150: Chapter 150 Breaking Force with Formations

"Good! What a way to break force with Formation! Truly exquisite to the extreme!"

In the spectator stands, that old Cultivator with white hair and beard slapped his thigh, his voice shaking the entire arena, causing even the air to hum.

His eyes brimmed with brilliance, his hair and beard trembling slightly. Each word he spoke was like gold and stone hitting the ground, ringing with clarity:

"Water and fire counteract, metal sharpness breaks the rigid, earth virtue bears the load! These are merely three of the most basic introductory Formations, yet he has utilized them to such a level!"

"The wonder of application lies within the heart! This is no longer just using a Formation; this is 'playing chess'! Using the arena as the board and Formations as the pieces, every step is a killing move, and every move hides mystery!"

"With this one move alone, he deserves the title of 'Formation Prodigy'! No—he is a 'Ghost Talent'! A genius rare in a thousand years!"

On the other side of the arena.

Third Prince Wu Huang's pupils suddenly contracted into two cold needle points.

The arrogance that seemed inherent on his face, the disdain that viewed all living beings as ants, collapsed and dissipated at this moment like a sand tower swept away by a gale, leaving not even a speck of dust behind.

In its place was a gloom that almost solidified, and a heaviness like a storm about to break—a heaviness that pressed down on his shoulders like a ten-thousand-jun mountain, causing his breath to hitch.

He stared fixedly at Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan. His gaze was as sharp as a poison-tipped ice awl, as if he wanted to scrape open, see through, and crush his opponent from flesh to bone, from breath to Soul!

Only at this moment was the contempt that had lingered in his heart like a maggot on a bone for over a decade finally crushed by the cold reality, ground into powder, and scattered with the wind!

He finally realized—

This "useless" Eighteenth Prince whom he and everyone else had mocked for over a decade was how troublesome, how... terrifying!

He could conjure Formations with a wave of his hand, forming them in an instant! Every movement he made was a Formation pattern!

How was this still a person?

This was clearly a walking, living, impeccable fortress of Formations!

A peerless, vicious Formation wearing human skin!

"Cannot... must not give him any chance to catch his breath!"

A voice as cold as the winds of the Nine Netherworlds roared crazily in Third Prince Wu Huang's heart, carrying a trace of... fear that even he was unwilling to admit.

The three earth-shattering attacks just now had been casually neutralized by his opponent in a manner bordering on humiliation. Those scenes were like red-hot branding irons searing his self-esteem, sizzling and aching to the marrow.

The torment of ice and fire instantly extinguished his last shred of wishful thinking.

"Hah—!"

His chest heaved violently as he sucked in a long breath, as if he wanted to swallow all the air in the arena, straining his lungs until they ached!

The crimson-gold True Qi around his body, already blazing and violent, erupted like a volcano that had been suppressed for ten thousand years, finding its vent at last. It was unstoppable!

His robes instantly billowed like sails, snapping violently in the wind. His hair stood on end, and beneath every inch of his skin, it felt as if magma was flowing, roaring, and howling!

He had completely transformed into a prehistoric Vicious Beast, thoroughly enraged, eyes blood-red, wanting only to tear everything before him to shreds!

"Since I cannot break your tortoise shell from a distance..."

Third Prince Wu Huang squeezed a low, thunderous roar from the depths of his throat. The voice was filled with the rage and killing intent of one who had been provoked, each word seemingly carved out from between his teeth:

"Then I will get close and tear it, along with you, into shreds!"

"Boom!"

Before the words had even faded, his figure suddenly blurred!

All that remained in place was a slowly fading crimson-gold afterimage, along with the ear-piercing shriek of the air being violently torn apart—a shriek like fabric being ripped, sharp enough to make one's teeth ache!

With the most domineering, wildest, and most unquestionable posture, he shot toward Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan!

Where he passed, the arena floor was plowed into charred gullies by the escaping True Qi. Gravel flew, dust billowed, and it was as if an angry Dragon was roaring along the ground!

His punch came out like a falling meteorite, wrapped in magma-like, scorching, and violent True Qi, striking toward his face. Where the fist wind reached, the air was compressed into a ball of white mist, as if he intended to smash his skull with a single punch!

