Chapter Fifty-Three: The Contest Concludes

Tang Haoming had already become his puppet. He had deliberately lured Li Qinghai, who was unprepared, into attempting to capture Lin Jicang, all in order to apply just the right amount of pressure on Lin Jicang.

Otherwise, if the tasers, liquid nitrogen, glue, and fishing nets had all been deployed at once, even Adongsa would have had a hard time, and the newly awakened Lin Jicang would have had no chance to resist.

But now, it was time for slaughter.

This young man, once gentle and kind, who had refused to harm others even in his darkest moments, now began to ruthlessly massacre the agents of public violence.

Yet, as the killing continued, the animosity in Lin Jicang's heart did not diminish in the slightest. Instead, he felt the emptiness in his chest growing ever larger.

His agitated emotions twisted his body into something more monstrous, as keratinized bone spurs erupted from his joints, each one exuding a terrifying lethality.

Lin Jicang tilted his head and stared at Li Qinghai. Li Qinghai's legs trembled as he staggered backward, but Lin Jicang seized him by the neck, his face swelling purple with suffocation.

"It's not me! It's not me! It was Mayor Lu Shengen—it was his order!"

"Death! Death! All must pay with their lives!"

Lin Jicang wanted to torture this leading officer, to torment him fiercely, though nothing he did could bring his mother back.

Adongsa watched all of this, ready to act and capture Lin Jicang, when suddenly a tremendous aura surged from the distance, crashing through three walls and pinning Lin Jicang to the ground with a single hand.

It was a burly, bald man, his muscular frame seeming to be sheathed in a translucent, resilient membrane that made one involuntarily want to touch it.

Yet he exuded an intimidating aura that warned all to keep their distance.

Lin Jicang writhed violently under his grip, clawing shallow furrows into the floor with his hands and feet, but he could not break free.

The bald man—Weng Dongqi—sighed. "Karma comes and goes. Retribution is inevitable. Dying by your hand—are they really innocent?"

He had only learned of Li Qinghai's unsanctioned operation after Yuan Liming reported it. The instinctive intuition of a Pulse-bearer had warned him something was wrong, so he had hurried over, only to arrive a moment too late.

Now Adongsa could no longer sit still.

Lin Jicang was his prize.

Weng Dongqi's gaze sharpened. Suddenly, a massive figure burst through a nearby wall, charging straight at him.

The instant they collided, Weng Dongqi stiffened.

Because—damn, he was heavy!

The figure crashed into him like a mountain, leaving Weng Dongqi with no chance to resist as he was sent flying, smashing through a wall and landing out on the street.

This figure was none other than Arthur, who wielded the power of mass manipulation.

At this moment, Arthur's entire body was armored in fish-scale-like keratin, with joints shaped into sockets. Though his agility was reduced, his stability soared, making him resemble a sturdy wooden pile.

The sudden increase in Arthur's mass collapsed the floor beneath him, and he fell through, but he quickly lightened himself, formed an edge, and leaped nimbly back up.

Lin Jicang was still raging, but Arthur tossed over a clone, which burrowed swiftly into Lin Jicang's body and began secreting copious anesthetics.

Lin Jicang shuddered, but still lunged furiously.

"Seriously? The stuff Adongsa gave is this useless?"

"I'm just analyzing his resistance."

In the next instant, Lin Jicang suddenly collapsed, snoring loudly.

Arthur, who had been bracing for an attack, awkwardly lowered his guard. As he relaxed, the fish-scale skin faded away, retracting under his flesh to reveal dark red, powerful muscle fibers.

Weng Dongqi, who had been knocked away, landed lightly on his feet. He listened for a moment, confirmed that everyone in the building had been evacuated, then clenched his fist, his knuckles protruding. With a bang, he drove his fist deep into a support pillar.

A deep crater appeared, and cracks snaked outward, widening and deepening until the beam fractured completely. The splitting floors pressed together, arching and collapsing.

Suddenly, the entire building shuddered violently.

"What’s happening?"

"The building’s about to collapse."

"Collapse?"

Arthur hurriedly hoisted the unconscious Lin Jicang and dashed out, landing lightly on the ground.

The moment his feet touched down, a piercing shriek split the air. Arthur’s vision spun wildly—he found himself staring at his own body from afar.

A body without a head.

Arthur had been decapitated in an instant!

Weng Dongqi stood coldly at a distance, his hand still poised in a horizontal slash, though he wielded no blade.

"What sort of monster—?"

Before he could finish, six jointed limbs sprouted from beneath Arthur’s severed head, scuttling away comically.

"Whoa! Time to bail!"

And yet, his headless body hoisted Lin Jicang and kept running, scooping up the severed head and slotting it back into place.

Weng Dongqi narrowed his eyes and, with a wave of his hand, his fingers formed over a dozen seals in a second. A string of firecracker-like explosions burst forth, and the chaotic air convulsed like a python seized by the throat; even the light twisted momentarily as a compressed air cannon shot out.

With an ear-splitting shriek that stabbed the eardrums, a gaping wound was instantly torn in Arthur’s body.

This was Gale Force, the signature technique of Weng Dongqi, the Saint of Techniques and Lord of Winds.

He stamped his foot, ready to pursue, when suddenly a massive figure blocked his path.

"Who’s there?" Weng Dongqi squinted, sensing something oddly familiar about this monster.

The creature had no head, but a face was embedded in the center of its chest. Its body was covered in rock-like muscles, lined with rows of eyes and tentacles, making it a truly terrifying sight.

The creature bellowed, its chest-face glaring at Weng Dongqi with bloodshot, ferocious eyes.

Weng Dongqi spoke slowly, "I remember you. You were one of the Enforcers—Che Juchen."

During Adongsa’s experiments, Che Juchen had fiercely resisted the corruption and, as expected, suffered a mental collapse, becoming this monster. Yet his combat prowess was now extraordinary.

Che Juchen bellowed again and charged.

Weng Dongqi puffed out his chest and swept his arms, sending two blades of wind slicing forward.

But the tentacles covering Che Juchen’s body rippled like waves, resonating with the wind blades and dispersing them with surprising ease.

"A pitiful sight. Let me help you find release."

With a snort, Weng Dongqi stepped forward, his entire body swirling with wind. With nothing but the tremors of his muscles, he conjured a string of small vortices, then gathered them into a powerful blast of compressed air.

He shifted his hands from open palms to fists and struck out into the air.

His slippery muscles quivered in harmony, violently altering the air’s density through compression and collision until his outline became a blur. Countless miniature cyclones converged at his fist, compressed and then unleashed with a cannon-blast roar.

This awe-inspiring technique seemed almost magical—even Adongsa would have been forced to admire it.

Modeling the flow of gases has always been a major challenge in industrial manufacturing. Even supercomputers struggle to track the movement of gas molecules. Yet the Pulse-bearer accomplished this feat by instinct, using his formidable strength and skill to manipulate the air at will, transforming it into a devastating weapon.