Rand knew he was in grave danger. His incantations poured forth in a frenzy, summoning terrible purple lightning and black flames that blotted out the sky, clawing desperately for any chance to break free of Xiao Chen's binding hold. But with mounting horror, he realized that the power bearing down on him belonged to the Fifth Heavenly Layer—a force that effortlessly crushed his own Fourth Layer energy with overwhelming, undeniable dominance.
For a spellcaster, being seized by a martial warrior was a catastrophic fate. Their close-combat abilities were abysmal, their bodies fragile and brittle compared to the tempered flesh of a fighter. Distance and attrition were their only shields, and now that shield had been shattered.
Rand did not wish to die. He knew Xiao Chen's hand dealt only ruthless death. Forced to the brink, he unleashed a desperate life-saving incantation that would drain his very vitality.
"Sacred armor, guard my body!"
Brilliant light exploded from Rand's frame, the radiance coalescing into a tangible suit of divine armor that encased him from head to foot, a fortress of shimmering protection.
In the same instant, Xiao Chen swept him downward, slamming him into the earth. With contemptuous, crushing force, he executed a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spinning kick that connected squarely with Rand's head.
Even shielded by the sacred armor, a pained groan escaped Rand's lips. The savage kick sent him tumbling over a dozen meters, his head spinning, nearly toppling him into the scattered leaves and broken branches.
Before Rand could launch himself back into the sky, Xiao Chen strode through the void and struck again—a leg swung like a cleaver, smashing him back down into the ground. Xiao Chen planted his foot on Rand's chest, then kicked him rolling across the earth.
The sacred armor shuddered violently, its energy light flickering as if on the verge of shattering. Rand felt at least two of his ribs crack with a sharp, stabbing pain that almost tore a scream from his throat.
He—Rand, the golden-haired paragon, the mighty spellcaster—had never endured such treatment. This was no battle; this was a beating. A humiliation so profound it seared his very soul.
But Xiao Chen was a force untamed.
Fierce light coiled around his body, his long hair whipping wildly as he radiated an oppressive, absolute dominance. He seized Rand and hauled him upright, then unleashed a merciless combination—straight punches, hooks, uppercuts, palm strikes, hammer fists. Each blow landed with brutal precision, sending Rand flying over twenty meters. Xiao Chen stalked him relentlessly, fists never stopping.
Without the sacred armor, Rand would already have been reduced to shattered bone and pulped flesh. Yet even with its protection, the overwhelming force penetrated the light-shell, snapping at least fifteen bones throughout his body.
This was no longer combat—it was savage annihilation. It was brutal humiliation.
Rand, once brimming with arrogant pride, now felt the razor edge of madness. He had brought this upon himself—he had wanted to test Xiao Chen's "measure," and instead had been crushed and battered beyond recognition.
His dignity lay trampled in the dust.
Shame and fury warred within him. He, who had once looked down upon Xiao Chen with supreme contempt, was now being beaten like a dog. The stark reversal clawed at his mind, nearly driving him to a frenzy.
A mid-air reverse kick, a three-sixty spinning horizontal sweep, a vicious upward strike—each blow was a hammer of contempt. Finally, Xiao Chen planted his foot on Rand's chest, raised one hand, and slowly wagged his finger with a look of cold disdain.
"You—are—nothing."
The words struck Rand like a physical blow. To have his earlier mockery returned in such a form was unbearable. He wanted to beat his head against the ground. Shame, fury, despair—everything boiled over. He had failed utterly.
Xiao Chen decided to finish it. If he could not shatter that sacred armor with brute force, he would find another way. If Yan Qingcheng wanted revenge for Rand later, so be it. But now, he would not let this enemy live—he had already come too far to allow a future threat to escape.
But Rand clung to life. Every man, at the edge of death, feels the desperate urge to survive. Risking half his remaining vitality, he invoked a forbidden incantation. He forcibly siphoned his life essence to reinforce the sacred armor, and a dazzling radiance erupted—his body blazed like a golden sun.
Beneath Xiao Chen's foot, Rand struggled violently.
Xiao Chen's killing intent was absolute. He hammered down with relentless fury, driving Rand deeper into the shattered earth. Yet even these savage blows could not break him. The light around Rand's body was like a divine tortoise shell—resilient beyond imagination.
Still, Xiao Chen did not relent. He continued to pound, to stamp, to drive Rand into the rock and soil. His feet sank deep, and the terrible force kept penetrating the light barrier, snapping more bones.
Rand was maddened, near the point of wishing for death. Finally, burning his very life-source, he plunged deeper into the earth, bored a tunnel, and erupted from the surface some distance away, launching himself into the sky like a meteor streaking across the heavens—his life essence ablaze.
Chasing was futile. Xiao Chen watched in stillness as Rand vanished into the distant sky. He knew that even if Rand survived, he would be a cripple for at least half a year. Too many shattered bones—there was nothing to fear.
Wounded and broken, Rand would now taste the bitter dregs of failure. The torment of spirit, far more painful than instant death, was perhaps the greatest punishment for his former arrogance.
Above the valley, the assembled alliances erupted in cheers. A magnificent battle—Xiao Chen, alone, challenging the Revenge Alliance, and utterly defeating them.
Many alliances immediately began planning to recruit him. Such a formidable warrior on Dragon Island was a blade worth winning.
Xiao Chen strode out of the valley without a backward glance.
At the mouth of the valley, he left afterimages in the forest as he vanished from sight, hoping to avoid the inevitable offers. But the alliance founders had anticipated this—cultivators kept intercepting him in the woods, inviting him to join their factions.
Among them were alliances of extraordinary power, such as the "Undefeated Alliance" founded by a descendant of Dugu Qiubai, and the "Flying Dagger Alliance" founded by an heir of Li Xunhuan.
There were also alliances of beautiful women, like the "Blue Rain Alliance." Its founder, Lan Yu, left a deep impression on Xiao Chen—a gentle, soft-spoken beauty, unlike the fierce Zhao Lin'er or Yan Qingcheng. She was like water in human form.
And the "Rose Alliance"...
Xiao Chen could afford to offend none. He thanked each in turn, then politely declined.
Finally, he shook off everyone and made his way back toward his hidden dwelling. The battle had drained him deeply; lingering in the area invited danger.
On the path, a figure of peerless grace blocked his way. Her purple robes fluttered in the wind, her whole being imbued with the essence of heaven and earth, an ethereal, airy presence. It was Yan Qingcheng.
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