Chapter 4481 — Turning Defeat into Victory

The final and most devastating strike of the Raging Sand Thousand-Blast Fist—the Thousandfold Blast—hinged on the controlled collision of over a thousand grains of sand conjured from demonic qi, and it was this collision that produced its terrifying power. The angle, the position, the speed, and the force all had to be grasped to perfection; the slightest miscalculation in any one of them would bring the whole endeavor to ruin.

The difficulty of such a feat hardly needed stating. Wu Baoliang considered his own cultivation talent to be exceedingly high, and yet even he had only barely grasped the knack after decades of devoted, bitter training—only then had he managed to successfully cultivate a move as astounding as the Raging Sand Thousand-Blask Fist.

For anyone else—even the most heaven-blessed prodigy—to think of mastering the Raging Sand Thousand-Blast Fist overnight was nothing but a fool's dream, utterly impossible.

And yet, in the very next instant, that soft cry from Wei Zhao within the giant firelight opposite him overturned Wu Baoliang's entire worldview. The thing had even imitated this step...

"Blast!" The moment Wei Zhao's voice fell, layer upon layer of thunderous explosions erupted from within the giant firelight, so astonishing in their power that they rivaled—even surpassed—those of Wu Baoliang, the original master of the technique.

In that instant, the black qi and howling sand on one side and the giant firelight on the other burst forth at the same time. The aftershocks and shockwaves of their collision swept across the entire Demon-Cold Plaza in an instant, flinging a great many spectators who could not keep their footing clean off the ground and plunging the scene into utter chaos.

At the same moment, with a resounding crack, the arena platform—carefully reinforced by multiple protective formations—simply collapsed, reduced in a trice to a field of rubble.

An uproar swept the crowd—not because the platform had caved in, but because the duel had at last been decided. Wu Baoliang's black qi and howling sand could no longer withstand the towering firelight opposite, which only grew more formidable by the moment. In the space of a few short breaths his forces crumbled like a collapsing mountain and were swallowed up into nothingness.

"Impossible! No—" Wu Baoliang could not even get out a full sentence before the violent impact of the towering firelight blasted him clean off the stage, sending him tumbling several dozen zhang away, his whole body scorched black—a more wretched, bedraggled sight than words could describe.

A moment later, the dazzling, heaven-piercing firelight gradually dispersed, and within the ruins of the arena platform Wei Zhao's figure slowly emerged, wreathed in the lingering radiance like a fire god descended to the mortal realm.

Perhaps because he had just unleashed the Fury-Fire Thousand-Blast Fist, Wei Zhao's bearing was now utterly unlike his usual calm detachment—it had turned fiercely domineering. When his gaze swept slowly across the crowd, even someone like Hai Wuliang dared not meet his eyes. His presence was overwhelming beyond all measure.

"I declare the Skypillar Escort Agency the victor, and they may proceed to challenge the next opponent!" Amid the silence that had fallen over the whole assembly, the presiding judge was the first to recover and announce the result.

Only then did the crowd shake off their shock one after another, and the expressions on their faces were a sight to behold. Cheng Haonan, Long Kuiba, and Hai Wuliang in particular—those who had been so sure Wu Baoliang would make short work of Wei Zhao—now wore the ugliest faces of all, unable to produce a single word for a long while.

Qi Wenmo and the others, by contrast, erupted in earth-shaking cheers. Before Wei Zhao had stepped back onto the stage, they had already braced themselves for defeat; in their eyes, so long as Wei Zhao himself came to no serious harm, this outing would count as a success. Who could have imagined that Wei Zhao would prove so heaven-defying as to crush the man with his own ultimate technique?

Wei Zhao stood amid the ruins of the platform, his gaze at last coming to rest slowly upon Wu Baoliang. The man had indeed been blasted clear and cut a rather wretched figure, but he was still far from being gravely wounded or dead.

Toward scum like Wu Baoliang, who had exhausted every last shred of decency, Wei Zhao clearly had not the slightest intention of holding back. It was simply that this was his first time unleashing the Fury-Fire Thousand-Blast Fist; managing to perform it smoothly at all was already quite good. He could not yet fully command this newly created technique—neither its power nor his timing was quite there yet.

"A pity." Wei Zhao shook his head faintly. Failing to put the thing down for good in one blow did leave him somewhat regretful, but it hardly mattered. He straightway called out in a clear voice toward the panel of judges: "I choose to challenge the Dragonboat Escort Agency."

Another wave of uproar. The spectators below could not help feeling that today had been well worth the trip—not only had they witnessed a heaven-defying duel between two extraordinary Gold Core-stage masters, but the moment before, Wu Baoliang had been riding high, ready to trample the Skypillar Escort Agency into the ground, and in the blink of an eye it had all been reversed. This kind of instant comeuppance was always the most eagerly devoured gossip in the taverns and teahouses.

Qi Wenmo and the others had no objection to Wei Zhao's decision. Though they were somewhat worried whether he could hold out and keep challenging, if any of them had possessed such strength, they would have made the same choice.

Strike while the iron is hot, and finish a foe while he is down—the Southern Continent's seas had never been a place for mercy or righteousness, and this was, besides, a long-hated, deeply resented enemy. If they did not seize this chance to stamp him out, endless trouble would surely follow.

By contrast, the faces of the Dragonboat Escort Agency's people turned far grimmer—especially Long Kuiba and Cheng Haonan, who were grinding their teeth in hatred. Even now they could not accept reality: Wu Baoliang, whose strength rivaled that of a mid-stage Nascent Soul expert, had actually lost to Wei Zhao?

"What do we do?" Long Kuiba looked at Cheng Haonan. So firm had been his belief in Wu Baoliang's invincibility that he had never once anticipated such a situation, and for the moment he had no idea how to respond.

"There's nothing to be done about it—I'll have to go up myself." Cheng Haonan watched Wei Zhao on the platform with a cold, sinister expression. He had meant only to borrow another's blade, but now there was no help for it; circumstances forced him to take the field in person. To avenge the death of his son—a hatred no ocean could wash away—he would accept it even if it meant being called to account for it afterward!

"Very well, then I'll leave it to you, Deputy Chief Cheng." Long Kuiba nodded. On paper they were both peak Gold Core-stage masters, but Cheng Haonan's strength was even a cut above Wu Baoliang's; sending him out would surely mean no margin for error.

"Wait—I'll do this myself. I was careless and underestimated him a moment ago, but this time I will most certainly slaughter this wretched thing!" At that moment the bedraggled Wu Baoliang suddenly rose and came over, speaking through gritted teeth. Though he looked thoroughly wretched now, judging by his steps and bearing at this moment, he still had some fight left in him.