His knee strike, like a heavy siege battering ram, followed closely behind, aiming straight for his chest and abdomen. It was vicious and ruthless, swift as thunder, intended to snap his liver and intestines and shatter his bones!

His leg whip, like a sweeping battle-axe, traced a shrill arc, kicking toward his lower body. The howling wind sounded like ghosts wailing, as if he intended to sever his legs at the roots and force him to kneel, unable to rise!

Killing moves! Killing moves! They were all killing moves! Every strike was aimed at taking a life, without a shred of mercy!

He pushed the 《Blazing Sun Battle Scripture》 to an unprecedented extreme. The True Qi within his body was like a torrent of boiling metal, emitting a deafening roar, straining his Meridians until they throbbed with pain. Fists, feet, elbows, knees, shoulders, hips... every part of his body had transformed into the most lethal and ferocious weapon. There was not a single point that wasn't murderous, not an inch that wasn't sharp!

The assault was no longer a simple continuous attack; it had completely transformed into a destructive storm—a dense, impenetrable metal frenzy woven from crimson-gold death rays!

"Woo-woo-woo—!"

The intensely violent energy crazily compressed, tore, and evacuated the air between the two, emitting a shrill, mournful cry like ghosts wailing and wolves howling, as if space itself were mourning and begging for mercy!

The crimson-gold web of light almost completely engulfed and drowned Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan's slightly slender figure, looking as though it was about to strangle him within it!

However—Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan's reaction was like dropping a ten-thousand-jun boulder into the lake of everyone's perception, stirring up subversive, monstrous waves!

He trod with extremely profound footwork, his figure shifting and flickering within a square inch. He was as elusive as a willow catkin in a gale, as eerie as a ghost under the moonlight—just when you thought you had caught him, your fingertips touched only a wisp of lingering wind!

Always, at the split second of life and death, by a hair's breadth, he brushed past the lethal attacks!

Third Prince Wu Huang's fist, capable of splitting mountains and shattering rocks, melting gold and transforming iron, whistled past his shoulder with a scorching heatwave. The violent aftermath blasted a charred, deep pit on the arena floor several zhang behind him, sending green smoke sizzling and gravel flying like projectiles!

When the vicious and ruthless knee strike aiming straight for his vitals came, his body suddenly shifted sideways like an intangible shadow. The sharp, blade-like energy only tore a piece of his sleeve, the sound of the fabric ripping crisp and harsh, yet the opponent hadn't even touched a hair on his body!

What shocked the entire audience even more, making them almost forget to breathe, was—amidst such high speed, such danger, and such dodging and maneuvering that was like dancing on a tightrope over a bottomless abyss, Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan's pair of slender hands, his ten slender fingers, had never once paused for a moment!

Not even for a second!

His ten fingers fluttered, like butterflies weaving through flowers, like playing a zither, like the most skilled seamstress threading a needle—so fast that they left behind a dazzling array of afterimages, as if he had three heads and six arms, and each finger possessed an independent will!

The trajectory of his fingertips carving through the air was not chaotic, but left behind trails of pale gold spiritual seals, full of spirituality and mystery—swift, precise, and terrifyingly stable!

It was as if an invisible ghost hand was splashing ink in the Void Realm, every stroke just right, every line secretly conforming to the Heavenly Dao!

One after another, palm-sized, yet incredibly condensed and glowing Formation runes were born at his fingertips, launched the moment he thought of them!

Third Prince Wu Huang had just stomped the ground with great force, intending to borrow the strength to attack again, when the incredibly solid Cyan Steel Stone floor beneath his feet suddenly rippled with a greasy, viscous, dark brown halo—Swamp Technique!

The solid stone instantly turned into an abyss, and the powerful suction force was like countless ghost hands reaching out from the Nine Netherworlds, tightly wrapping around his legs, dragging him down, swallowing him down!

"Open for me!"

