Yellow-Class? No! Purple-Rank!

He saw a White-Class Mecha.

The scar-faced man froze for a moment, 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 you can save the damsel with one White-Class Mecha? Do you have any idea what a level forty-six Soul Master can do?"

The burly man slapped his thigh, laughing.

"Boss, I don't think this kid even knows how a White-Class Mecha stacks up against a Soul Master!"

The lanky man wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.

"A White-Class Mecha's only on par with 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 suggest you come out while I'm still in a good mood."

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

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

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

The scar-faced man laughed even louder.

"Try? Try what?"

"See what it's like to get smashed by me?"

Chen Xing did not answer.

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

The scar-faced man waved dismissively.

"Want to fight? Go ahead. I'll give you three moves."

Chen Xing grinned inwardly.

You said it.

The Mecha's right arm slammed 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 is too strong.

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 followed with another blow.

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 ended up embedded in the corridor outside.

The burly man's laughter stopped dead.

The weapon in the lanky man's hand clattered to the floor.

"That... that's impossible..."

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

"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 toward the burly man.

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

The burly man went still.

"What did you say?"

Chen Xing walked over and rapped on the Mecha's shell.

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

He smiled faintly.

"Yellow-Class."

The burly man's face went pale.

A Yellow-Class Mecha.

Something on par with a Soul Ancestor.

A level forty-six Soul Master could theoretically fight one, but that depended on who was piloting it.

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

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

"You... you hid the core's rank on purpose?!"

Chen Xing shrugged.

"Of course. How else was I supposed to let you have your fun?"

"You were laughing so happily, I hated to interrupt."

The burly man's face shifted between red and 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 slowly approached from the far end of the aisle.

He wore a black cloak, its hood pulled so low that his face was hidden.

But with every step he took, the pressure in the carriage grew 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 reached the center of the carriage, stopped, and slowly raised his head.

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

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

"A Yellow-Class Mecha. Interesting."

His voice was calm, without the slightest ripple of emotion.

"But this is as far as you go."

Chen Xing narrowed his eyes.

The pressure radiating from this man was many times stronger than the scar-faced man's.

He called out in his mind.

Pam Pam, analyze his Soul Power Level.

"Got it, pam. Scanning..."

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

Level sixty-two.

A Soul Emperor.

Chen Xing's brow twitched.

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

At the sight of the man, the burly man dropped to his knees.

"Lord Black Crow!"

The lanky man fell to his knees with a thud too.

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 those three men's reactions, Black Crow clearly held considerable status.

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

It gave off a sickening aura. Even the air hissed as it corroded.

"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 give you a quick death."

Every passenger in the carriage held their breath.

Some had already begun to tremble.

A Soul Emperor.

That was a Soul Emperor.

No matter how capable this boy was, he could not possibly beat a Soul Emperor... could he?

Chen Xing stood where he was, looked at the mass of black light, and suddenly laughed.

Black Crow frowned.

"What are you laughing at?"

Chen Xing did not answer him.

He merely rested a hand on his Storage Soul Tool.

Disdain flashed through Black Crow's eyes.

"Still trying to struggle?"

"I've seen through your Yellow-Class Mecha. What do you have left to fight me with?"

Chen Xing tilted his head.

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

Black Crow's expression faltered.

The next moment, Chen Xing brushed a hand across a ring on his thumb.

Golden light burst out once more.

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 looked up once, then promptly fainted.

The burly man wet his pants.

The lanky man slumped to 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, full of amusement.

"Who was it that called me useless?"

"Oh, right. The one who fainted."

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

"Think you can take it?"

Black Crow's face went completely white.

A Purple-Rank Mecha.

Something on par with a Soul Saint.

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

Was this some kind of fucking joke?

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

How did that make any sense?!

Black Crow turned to run.

But before he could take more than one step, the Purple-Rank Mecha had already raised its right arm.

"Don't leave so soon."

Chen Xing's voice was lazy.

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

"How about I make do with a few heads from your Holy Spirit Cult?"

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

"W-who the hell are you?!"

Chen Xing cocked the Mecha's head.

"Me? A useless nobody."

"Weren't you all having fun calling me that just now?"

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

Black Crow's lips quivered. He could barely get a word out.

Chen Xing's voice floated from the Mecha, light and breezy.

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