Won't Admit Defeat, Liu Erlong Asks for a Beating

Yu Tianheng jerked his head up. The fear in his eyes had not entirely faded, but pride and defiance made him assume a defensive stance.

Blue-violet lightning flared again. Though much dimmer than before, he gritted his teeth, transformed his right hand into a dragon claw, and gathered the Thunder Dragon Claw once more.

Fang Fan stepped forward.

Whoosh—

Without warning, Fang Fan vanished from where he stood.

It was no Teleportation Soul Skill. He was simply so fast that most eyes could not follow him.

The next instant, he appeared before Yu Tianheng and drove his right fist straight out.

No Soul Skill, no Martial Soul, not even a proper punching stance. Just a simple straight punch.

Crude, direct, without a hint of technique.

Yu Tianheng roared and met it with his Thunder Dragon Claw.

The blue-violet claw of lightning collided with Fang Fan's fist.

Crack—

It was not thunder. It was something breaking.

The Thunder Dragon Claw shattered like glass. Blue-violet arcs scattered in every direction as the tremendous force flung Yu Tianheng's arm backward and sent him flying.

"Aah—!" A scream tore from his throat.

Yu Tianheng flew back more than ten meters like a kite with its string cut. He flipped twice in midair, slammed into the ground, bounced, then slid another three or four meters before stopping.

He lay sprawled among the rubble, his right arm hanging at an unnatural angle. The blue-violet lightning had gone out completely. He looked as though a speeding carriage had hit him.

The training ground fell silent.

The students who had been cheering for Yu Tianheng stared with wide eyes and open mouths, as if someone had frozen them all in place.

A few of their jaws practically dropped for real. They had opened their mouths so wide they could barely close them.

Liu Erlong rushed forward a few steps, then forced herself to stop.

Her expression shifted from worry to shock, then to something far more complicated.

She looked at her nephew sprawled on the ground, then at the calm-faced young man across from him. Her lips moved several times before she managed to speak.

Just how strong was that boy?

In her mind, Liu Erlong asked the question again, only louder.

One punch. An ordinary punch without the slightest fluctuation of Soul Power had sent Yu Tianheng flying more than ten meters while his third Soul Skill was active.

That meant Fang Fan's physical strength alone had overwhelmed Yu Tianheng at his peak.

This was no longer a matter of rank.

Even a seven-ring Soul Saint could not do that with sheer physical strength, without a Martial Soul or Soul Power.

Fang Fan lowered his fist and checked his knuckles to make sure nothing unpleasant had gotten on them.

He watched Yu Tianheng struggle to rise in the distance. His defenses are even worse than I expected. I only used thirty percent of my strength, and I nearly crippled him.

I'll have to go easier next time.

Fang Fan thought this without a flicker of expression.

In the Spectator Seats, Zhu Zhuqing's smile deepened.

She had fought Fang Fan before and knew how terrifying his body was. To him, that punch had probably been no harder than swatting a mosquito.

Ning Rongrong's mouth twitched. She had known how it would end, but seeing someone sent flying more than ten meters by a single punch was still a shock.

Xue Qinghe closed his fan and tapped it lightly against his palm, a thoughtful look flashing through his eyes.

Yu Tianheng finally climbed to his feet, half his body trembling. The way he looked at Fang Fan had changed. Fear had overtaken anger, and doubt had overtaken pride.

From beginning to end, the young man before him had not released a trace of Soul Power or shown a single Soul Ring. He had simply crushed him in the most primitive, brutal way possible.

The silence lingered, as though it would never break.

"I lost!"

Yu Tianheng's voice was hoarse and shaking. He sat on his knees amid the rubble, his face smeared with sweat or tears—he could no longer tell which. The once-confident, spirited captain of the Imperial Fighting Team now looked like a child whose every trick had been exposed, utterly bedraggled.

Fang Fan stopped and glanced back at him.

"You lost. What are you crying for?"

