An Unbeaten Golden Body Stuns the Crowd

Fang Fan stood in the arena, watching blue-violet lightning race all over the man opposite him. Only one thought came to mind: All flash, no substance.

Yu Tianheng was certainly giving it his all.

When his first Soul Ring lit up, he looked ready to tear the entire training ground apart.

Blue-violet dragon scales spread from his forearm to his fingertips. Arcs of electricity cracked between his fingers as they flexed, and the smell of ozone carried across more than ten meters.

The surrounding students retreated. Liu Erlong watched intently from the edge of the arena, and even Sword Douluo showed a flicker of interest.

"First Soul Skill: Thunder Dragon Claw!"

Yu Tianheng shouted and thrust his right claw forward.

A phantom dragon claw formed of lightning shot from his hand, hurtling straight toward Fang Fan's face with a deafening peal of thunder.

Fang Fan did not move.

It was not arrogance. There was simply no need.

To his eyes, the lightning claw moved as though in slow motion. The paths of its arcs, the distribution of its power, the point where it would strike—he could see it all clearly.

He even had time to estimate the claw's strength—

Just over four rings. Impressive for someone his age, but that's all.

When the lightning claw struck, Fang Fan did not even tense his muscles.

Boom—

Lightning surged, and dust billowed.

A shallow trench was gouged through the training ground, sending stones flying everywhere.

The watching students retreated again. Some covered their ears; others narrowed their eyes. All waited for the dust to clear so they could see how badly that pretentious fellow had been blasted away.

The dust cleared.

Fang Fan stood where he had been, without so much as a crease in his clothes.

The arena fell silent.

Yu Tianheng's expression froze, as if someone had pressed pause.

His dragon claw was still extended, trembling slightly. His eyes widened, and his lips parted, but no sound came out.

In the Spectator Seats, Meng Shenji shook his head and murmured something to the teacher beside him, probably some familiar remark about the young man being too arrogant.

Sword Douluo frowned instead. His gaze lingered on Fang Fan for another two seconds, as though he were wondering why the boy's physical resilience seemed so unusual.

Fang Fan ignored them.

He watched Yu Tianheng's face shift from confidence to shock to disbelief and found himself a little bored.

The attack had looked frightening, but in truth, it had not even been enough to tickle him.

Yu Tianheng's face reddened.

Not with shame, but with anger.

Fang Fan could see it in his eyes. Shock gave way to defiance, then defiance to fury.

Yu Tianheng was Heaven Dou Royal Academy's top prodigy and captain of the Imperial Fighting Team. When had anyone ever treated him with such contempt? Fang Fan had used no Martial Soul, no Soul Skill. He had not even dodged. He had simply stood there and taken the attack.

It was an insult. An outright insult.

"Third Soul Skill: Thunderbolt Fury."

Yu Tianheng practically forced the words through clenched teeth.

His third Soul Ring lit up, pouring blue-violet light into his body. Beneath his skin, streaks of electricity writhed like frantic snakes.

Lightning filled his pupils. His already tall frame seemed to swell, and blue-violet arcs burst from his body, crackling as they sprayed in every direction.

Fang Fan finally grew a little interested.

Not because the move was particularly powerful, but because it was a little stronger than the last one.

He could see exactly what Thunderbolt Fury did: it doubled Yu Tianheng's lightning power, increased his overall Soul Power by fifty percent, and sharply boosted both his physical explosiveness and defense.

The Soul Skill came at a steep price, too. It continuously burned Soul Power and left its user weak and drained afterward. In short, it traded physical exhaustion for a brief burst of strength.

Yu Tianheng's right hand had transformed completely into a dragon claw.

An enormous mass of lightning gathered around it, rapidly expanding into a phantom dragon claw two meters across that enveloped his entire body.

"Get—down!"

Yu Tianheng charged with a roar.

The towering lightning dragon claw carried him forward like a blue-violet meteor hurtling toward Fang Fan.

Stone slabs tore free of the ground. The air seemed to split. Everyone held their breath.

Fang Fan watched the lightning draw closer and thought, It does look pretty good.

Rumble—

A tremendous crash erupted across the training ground.

Lightning swallowed Fang Fan whole. Blue-violet bolts raced wildly across the ground, while the shock wave hurled stones and dust more than three meters into the air.

The entire training ground shook.

Liu Erlong took a sharp step forward, her lips pressed tight and a flash of tension in her eyes.

Sword Douluo frowned even more deeply. His hand went to his sword hilt before he seemed to realize it.

Meng Shenji rose to his feet, his earlier composure gone.

The lightning faded.

The dust settled.

Fang Fan stood where he had been. He had not shifted an inch.

His clothes were still uncreased, and not a single hair was out of place.

He simply stood there, his expression so calm it was as though someone else had taken the hit.

On closer inspection, even the stone slab beneath his feet was intact. The destructive force of the lightning dragon claw had somehow vanished half a meter from his body.

The training ground fell silent again.

This silence was deeper and heavier than the last, as though something had cut off everyone's voice.

Yu Tianheng stumbled back three steps, then five, then eight.

His legs trembled, not from exhaustion, but from fear.

Disbelief filled his young, handsome face. His pupils contracted sharply, and his lips quivered as he repeated the same words.

"Impossible... Impossible..."

Yu Tianheng's voice shook. He stood there as though all his strength had been drained away. Blue-violet electricity still flickered around him, but only in fits and starts, like a lamp with a loose connection.

Liu Erlong's expression changed again and again.

She knew how strong her nephew was. Even an ordinary five-ring Soul King would not dare take a full-powered strike from his third Soul Skill, Thunderbolt Fury, head-on.

Yet this boy named Fang Fan had used no Martial Soul, no Soul Skill, and had not even taken a defensive stance. He had stood there and endured it.

What level was he, exactly?

Five rings? No. Even a five-ring defensive soul master could not have taken that so easily.

And how old did he look?

Liu Erlong rubbed her eyes hard, feeling as though something was wrong with everything she thought she knew.

In the Spectator Seats, Meng Shenji slowly sat back down, his expression complicated.

He had said the boy was overconfident. Now it seemed the only thing overconfident had been his own judgment.

Sword Douluo gave Fang Fan a long look. His lips moved slightly, as though he wanted to say something, but he remained silent.

Zhu Zhuqing, Ning Rongrong, and Xue Qinghe were the calmest of all.

The corners of Zhu Zhuqing's mouth lifted in a smile that said she had known this would happen.

Ning Rongrong leaned against a pillar with her arms folded, her expression caught between just as expected and that's ridiculous.

Xue Qinghe maintained his courteous smile, though his fingers tightened slightly around his fan.

Fang Fan paid none of them any mind.

He tilted his head and rolled his neck, producing a faint click.

Those two attacks had not hurt him at all, but the flashing lightning was rather annoying. The smell of ozone was not pleasant, either.

"My turn," Fang Fan said.

He did not speak loudly, but in the silent arena, everyone heard him clearly.