As the referee announced the start of the match, Zhang Lei immediately summoned his Martial Soul and underwent possession.
Amid a burst of red light, Zhang Lei's body began to mutate. His face grew hideous and terrifying, his eyes turned wild and frightening, and his whole person became sinister and dreadful.
"Hehehe, this is my Martial Soul, Blood Demon! It's an extremely rare special Martial Soul, not something you normally get to see!" Zhang Lei said smugly.
"Well? Did I scare you? Hehehe, if you admit defeat now, I can still let you off!"
The power of Zhang Lei's Blood Demon Martial Soul was quite unusual. Its attacks could corrode an opponent's Soul Power, leaving them weaker and weaker.
It was precisely this power of his Martial Soul that had allowed Zhang Lei to master such a sinister art as the Blood Handprint. Anyone struck by it would constantly lose their Soul Power until they lost their life.
Unfortunately, this time he happened to be facing Qi Ling! When it came to evil, was there any existence more evil than the emperor among devils, the Blood Devil Emperor?
Qi Ling gave a helpless smile and said, "Is this how you defeated Zhu Zhuqing? If this is all you have, then I'm truly disappointed."
"Blood Devil Emperor: Possession!"
Within blood-red light that shot into the sky, the Blood Devil Emperor descended upon the world once more. Qi Ling regained that noble, mysterious bearing as he sized up Zhang Lei before him as though examining a defective product.
The spectators, who had been cheering for Zhang Lei with tremendous excitement, collectively fell silent! Even a fool could tell that Qi Ling's Martial Soul was far superior to Zhang Lei's.
This was apparent not only from their respective presences. More importantly, ever since Qi Ling completed his Martial Soul Possession, Zhang Lei had looked as though he had encountered his natural enemy. His legs trembled nonstop, and beads of sweat the size of beans kept rolling down his forehead.
Naturally, Zhang Lei did not want to be like this either, but this was an instinctive fear etched deep into his soul, a devil's innate submission to a higher existence.
"Y-you... what exactly is your Martial Soul? How can it counter me so completely?" Zhang Lei managed to say.
"A firefly's glow dares to compete with the sun and moon! Zhang Lei, didn't you say you would show me your Blood Handprint? Go ahead and use it!" Qi Ling said, his arms folded across his chest, looking at Zhang Lei with the unmistakable gaze of someone regarding a lower life-form.
Facing Qi Ling, Zhang Lei panted heavily, knowing full well that the longer he delayed, the slimmer his chances would become.
Merely standing before Qi Ling now naturally brought a sense of despair to his heart, as though the person before him was someone he could never defeat. Before the battle had even begun, his will to fight had already been vanquished!
"Impossible! My Blood Handprint is invincible under heaven! No one can withstand it! How could I lose to you just like this?"
As Zhang Lei spoke, he began circulating the Soul Power within his body, and a yellow Hundred-Year Soul Ring lit up around him.
"First Soul Skill: Soul Power Amplification!"
Zhang Lei's first Soul Skill, Soul Power Amplification, could forcibly increase his Soul Power, allowing him to meet the requirements for using the Blood Handprint.
After his Soul Power was amplified, Zhang Lei's right hand gradually began to redden. Soon, it became the color of blood, giving off waves of an eerie presence.
"Second Soul Skill: Blood Demon Swift Steps!"
Zhang Lei's second Soul Skill could increase his agility for a short time, allowing his attacks to hit his opponent.
Both his Soul Skills served his evil art, the Blood Handprint. Their purpose was to let his evil art decide the outcome with a single strike.
In fact, this move of Zhang Lei's had indeed been successful wherever he used it. Every previous opponent who had been struck had surrendered without exception.
Zhang Lei therefore had reason to believe that, however superior his opponent's Martial Soul might be, as long as his Blood Handprint landed, they would surely surrender at once, just like before.
"Take this! Blood Handprint!" Zhang Lei swiftly circled behind Qi Ling and struck his back with a palm. That strike felt good; he had brought his full strength into play.
But when Zhang Lei retreated in satisfaction, ready to wait for Qi Ling to beg for mercy in unbearable pain, he discovered that Qi Ling seemed completely unhurt. Even the smile on his face had not changed.
"Keep going, Zhang Lei. Why did you retreat?" Qi Ling said with a smile. "I deliberately didn't defend because I wanted to experience your Blood Handprint. Why did you just give me a light pat and run away?"
"Ah, don't tell me you already used your move just now? Huh? Surely not?"
The infuriating expression on Qi Ling's face, coupled with his dismissive tone, could have angered even a dead man back to life.
Zhang Lei did not understand why his Blood Handprint had failed when he had clearly hit him, so he continued attacking Qi Ling.
"Blood Handprint!"
This time, the situation remained unchanged. Still completely unfazed, Qi Ling said, "Keep going. You don't even have the strength to hit someone, and you call yourself a gangster?"
"Damn it, I don't believe it! My Blood Handprint can't possibly be ineffective!" Zhang Lei said as he struck Qi Ling with three more palms.
"Blood Handprint! Blood Handprint! Blood Handprint!" After those three palm strikes, Zhang Lei was utterly exhausted. After all, the Blood Handprint consumed a great deal of Soul Power, and this was already his limit.
But to his despair, Qi Ling looked entirely unchanged, as though the person he had just struck had not been Qi Ling at all. Zhang Lei began to wonder whether his Blood Handprint was a counterfeit.
Of course, Zhang Lei's Blood Handprint was actually genuine, and it was not that Qi Ling had experienced no reaction. Rather than being injured, he felt greatly invigorated.
To his Blood Devil Emperor Martial Soul, Zhang Lei's Blood Handprint was practically a tonic. The instant it struck his body, he absorbed it, replenishing his Soul Power instead.
The only thing that could hurt him was the physical force Zhang Lei exerted directly, but to someone who cultivated the Nine Revolutions True Dragon Art, this truly was no different from a tickle.
"Finished? Thanks for all the effort. The Blood Handprint certainly lives up to its reputation. What tremendous power!" Qi Ling continued infuriating Zhang Lei as he looked at him.
"Hmm, as for its power... it's even better than the old fellow at the bathhouse. It couldn't be more perfect for scrubbing someone down! I think you should just rename it the Bath-Scrubbing Palm!"
Zhang Lei felt as though he was about to spit out a mouthful of blood. He had never met anyone with such a venomous tongue. Before Qi Ling had even made a move, his mouth alone had already become unbearable.
"Y-you... what art did you use? Why doesn't my Blood Handprint work on you?" Zhang Lei asked, unwilling to accept it.
"Simple. I didn't do anything. Your Blood Handprint is just far too low-level!" Qi Ling said with a smile.
"I'll show you what having your Soul Power truly drained feels like! First Soul Skill: Blood Devil Hundred Rending Claws!"
Claw shadows filled the air, enveloping the space before Zhang Lei and leaving him no way to dodge. Yet when those claw shadows landed on him, he discovered that he had not suffered very serious injuries.
But before Zhang Lei could breathe a sigh of relief, his expression immediately changed, because he noticed that every time he took an attack, a thread of Soul Power was drawn out of his body!
Although each strike drained little Soul Power, he was facing over a hundred attacks! Even Zhao Wuji could not withstand such an attack many times, let alone him.
On top of that, his excessive use of the Blood Handprint had already left his Soul Power nearly exhausted. If it kept being drained, his life might be forfeit.
Before even half of the hundred-plus claw strikes had landed, Zhang Lei's eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground. Even his cheeks seemed to have sunken in; he had almost been sucked dry.
At that moment, Zhang Lei only wanted to say one thing: I really have nothing left, not even a single drop!