Dai Mubai Becomes a Eunuch

"Third Brother!"

Xiao Wu cried out in alarm and shot toward the flung-back Tang San like an arrow.

She had never seen Third Brother beaten so badly.

That drunkard's movement technique was so bizarre that he could merge with his martial soul.

From the moment he was restrained to when he flashed before Tang San, it had been so fast that there had not even been time to blink.

Xiao Wu pounced to Tang San's side.

She saw that his hands were swollen red like steamed buns.

The Mysterious Jade Hand had not been shattered, but the tissues beneath his skin had all been injured.

Bruising had gathered into dark purple patches.

Her voice trembled.

"Third Brother, your hands..."

Tang San did not answer. He slowly climbed to his feet.

His dark brown eyes were terrifyingly grim beneath his dust-covered face.

They were like something suppressed before a storm, ready to erupt at any moment.

"Whoosh."

Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track activated.

Tang San's figure left streaks of afterimages across the grass, drifting unpredictably left and right.

His hands drew Piercing Bone Nails, Flying Needles, and Willow Leaf Darts from his sleeves. All ten fingers flicked in rapid succession.

The hidden weapons shot toward Fang Fan from every angle like a torrential downpour.

Every one of them carried Soul Power and gleamed with a cold, ghostly light.

Xiao Wu hesitated for only an instant before charging wildly at Fang Fan as well.

If Third Brother made a move, she would make one too.

Zhao Wuji's massive bear body steadied itself again. The five-meter-tall golden giant bear strode forward like a mountain rolling over the land; Dai Mubai also lunged forward again, his tiger claws sharp and fierce.

Four against one, attacking from four directions at once.

Zhu Zhuqing stood not far away, her fingers clenched tightly around the wine jug until her knuckles turned white.

Unable to hold herself back, she spoke with unconcealed anxiety in her voice.

"How about we..."

Fang Fan's voice remained lazy and composed.

"It's fine."

He turned his head slightly and moved his lips at her.

"Wine."

With a flick of his sword fingers, the Seven-Colored Light Sword flew from his hand.

Fang Fan merged into the sword light and vanished from where he stood. The next instant, he appeared before her, tilting his head and opening his mouth.

Zhu Zhuqing reflexively pulled out the stopper and held the jug to his lips.

Amber liquor slid down his throat, the motion smooth and natural.

[ Ding! You drank a mouthful of wine fed by Zhu Zhuqing. Drunkenness +10! ]

[ Ding... Current drunkenness: 820! ]

Fang Fan felt a surge of excitement. Seven more mouthfuls, and he could draw a prize.

The last draw had directly increased his first Soul Ring by eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight years.

With his left arm, he wrapped Zhu Zhuqing around the waist and lifted her. Man and sword became one as seven-colored sword light flashed, and the two of them landed beside Ning Rongrong.

Fang Fan gently set her down.

"Wait here for me."

Then he turned around.

"Whoosh."

Fang Fan appeared in midair, sunlight gilding his body with a golden edge as his white robes fluttered.

He raised his right hand high, and seven-colored radiance suddenly burst forth.

Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet interwove and flowed, painting the entire grassy field in dreamlike colors.

The light condensed, stretched, and lengthened, transforming into a massive seven-colored light sword five meters long. Its blade was as broad as a door panel, its edge flickering with icy radiance.

At the same time, five Soul Rings slowly rose beneath his feet: two purple and three black.

Two deep purple thousand-year Soul Rings and three heavy black Ten Thousand Year Soul Rings slowly rotated around that thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy, every ring radiating a heart-palpitating pressure.

Ning Rongrong's eyes widened, her rosy little mouth forming a circle. His third Soul Ring was already at the ten-thousand-year level? What kind of monster was this?

Fang Fan formed a sword seal with his left hand. The first purple Soul Ring suddenly lit up, coating the giant sword with a layer of purple radiance.

With a casual wave of his right hand, the giant sword shot down from the sky.

The five-meter blade tore through the air with a piercing howl.

The sword pressure arrived first, flattening every blade of grass against the ground.

Zhao Wuji stomped both feet fiercely into the earth, raised both palms, pushed the Immovable Bright King Body to its limit, and silently unleashed his gravity compression soul skill.

The giant sword slowed as it entered the gravity field.

But the instant Zhao Wuji's palms touched the blade, his expression changed. It was too heavy. It felt as though he were holding up a mountain.

