28: Chapter 28 Second-Tier Watcher: One punch shatters a three-meter-thick tentacle.

Command Center.

All screens simultaneously captured the location where that person reappeared—directly above the beast's head.

But this time, he wasn't standing. He was falling.

Free-falling from a hundred meters in the air, his black trench coat was torn by the airflow into an upward-bursting umbrella shape, revealing the taut lines of his body underneath.

His right fist was tucked at his waist.

The muscles of his entire right arm tensed inch by inch during the fall, from shoulder to elbow to wrist to knuckles, like a steel cable twisted to its limit.

The Major General stood on the deck. He did not lower his binoculars.

"Is this even human?"

The beast sensed the threat.

Eight tentacles retracted simultaneously, whipping toward him from all directions on the sea surface—

Slow. Too slow.

In Su Chen's pupils, the trajectories of the tentacles seemed to be slowed down threefold.

Back at Tier 1, the speed of these things could still pressure him, but now their trajectories were crystal clear; where the joints turned, where the force converged, and from which angle the bone spikes at the tips would strike—everything was fully exposed.

Tier 2 Watcher.

Speed stat 21. Strength stat 22.

It was his first time fighting with this body.

The first tentacle swept over from the left, wrapped in ten thousand tons of seawater and corrosive mucus.

Su Chen turned sideways during the fall.

The tentacle grazed the hem of his trench coat, the whipped-up airflow making his hair snap and flutter.

It missed by less than ten centimeters.

The second one stabbed up from directly below. The circular mouthpart of the bone spike at the tip opened; each bone spike was as long as an adult's forearm, thrusting toward his chest cavity.

Su Chen's body twisted in mid-air at an impossible angle.

He stepped on the side of the second tentacle and kicked off to gain leverage.

The bone spike passed under his armpit, hitting nothing.

And his body—shot forward.

Heading straight for the third tentacle.

This time, he didn't dodge.

He smashed his right fist down.

The moment his fist slammed into the dark green scales, everyone in the Command Center saw the same scene—

The tentacle broke.

It was smashed apart by a single punch.

The tentacle, over three meters in diameter, burst outward from the point of impact; the scales shattered into flying shrapnel, and dark blue body fluid sprayed over a dozen meters high.

The wound at the break wasn't a clean cut; it was pulverized. The bones were shattered, the muscles were shredded, the blood vessels were ruptured—everything was crushed from the inside out.

Pure, violent, unreasonable physical strength.

In the Command Center, a young staff officer's chair slid back half a meter, pushed by his own legs. He didn't even know when he had pushed off.

Su Chen didn't stop.

He stepped on the severed tentacle remnant to spring up, then teleported.

Appearing directly above the fourth tentacle, he fell, left fist crashing down.

Break.

Teleport.

The fifth one. His right knee smashed down from above. The entire tentacle folded in half, and the scales at the fold shattered and flew off.

Break.

Teleport.

The sixth one. The seventh one.

He wove between the eight tentacles, his trajectory like a steel ball bouncing in a pinball machine.

Each appearance was accompanied by a dull boom and the snapping of a tentacle.

The severed remnants churned on the blood-red sea, and the dark blue body fluid dyed the surrounding seawater a bizarre fluorescent color.

At the severed ends, pink granulation tissue began to squirm—regeneration.

Still the same old trick.

Su Chen landed on the beast's head, left foot stepping on the scales, right foot planted on the bone ridge beside the vertical pupil.

He looked down.

That massive dark red eye was contracting frantically.

The magma churning within the vertical pupil was no longer the calmness of a predator inspecting its prey, but the stress response of a creature that had had six of its arms torn off, desperately mobilizing its regenerative abilities.

Su Chen raised his right hand.

His palm lit up.

It was different from last time in the factory.

Last time it was orange-red, 1,350 degrees, only enough to ignite pipelines.

This time, it was white.

Pure white flames surged from his palm; no smoke, no excess halo, just a mass of dry, whitish fire with heat so intense it tore the surrounding air directly into a plasma state.

Two thousand degrees.

The seawater within a three-meter radius under his feet evaporated violently, a pillar of white steam shooting into the sky, amidst a mass of rising mist and white flames.

The two remaining tentacles and the six regenerating severed limbs slammed toward Su Chen simultaneously.

Su Chen didn't look at them.

He crouched down and pressed his right palm onto the scales beneath his feet.

The white flames poured in.

"Flame Ring."

The two words were torn apart by the sea breeze, but the flames heard them.

The 2,000-degree white flames didn't spread outward—they drilled inward.

Seeping through the gaps in the scales into the surface defense layer, they spread deep inside along the dark green vascular network.

The beast howled.

The low-frequency roar shook the sea surface, creating ring-shaped waves that pushed the three destroyers dozens of meters away.

People on the deck swayed unsteadily; Zhou Yu held Shen Nian tightly, his back slamming against the steel plate of the bridge.

The trajectories of the tentacles were all off-course—they weren't smashing toward Su Chen; they were struggling, twisting, in pain.

The white flames spread through the beast's body at extreme speed.

The vascular network was the best conduit; the 2,000-degree temperature vaporized the blood, the shockwave of the vaporization opening up more channels, and the flames poured in, snowballing, burning deeper and deeper.

The beast began to submerge.

Its head sank into the sea, the seawater rising over Su Chen's ankles.

Su Chen stood up.

He raised his left hand, fingers spread, palm facing the sky.

White flames erupted from his palm, not downward, but upward.

The flames condensed in the air.

Rotating, compressing, stretching.

The white flame streams were twisted by an invisible force into solid shapes—one, two, three.

Six long spears made entirely of white flames hovered above Su Chen's head.

Each was three meters long, the spear bodies white and luminous, the temperature at the tips so high that the air simply vanished at that point, leaving a slightly distorted black spot.

The beast was still sinking.

Su Chen leaped from its head, teleporting to an altitude of thirty meters.

Looking down.

On the sea surface, the beast's outline was faintly visible in the blood-red water; eight tentacles—six half-grown new flesh and two intact ones—churned frantically beneath the surface, trying to drag the head down into the deep sea.

Su Chen waved his right hand downward.

"Pierce."

The six white flame spears dove simultaneously.

Different trajectories, different angles, but the same destination—the beast's head.

The first one pierced through the very center of the vertical pupil.

The massive dark red eye burst the moment the spear tip made contact, magma-like liquid splashing everywhere, instantly vaporized by the white flames.

The second one stabbed into the skull from the side.

The third one from the rear.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth pierced through this massive, fifteen-meter-diameter head from different angles.

The six white flame spears turned the Abyssal Tide Beast's head into a hedgehog.

The spear bodies didn't stop after piercing the head; they continued drilling deeper, all the way to the location of the core brain.

Su Chen hovered at an altitude of thirty meters.

The sea breeze filled his trench coat, the black hem flapping wildly in the night sky.

Beneath the mask, he clenched his hand downward.

Fist clenched.

"Burn Heaven."