Yang Zheng had always been wild and untamed. Since his awakening, even the most fearsome monsters were mere stepping stones crushed beneath his feet. But now…
He had been forced back by a woman?
"ROOOAAARRR!"
Yang Zheng's roar ripped through the air, a monstrous blend of sounds—rhinos, tigers, lions, wolves, and other nightmarish creatures—fused into a savage, primal howl. The sheer force of it smashed into the hearts of everyone present like a battering ram. Ordinary people trembled in terror, their wide eyes glazed with fear as their legs gave out beneath them. They crumpled to the ground, helpless.
Even Chen Feng narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing under the oppressive weight of Yang Zheng's power.
It was monstrous.
Yang Zheng's voice carried a terrifying might, as though it could tear through reality itself. If left unchecked, the Hundred Beasts' Roar within him could one day rival Dragon Aura!
This was just a taste—a brief glimpse of his strength, and yet it left a haunting mark. On the battlefield, this roar alone would freeze his enemies in terror. If his power grew any further, that roar could kill with fear alone.
He couldn't be allowed to live.
Yang Zheng was too dangerous, too extraordinary. Someone like him would only grow stronger with every defeat, becoming more unstoppable. If he walked away now, it would be like releasing a tiger back into the wild, or a dragon into the depths of the sea—next time, he would be even deadlier.
He had to die. Today, the conflict had to end in blood.
"Mrreeoow!"
Sensing Yang Zheng's rising fury, Fura's face hardened. A low growl escaped her throat, her eyes blazing with battle hunger. There was no fear—only the desire to fight.
A true warrior of the abyss.
Fura was driven by the traits of Unyielding as Stone, Courageous Heart, and Fearless Spirit. The stronger her enemy, the fiercer her resolve became. Faced with this ferocious beast of a man, her power surged, her will sharpened like a blade.
Guardian.
Fura, driven by the fire of her beliefs, feared nothing—not even the cold embrace of death.
A Martial arts master is often a fanatic, obsessed with perfecting their craft. Their body and soul endure the harshest of trials, pushing the limits of human endurance. Like Fura, some venture into the darkest corners, where ogres and death stalk the shadows, using danger as the ultimate test of their skill.
Swish, swish, swish!
Yang Zheng's eyes gleamed with savage intent, his murderous energy surging toward Fura like a torrent of blood. His violent aura oozed arrogance, death trailing in its wake. Fura, crouching low, shot forward with deadly precision. Within seconds, they collided, exchanging a flurry of brutal blows.
Every strike targeted vital points—head, throat, waist, groin—no wasted movement, no flair. This wasn't a contest of technique; it was raw, primal combat, a killing art honed by survival.
Yang Zheng, a master of Bajiquan, fought like a coiled serpent striking with explosive power. His moves were fierce and precise, his fists thundering with enough force to send even Thunder Scorpions fleeing.
And then there was the Hundred Beasts Roar. A monstrous power echoed in his strikes, an aura of wild beasts howling from within him. The roar disoriented his foes, combining with his martial skill to make him an unstoppable juggernaut. Many had fallen before him, their minds shattered by fear.
But this time, it was different. Fura was untouched by the roar, her eyes glowing with pure, murderous intent. Her strikes grew fiercer, her movements sharper, as if she were feeding off his energy.
She had no fear.
For the first time, Yang Zheng felt a flicker of unease. He tried to dodge her relentless onslaught, but something gnawed at him—a primal fear he couldn't shake.
Fura had battled and slaughtered in the Abyss for her people. Demons, half-beasts, creatures too grotesque to name—all had fallen by her hand. Though Yang Zheng was strong, his experience was a pale shadow compared to the horrors Fura had faced.
Bang!
Yang Zheng faltered for a split second, and that was all Fura needed. Her fist slammed into his chest, sending a shockwave through his body. His ribs buckled under the force, and he gasped for air as sharp cracks echoed from his bones.
"Xue'er! Yun'er! Aid me!" Yang Zheng roared, desperation leaking into his voice.
Two young women, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, sprang into action. Their auras flared, revealing their strength—both at the brink of Bronze Pinnacle. They moved with terrifying speed, their loyalty to Yang Zheng unquestionable.
Their eyes widened with disbelief as they saw him struggling. They had witnessed Yang Zheng crush foes with nothing but his fists, his power unmatched. But now, to see him reeling, blood trickling from his mouth, sent a chill down their spines.
Had he failed?
The thought passed through them like a ghost.
But hesitation was a luxury they couldn't afford. Yang Zheng's call to arms was absolute. They would live and die by his side, bound to his rise and fall. Without a second thought, they unleashed their powers, the air around them crackling with the intent to kill.
Twins.
Though they shared the same face, their demeanors couldn't have been more different.
The colder of the two stepped forward, her ink-black hair flowing like a shadow down her back. Her eyes were icy and sharp, reflecting the lethal clarity of a frozen spring atop a barren, snowy peak. She moved with an ethereal grace, wearing a flowing blue chiffon dress, delicate lace trailing her form, and a ribbon cinched tight around her waist like a noose.
As she raised her hand, the air thickened with frost. The temperature plummeted, and in an instant, a jagged ice spike formed at her fingertips, its gleaming tip sharp enough to rend steel.
"Hm? You dare to intervene?" Chen Feng's voice cut through the chill like a blade. His face, once composed, twisted with fury, and a dark shadow fell across his brow.
"This was a duel—a fight between warriors. If it had been a group battle, Yang Zheng would have fallen long ago."
Chen Feng's gaze, cold and unfeeling as a dagger's edge, swept across the twins' faces. Fear clawed at their hearts, an acidic terror that corroded them from within, igniting every nerve with panic.
"Enemy or not, once you stand against me, you're already dead. Beauty? It fades to rot like everything else—underneath, all that's left is a heap of beautiful bones." His lips curled in disdain, the weight of death filling his voice.
"Break the rules, and I break you."
Flames erupted from Chen Feng, his aura darkening with lethal intent. Without hesitation, he lunged toward the ice elementalist.
Balrog Transformation.
His skin turned crimson, and horns tore from his skull as the last vestiges of humanity burned away. Now, he resembled a demon born from nightmare—his presence so overwhelming that those watching froze in place, their hearts hammering in their chests, fear choking the air from their lungs.
The ice elementalist stood paralyzed, her confidence shattered. She had only recently awakened her powers, never facing a foe of such cruelty, and had no concept of how to confront the abyssal terror rushing toward her.
A flaming sword cleaved the air, slashing toward her face.
Her pupils dilated, then the world plunged into darkness.
Thud.
Her body crumpled, lifeless.
There was no scream—just silence. The once-beautiful woman now lay twisted on the ground, her body nothing more than a hollow shell, discarded like all the others.