Yellow-Class? No! Purple-Rank!

The moment they saw the White-Class Mecha.

The scar-faced man froze, then laughed even harder.

"A White-Class Mecha? That's your trump card?"

"Hahahaha! You're killing me! I thought you were about to pull out something impressive!"

"You think a White-Class Mecha is enough to play hero and save the girl? Do you have any idea how strong a level forty-six Soul Master is?"

The burly man slapped his thigh, laughing.

"Boss, I bet this kid doesn't even know how a White-Class Mecha stacks up against a Soul Master!"

The lanky man wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"A White-Class Mecha's only about as strong as a Soul Grandmaster. Our boss could tear it apart with one hand."

Chen Xing jumped into the cockpit, and the hatch closed.

The scar-faced man was still laughing.

"Kid, I'd come out while I'm still in a good mood if I were you."

"Otherwise, don't cry when I tear that tin can apart."

Chen Xing's voice came through the speaker, sounding a little awkward.

"Um... How about you let me try first?"

The scar-faced man laughed even louder.

"Try? What do you want to try?"

"Getting smashed to bits?"

Chen Xing did not answer.

He raised the White-Class Mecha's right arm.

The scar-faced man waved a dismissive hand.

"Want to fight? Come on, I'll give you three free hits."

Chen Xing grinned to himself.

You said it.

The Mecha's right arm came crashing down.

The scar-faced man casually raised a palm to block it.

Clang...

A sharp ring sounded.

The smile froze on the scar-faced man's face.

Something's wrong.

This White-Class Mecha hits too hard.

There's no fucking way a White-Class Mecha should hit this hard!

He had caught the punch, but his entire arm had gone numb.

"You..."

Chen Xing gave him no chance to speak.

The Mecha's left arm slammed forward right behind it.

The scar-faced man could not react in time. The punch struck him square in the chest.

He flew backward, smashed through the carriage wall, and lodged in the corridor outside.

The burly man's laughter cut off.

The weapon in the lanky man's hand fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Th-this is impossible..."

The burly man stared at the White-Class Mecha, his eyes nearly popping out.

"How could a White-Class Mecha send a level forty-six Soul Master flying with one punch?!"

Chen Xing jumped out of the cockpit and dusted off his hands.

Then he tilted his head at the burly man.

"Who told you this was a White-Class Mecha?"

The burly man froze.

"What did you say?"

Chen Xing walked over and rapped his knuckles against the Mecha's shell.

"The exterior has White Rank paint, sure. But the core..."

He smiled faintly.

"Yellow-Class."

The burly man's face went pale.

A Yellow-Class Mecha.

It was on par with a Soul Ancestor.

In theory, a level forty-six Soul Master could fight one. But that depended on who was piloting it.

The force behind that punch had clearly been the full output of a Yellow-Class Mecha.

This kid had been putting on an act from the start!

"You... You hid its core rank on purpose?!"

Chen Xing shrugged.

"Yeah. How else was I supposed to let you enjoy yourselves?"

"You were laughing so happily, I felt bad interrupting."

The burly man's face went from red to white.

The lanky man had already started backing away.

But just then...

"Useless."

A deep voice came from the front of the carriage.

Every passenger looked over instinctively.

A tall figure walked slowly toward them from the end of the aisle.

He wore a black cloak, its hood pulled too low for anyone to see his face.

But with every step he took, the air in the carriage seemed to grow heavier.

The scar-faced man crawled back in from the corridor. The moment he saw the figure, his face turned deathly pale.

"M-my lord..."

The man ignored him.

He walked to the center of the carriage, stopped, and slowly raised his head.

Beneath the hood was a face so pale it was almost translucent. His eyes were pitch-black, like two bottomless pits.

He glanced at the Yellow-Class Mecha, then looked at Chen Xing.

"A Yellow-Class Mecha. Interesting."

His voice was perfectly calm, without a trace of emotion.

"But this is as far as you go."

Chen Xing narrowed his eyes.

The pressure radiating from this man was far beyond anything the scar-faced man had given off.

He called out silently.

Pom Pom, analyze this man's Soul Power Level.

"Got it, Pam. Scanning..."

"Target's Soul Power Level: sixty-two, Pam."

Level sixty-two.

A Soul Emperor.

Chen Xing's eyebrow twitched.

A Yellow-Class Mecha was on par with a Soul Ancestor. It really could not stand up to a Soul Emperor.

The burly man dropped to his knees when he saw the newcomer.

"Lord Black Crow!"

The lanky man dropped to his knees with a thud.

The scar-faced man lay flat on the floor, not daring to raise his head.

Black Crow.

Chen Xing had never heard the name, but judging by the three men's reactions, Black Crow clearly held a high position.

Black Crow slowly raised a hand, and a mass of black light gathered in his palm.

It gave off a nauseating aura, corroding even the air with a hiss.

"A Yellow-Class Mecha is nothing but scrap metal before me."

"I'll give you one more chance. Come out on your own, and I'll let you die quickly."

Every passenger in the carriage held their breath.

Some had already begun to tremble.

A Soul Emperor.

He was a Soul Emperor.

No matter how strong this young man was, he could not beat a Soul Emperor, could he?

Chen Xing stood where he was, looking at the black light. Then, suddenly, he laughed.

Black Crow frowned.

"What are you laughing at?"

Chen Xing did not answer.

He simply rested a hand on his Storage Soul Tool.

Disdain flashed in Black Crow's eyes.

"Still trying to struggle?"

"I've seen through your Yellow-Class Mecha. What else can you fight me with?"

Chen Xing tilted his head.

"Who told you Yellow-Class was all I had?"

Black Crow's expression stiffened.

The next second, Chen Xing swept a hand across a ring on his thumb.

Golden light burst forth again.

A Purple-Rank Mecha over eight meters tall landed in the center of the carriage with a thunderous crash.

Black Crow's pupils contracted sharply.

"A P-Purple-Rank Mecha?!"

For the first time, his voice trembled.

The scar-faced man raised his head for a look, then promptly fainted.

The burly man's pants were wet.

The lanky man had collapsed on the floor, repeating the same words over and over.

"Impossible... Impossible... Impossible..."

Chen Xing jumped into the cockpit, and the hatch closed.

His voice came through the speaker, unmistakably amused.

"Who was it that called me useless?"

"Oh, right. The one who fainted."

"So, Lord Black Crow, what do you think of a Purple-Rank Mecha?"

"Is it enough for you to fight?"

Black Crow's face went completely white.

A Purple-Rank Mecha.

It was on par with a Soul Saint.

He was only a level sixty-two Soul Emperor. Fighting a Purple-Rank Mecha would be like throwing an egg at a rock.

This has to be a fucking joke.

A kid with Zero Soul Power carries two Mechas around? One Yellow-Class and one Purple-Rank?

How the hell does that make sense?!

Black Crow turned to run.

But before he could take a second step, the Purple-Rank Mecha had raised its right arm.

"Don't leave so soon."

Chen Xing's voice was lazy.

"My younger brother's graduating, and I still haven't prepared a gift for him."

"How about I make up the numbers with the heads of you Holy Spirit Cult members?"

Black Crow's legs buckled, and he nearly fell to his knees.

"W-who are you?!"

Chen Xing tilted the Mecha's head.

"Me? I'm useless."

"Weren't you all having a great time saying so?"

The Mecha's right hand clenched into a fist, and light gathered around it.

Black Crow's lips trembled. He could barely form a word.

Chen Xing's voice drifted out of the Mecha, light and breezy.

"Come on, then. Let's see how many punches a level sixty-two Soul Emperor like you can take from me."