Fang Fan did not particularly dislike Yu Tianheng. He liked to show off, but at least he kept his word and admitted defeat when he lost. That was better than people who stubbornly refused to acknowledge the obvious.

But Fang Fan distinctly remembered Yu Tianheng thumping his chest before the match and staking the honor of the entire Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan on it.

In the Spectator Seats, Chen Xin rose to his feet.

Sword Douluo's gaze was as sharp as twin blades, fixed firmly on Fang Fan.

He had lived many years and seen countless geniuses, but never a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old who could smash through a level-thirty-nine Power Attack System soul master's attack with one punch powered by nothing but his body.

A Soul King? Impossible. Even a Soul King wouldn't have a body like that.

Not a Soul King? That's even more impossible.

Chen Xin frowned. His mind could not seem to make sense of what he had seen.

Poison Douluo's eyes were full of disbelief.

He knew Yu Tianheng's strength even better than Chen Xin did. Level thirty-nine, a Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Martial Soul, and a third Soul Skill unleashed at full power—even an ordinary Soul Ancestor would have to avoid a head-on clash.

And what had happened? A young man who had not even used his Martial Soul had taken him out with one punch.

Dugu Yan stood at the front of the crowd, staring at Fang Fan without blinking.

Ning Rongrong was stunned too, her lips parted and her eyes bright as lamps.

Fang Fan had known she would react like that. Ning Rongrong admired strength almost by instinct. Whoever was strong was handsome in her eyes; she had no loyalty to speak of.

Fang Fan looked away and turned to Yu Tianheng.

"You lost. Doesn't that mean you have to call your Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Martial Soul an Electric Rat?"

Fang Fan shrugged, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather.

The atmosphere changed the instant the words left his mouth.

Liu Erlong's face darkened like the sky before a storm.

She strode forward and snapped, "Don't you dare say it!"

Fang Fan turned his head toward her.

She was tall and attractive, but right now she radiated a ferocity that made her look like a female tyrant dragon whose tail had been stepped on.

Fang Fan noticed the Soul Rings appearing beneath her feet: two yellow, two purple, and three black. A seven-ring Soul Saint.

"What, going back on the bet?" Fang Fan raised an eyebrow at Liu Erlong.

Of course, he knew Liu Erlong was not a member of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan.

The Killing Horn of the Golden Triangle, Yu Luomian's illegitimate daughter—Yu Xiaogang had abandoned her years ago. She hated him and cursed him bitterly, yet here she was, still eager to stand up for the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan.

If that isn't being blinded by love, what is?

Fang Fan kept the thought to himself, his face expressionless.

"Who knows what underhanded method you used to beat Tian Heng?"

Liu Erlong's voice was icy.

"Your methods defy reason.

A boy who didn't even use his Martial Soul withstood a full-force attack from a level-thirty-nine Power Attack System soul master? Do you take everyone here for fools?"

Fang Fan understood. She was not really accusing him of cheating; she was looking for a way to save face.

Her pride would not let her admit that a Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon genius had been crushed by a peer using nothing but physical strength. So she needed an explanation she could live with—

Her opponent had used some underhanded method.

How tiresome.

"What, do you want to test my strength too?"

Looking at Liu Erlong's aggressive stance, Fang Fan suddenly felt annoyed.

At his words, Liu Erlong laughed in fury.

She took a sharp step forward, and scorching heat rose from her body.

"Looking for a beating?"

Liu Erlong ground out each word through clenched teeth.

"Then I'll give you one!"

The ground fell silent again. Everyone retreated a good distance, leaving a wide open space between them.

Fang Fan sighed.

He had only come for a fight. Why did everyone insist on making trouble for him?

The last one had lost and still could not accept it. Now someone who was not even part of the match had stepped in.

Is there something wrong with the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan? Every one of them is better than the last at refusing to honor a loss.

Fine.

Fang Fan turned to face Liu Erlong. "Let's see who gives whom a beating!"