straight, 1.85-meter frame. The fierce high-altitude winds sent the hem of his robe dancing wildly, his loose strands of hair fluttering. The air around him had abruptly shifted from the utterly languid manner he had displayed in the hall to an entirely different state.

Composure.

The composure of someone looking down upon heaven and earth.

Gu Rong realized something.

His pupils contracted again. At the same instant, his body shot backward, flashing several times and opening a distance of several hundred meters.

Cold sweat.

Sheets of cold sweat poured from his back, freezing to the bone in the frigid wind a thousand meters above the ground.

How was this possible?

Gu Rong's mind raced.

He was a Rank 95 Titled Douluo. Rank 95! Ordinary Titled Douluo were no different from ants before him. Across all of Douluo Continent, fewer than five people could make him feel threatened.

But just now—

From the main hall to a thousand meters in the sky.

During that transfer, he had sensed nothing out of the ordinary.

No fluctuations from space tearing apart, no sensation of Soul Power entering his body, no warning whatsoever that would have allowed him to react.

It was as if someone had simply swapped two worlds in the instant he blinked.

And he, Gu Rong, a Rank 95 Titled Douluo, had been utterly unable to resist throughout the entire process.

Gu Rong's martial soul was the Bone Dragon. The Bone Dragon itself possessed the special ability to travel through space, one of the foundations of his standing on the continent. His sensitivity to spatial power far surpassed that of most experts at his level.

Yet he had sensed nothing.

What did that mean?

It meant the other party's control over space had far exceeded the limits of his understanding.

Gu Rong had lived for decades. In all his memories, someone capable of instantly transferring a Rank 95 Titled Douluo without leaving him any room to resist... Gu Rong had lived for decades. In all his memories, someone capable of doing that...

Not one.

Or rather, he had never encountered a single person capable of doing that to him.

Even Rank 97 or Rank 98 peak Douluo, facing him with their strongest abilities, could not control him so effortlessly.

Much less this young man before him, who had subjected him to such terrifying manipulation in the very spatial abilities Gu Rong specialized in.

Were hundred-thousand-year soul rings really this powerful?

Gu Rong's back had gone cold.

But he did not retreat.

Cold sweat was one thing. His entire body being taut was another. Yet Gu Rong's next move was not to flee.

It was to erupt.

"Seventh Soul Skill, Bone Dragon True Body!"

His roar exploded amid the raging winds at high altitude.

Gu Rong's body rapidly expanded, his bones stretching as his form underwent a tremendous transformation.

His human shape vanished completely within a few breaths, replaced by a gigantic Bone Dragon with a wingspan of dozens of meters.

Its entire body was formed from the hardest bones, shrouded in a deep violet glow. Two clusters of violet ghostfire burned within its hollow dragon eyes, while every inch of its bones radiated the baleful aura of an ancient ferocious beast.

Its enormous wings spread wide, casting a shadow across the thousand-meter sky.

The Bone Dragon's savage dragon eyes locked firmly onto the dark blue-black figure ahead.

More than ten meters away.

Yang Xing looked at Gu Rong, who had already transformed into his Bone Dragon True Body, and nodded.

"Ready?"

His voice drifted through the howling winds, calm and faint, as though he were merely asking whether the other man had eaten.

Gu Rong did not respond. The violet ghostfire in his dragon eyes burned even more fiercely.

Yang Xing smiled.

"Then I'll begin."

The instant his words fell—

Yang Xing vanished from Gu Rong's sight.

The next moment, he appeared without warning beside the Bone Dragon's massive body. His movements were too fast for the naked eye to follow. His right leg swept out, wrapped in dazzling lightning, like a gigantic blue-violet blade of thunder, and smashed brutally into the Bone Dragon's ribs.

With a muffled boom, the Bone Dragon's enormous body, dozens of meters long, was sent flying sideways for dozens of meters by that seemingly insignificant kick, tearing through the air with a piercing sonic boom.