Third Prince Wu Huang roared, shaking the heavens. His crimson-gold True Qi erupted, forcibly shattering the swamp. Gravel flew everywhere, but his steps were already chaotic, his figure staggering, and his fist momentum involuntarily stalled—though that pause was only for an instant, it was enough to be fatal!

In that flash of lightning, just as his old strength was exhausted and his new strength was about to be born, a blindingly intense and pure golden light exploded before his eyes—Blinding Golden Light Formation!

His vision instantly turned into a vast whiteness, stinging unbearably, as if thousands of golden needles had pierced his eyeballs simultaneously! He instinctively closed his eyes, his heart filled with horror!

And in this tiny, negligible gap where his vision was obstructed and his attack faltered, several pale green, nearly transparent threads of wind, like living spirit snakes, had silently wrapped around his arms and ankles—Wind Binding Technique!

His movements became three parts more sluggish, his strength reduced by another three parts of its sharpness!

"Hiss—!!"

At this moment, countless gasps of cold air sounded in unison from the spectator stands, converging into a suppressed wave that swept across the entire arena like a hurricane passing through!

Subversion! A complete subversion! A world-turning subversion!

In everyone's common knowledge, a Formation Master needs to calm their mind to set up a Formation, needs a Formation Plate and Formation Flag, needs time to inscribe, and needs to stay away from the battlefield—they are the ones who need protection, the long-range firepower, the fragile "glass cannon."

Once approached by an equal, especially by a strong Body Cultivator enemy like Third Prince Wu Huang who excels at close-quarters combat, they are like meat on a chopping block, left to be slaughtered, unable to even let out a scream!

But Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan, what had he done?

He had integrated Formations into every breath of the battle, every subtle muscle twitch, every moment of dodging and turning!

Dodging was setting traps! Moving was inscribing Formation patterns! Counterattacking happened simultaneously with condensing the Formation; it was a seamless, flawless whole!

The boundary between offense and defense had blurred on him, and the barrier between Formations and martial arts had been easily trampled by him, stepped underfoot, and ground into powder!

Every inch of space where his body resided seemed to have become an extension of his Formations. Every place his intent reached was a node under his control, and the direction his gaze fell upon was the territory where his Formations descended!

He himself was the Formation Core, the Formation Pivot, a living, unpredictable, and endless peerless grand Formation!

On the arena, the crimson-gold, violent, and scorching torrent of True Qi collided, intertwined, annihilated, and regenerated crazily with the blue, white, cyan, brown, gold... multi-colored, flickering spiritual light of the Formations!

A continuous, scalp-numbing roar of energy erupted, like ten thousand thunderclaps detonating simultaneously in a confined space, making people's eardrums ring and hearts race wildly!

The two figures had turned into two blurred shadows of light—one crimson gold like a scorching sun burning the heavens, the other iridescent like an inverted galaxy—flashing, flipping, and colliding at a speed difficult for the naked eye to capture, like a spinning lantern or entangled Dragons and snakes.

Most people could only see two dense masses of light constantly clashing and entangling, as if two ancient Vicious Beasts were locked in a life-or-death struggle. Only the terrifying ripples of energy that constantly exploded, slamming violently against the protective barrier around the arena like raging waves against a shore, and the clearly perceptible vibrations of the seats beneath them, silently spoke of how intense, how perilous, and how... heart-stopping this duel was!

The previously noisy and clamorous spectator stands, filled with the roar of the crowd, had long since fallen into dead silence.

You could hear a pin drop.

Everyone held their breath tightly, eyes wide, necks unconsciously stretched forward, as if this would allow them to see more clearly, to peer through that blinding radiance and glimpse which way the scales of victory were tipping.

They were terrified that a single blink or a single breath would cause them to miss that moment which would decide victory, or even life and death.

The massive shock was like an invisible hand gripping their throats and squeezing their hearts.

"Th-this Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan... is... is he even human..."

After a long while, a dry, trembling voice filled with endless horror broke this terrifying silence, like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, rippling outward.

A middle-aged Cultivator turned pale, his lips quivering, cold sweat beading on his forehead:

"Golden Core Early Stage... against Golden Core Middle Stage... and it's the Third Prince Wu Huang, known for his violent close-quarters combat... He, he not only kept up... This, this is simply... it's like seeing a ghost!"