The bones in both arms creaked. The ground beneath his feet cracked inch by inch, and his legs were slowly pressed downward until half his body sank into the soil.

What was even more terrifying was that the ground changed at the same time.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!" Countless seven-colored light swords burst out of the earth.

The sound of sword tips piercing through the turf merged into a torrential rain of noise.

In an instant, the area centered around Zhao Wuji became a graveyard of seven-colored swords.

Dai Mubai's expression changed drastically as he quickly dodged.

A bloody gash was sliced along the inside of his thigh. His pants tore, and blood stained the leg of his trousers red.

Tang San's pupils contracted sharply. He pushed Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track to its limit, weaving through the forest of swords.

A light sword thrust up from beneath his crotch and grazed past the base of his leg.

His pants split open, cold wind poured in, and he broke out in a cold sweat.

Xiao Wu's body instinctively displayed extreme flexibility.

Her waist bent backward into an arch, dodging the light sword stabbing up from beneath her feet.

She then backflipped out of the sword formation.

Zhao Wuji was not as "lucky" as they were.

He was the giant sword's main target, and the light swords erupting from the ground took special care of him.

His legs were pinned down, leaving him unable to move.

A light sword stabbed up directly beneath his buttocks, hitting the exact center.

"Ah!"

A miserable scream exploded.

The agony was like having a red-hot iron rod thrust into his most vulnerable place.

Zhao Wuji's eyes rolled back, tears and snot spraying out together as his whole body shook violently from the pain.

He used his last bit of strength to push the giant sword above his head aside.

He pulled his legs from the earth and leaped high into the air.

The five-meter golden bear body traced a miserable arc through the air, clutching his buttocks as he fled into the distance without looking back.

He was more than twice as fast as when he had arrived.

Ning Rongrong stood beside Zhu Zhuqing, completely dumbfounded.

A dignified level-seventy-two Soul Sage, already using his Martial Soul Avatar, had been beaten by a level-fifty-three Soul King until he lost control of his bowels and fled in panic while clutching his buttocks.

No one in the entire soul master world would believe it if word got out.

But she did not laugh, because she recalled the seven-colored giant sword descending from the sky, the countless sword lights stabbing up from the earth.

Fang Fan's white-robed figure hovered halfway in the air, five Soul Rings slowly rotating around him.

She had seen plenty of geniuses, but compared to Fang Fan, they were nothing more than fireflies competing with the bright moon.

She watched the white-robed youth slowly descending from the sky.

Something she had never felt before appeared in her gaze: curiosity, interest, and a faint, indescribable stirring in her heart.

Zhu Zhuqing's hand around the wine jug finally loosened somewhat. Blood flowed back into her fingertips, bringing a faint prickling sensation, and she let out a long breath.

She had been worried all along. Zhao Wuji was a level-seventy-two Soul Sage, while Fang Fan was only level fifty-three. The difference of nearly twenty levels was practically an insurmountable chasm.

But Fang Fan had used reality to tell her that before him, nothing was insurmountable.

His strength was not merely in his Soul Power Level, but also in his unfathomable swordsmanship, his exquisitely perfected movement technique, and his endlessly changing methods of attack.

"Ah..."

When Dai Mubai saw Teacher Zhao fleeing while clutching his buttocks, his face turned paler than a bald head. He turned to run.

Fang Fan had already flashed in front of him, so fast it seemed like teleportation.

A corner of white clothing flickered before his eyes, and a shoe sole rapidly filled his vision.

"Bang!" A kick landed squarely on his chest, carrying even greater force than before.

Dai Mubai flew backward like a kite with its string cut, soaring over the wooden cabin roof and past the crooked-necked tree before falling with a "splash" straight into an open-air latrine pit.

A foul stench spread through the air.

He struggled to climb up, his entire body filthy. Just as he opened his mouth to scream, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his lower body.

An abandoned iron pipe had pierced straight through.

It drove directly into the most vital place.

The pain surged into his brain like an electric current. He opened his mouth and let out a scream even more miserable than Zhao Wuji's.

"Ah—"

As he opened his mouth, another surge of indescribable filth poured in.

His little brother had suffered a devastating blow.

Was the dignified prince of the Star Luo Empire going to be crippled like this?

"I... I'm going to kill you... I'll definitely kill you..."

His roar came from the latrine pit, tinged with sobs, desperate and hysterical. His body flailed as it remained stuck inside, unable to climb out.