"More than just keeping up!"

Beside him, the knowledgeable old Cultivator was flushed with excitement, his beard trembling, the sharp light exploding from his eyes almost becoming tangible, his voice turning shrill with agitation:

"Look closely! What kind of Formations is he using? Mud Swamp, Golden Light, Wind Binding... these are all the most basic, lowest-tier entry-level Formations! Common as dirt! Things any Formation apprentice could fiddle with!"

"But the genius lies in the application! The genius lies in the minute control! The genius lies in the unfathomable timing!"

"Mud Swamp obstructs his roots, cutting off his source of power! Golden Light disrupts his spirit, ruining his judgment! Wind Binding slows his movement, dulling his edge!" With every sentence the old Cultivator spoke, his voice grew higher, filled with admiration and excitement, until by the end he was almost screaming:

"Every single Formation is stuck at the most subtle, most fragile node of Third Prince Wu Huang's offensive transition and Qi circulation—a second too early and it would be shattered by brute force, a second too late and he would have suffered heavy injury! What exquisite judgment! What terrifying calculation!"

"This is not a head-on collision; this is dismantling, guiding, and... playing! He is forcing the use of these most basic 'rubble' to construct a 'dam' against raging waves!"

"Using skill to break strength, using technique to compensate for clumsiness, using wisdom to win—he has forcibly smoothed out this chasm of cultivation! Smoothed it out completely, leaving nothing behind!"

On the viewing platform.

Jian Xiaotian stared blankly at the young figure on the arena who, amidst the crimson-gold raging waves, remained as composed and leisurely as if strolling in a courtyard. In those eyes that had seen all the heroes of the world, only shock and admiration remained.

After a long while, he slowly exhaled a long breath, a breath filled with a sense of looking up at a high mountain.

He couldn't help but stroke his beard, his fingers trembling slightly from excitement. The appreciation and praise in his eyes overflowed, turning into the most sincere commendation, each word heavy as a thousand catties:

"Still as a virgin, moving like a rabbit. Calm as a mountain in the face of danger, commanding like a god. To be able to use the most basic Formations to such a supernatural, effortless degree—this is no longer just 'skillful'; this is... the embryonic form of 'Dao'!"

"The Dao of Formations has become instinct; every gesture conforms to the ultimate principles of Formations. Using insignificant 'technique' to shake immovable 'strength'... This child's cultivation in the Dao of Formations has already glimpsed the inner sanctum, ascended to the hall, and is only a step away from that 'Grandmaster' Realm!"

He turned to Emperor Wu Tianba beside him, his voice filled with endless emotion and a hint of deep meaning:

"Brother Wu, oh Brother Wu, this son of yours is hidden so... deep as an abyss, breathtaking, and also... chilling!"

Beside him, Emperor Wu Tianba's face had long since turned as gloomy as the thickest dark clouds before a storm, almost dripping with ink, black enough to wring water from.

He stared fixedly at the figure on the arena, a figure both familiar to the bone and so strange it chilled his heart—that was his son, yet he felt as if he were meeting him for the first time.

Unconsciously, his five fingers, like iron hooks, dug deeply into the armrest of the hard Dark Ironwood chair. His fingertips embedded into the wood grain, emitting a faint creaking sound.

"Crack..."

A faint cracking sound rang out; the armrest was actually pinched by him into several cracks, and wood shavings fell down. His knuckles, due to excessive force, turned a terrifying pale blue-white, trembling slightly like withered branches in the wind, revealing the violent raging waves within his heart—those raging waves were frantically pounding against the dam of his imperial heart, ready to burst through at any moment!

Trash? Bookworm? Indulging in strange skills and petty tricks, useless for great tasks?

All previous deeply ingrained labels were now, in front of Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan's stunningly brilliant performance, torn to shreds, trampled into the mud, and burned to ashes!

Is this just talent in the Dao of Formations?

This Heart-Nature, calm as an eternal deep pool—in the face of a storm-like offensive, he didn't even frown!

This combat wisdom, precise to the millimeter and seemingly able to see through everything—every dodge was just right, every Formation landed in the most fatal position!

This bottomless, terrifying potential—how much more had he hidden?

None of it was like a series of heavy slaps, fiercely striking his face, and even more so striking his imperial heart that controlled everything, slapping him until his cheeks burned and his heart bled!

A strong sense of unease, as if things were completely out of control and sliding toward an unknown abyss, was like a cold venomous snake, suddenly coiling tightly around his heart, tightening and tightening, making him almost unable to breathe.

He forced the muscles of his cheeks to move, squeezing out a smile at Jian Xiaotian that was uglier than crying. That smile was as stiff as a mask, his voice dry and hoarse, like grinding gravel, each word difficult:

"Brother... Brother Jian, you flatter me. It's just some... insignificant tricks that cannot be brought to the table, just opportunistic, unworthy of the grand hall. I've made Brother Jian laugh."

However—his hand, deeply embedded in the armrest and trembling incessantly; his dark, uncertain eyes, deep within which churned horror, fury, and a trace of imperceptible coldness; his cheeks, slightly bulging from clenching his teeth—all completely betrayed how turbulent his heart was, and how... murderous intent was hidden within.

On the other side, Emperor remained silent from beginning to end, like a clay sculpture or carved wood, motionless.

But his gaze was like the most precise Magical Artifact, locked tightly onto Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan, not missing a single subtle movement or a single rise and fall of breath.

Watching the other party, under such violent offensive, still able to simultaneously and precisely control multiple basic Formations, dividing his mind for multiple tasks, as if using his own arm and fingers, flowing and natural as breathing or drinking water—no, even more natural than breathing!

In his eyes, a trace of unmaskable, deep amazement finally flashed, an amazement like a meteor in the dark night, flashing and passing, yet enough to illuminate the entire night sky.

"Dividing the mind into two, or even multiple parts... Ordinary Golden Core Cultivators need to focus their spirit and hold their breath just to control one basic Formation, and a slight carelessness would lead to a backlash; yet he can maintain several at the same time, and transform them at will, activating them with a thought, without any stagnation..."

Emperor whispered to himself, his voice barely audible, yet carrying a gravity that pierced through to the essence, every word carefully thought out:

"This child's Divine Soul power, its toughness, its subtlety, its degree of control... far exceeds his peers by more than ten times! No—twenty times, thirty times is also possible! This is a natural Soul for the Dao of Formations, a piece of uncut jade rarely seen in a hundred years!"

His gaze became even deeper, as if penetrating Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan's Physical Body, seeing a deeper essence, and that gaze carried a fervor of discovering a treasure:

"What is even more precious is not strength, but 'Dao'. His understanding of the Dao of Formations has long transcended the cage of 'technique' and touched the edge of 'Dao'—the Formation is not a tool I use; the Formation is me, and I am the Formation. Man and Formation become one, forgetting both self and object."

"Transforming Formations into one's own instinct, integrating them into every instant of battle—breathing becomes a Formation, walking becomes a pattern, wherever the gaze reaches, a Formation forms itself... This is the supreme Realm that a Formation Master pursues."

He paused slightly, his voice carrying a hint of respect that even he himself had not noticed:

"This child... is extraordinary. Truly extraordinary."

On the arena.

Long attack without success!

Repeatedly frustrated!

His own storm-like offensive, enough to tear an equal-level Cultivator to shreds ten times over, was actually resolved one by one by the opponent using these lowest-tier, most ridiculous Formations, as if it were child's play, even turning himself into a disheveled, stumbling mess!

Every punch was drained of its force by the Mud Swamp!

Every pursuit was disrupted by the Golden Light!

Every change in moves was slowed down by the Wind Binding!

It was like hitting a ball of cotton; using all his strength, but having nowhere to apply it!

It was like falling into an invisible giant net; the more he struggled, the tighter it wrapped around him!

"Ah—!!" The anxiety, suffocation, and humiliation in Third Prince Wu Huang's heart, along with the fury of being deeply provoked, were like boiling magma, finally breaking through the dam of reason, accumulating to the peak of eruption!