Squelch—!
The sound of flesh being cleaved echoed again and again.
Fresh wounds continued to open up across the Titan Giant Ape’s colossal body. Each gash was laced with a layer of black, corrosive matter that steadily eroded the beast’s inner strength—and, more critically, halted its regenerative ability.
This was the power of Lin Fan’s soul skills.
Feel Pain: a technique that infused soul power with the essence of annihilation drawn from the void of the cosmos, latching onto every attack and relentlessly stripping power from the enemy while crippling their recovery.
Rend: a piercing amplification technique, allowing Lin Fan's strikes to tear through even the most formidable of defenses—like the Titan Giant Ape’s magma-forged armor.
The mighty beast was now breathing heavily, each gasp more labored than the last. Its once-vast strength drained away like sand through an hourglass, leaving behind only a profound sense of exhaustion and weakness.
It felt as though its very essence was being hollowed out.
Though none of the injuries were fatal on their own, their cumulative toll was immense. Sharp pain radiated from every part of its body, tormenting both flesh and spirit.
Blood poured freely from the wounds, dyeing the Titan Giant Ape’s fur a deep crimson. Its once-proud form was now covered in gore.
The ape’s eyes, dim and unfocused, scanned its surroundings cautiously—but no matter how hard it looked, Lin Fan was nowhere to be seen.
And yet, the relentless phantom strikes kept coming—each one stealing a bit more of its life.
A cold aura of death began to settle around the beast.
“No! Human… we can talk… please, spare me!”
The Titan Giant Ape’s voice trembled with desperation.
But Lin Fan gave no reply.
His presence flitted invisibly through the air like a shadow stitched from night. Each ghostly movement brought another slash, another wave of agony.
It was a slow execution.
Fear—true, primal fear—gripped the Titan Giant Ape. It tried to run, but its legs wouldn’t obey. Its strength was gone. It could only lie there like a beast on the butcher’s block.
“ROOOOAR!!!”
One final, defiant howl tore from its throat… but its eyes already reflected defeat—and death.
Thud.
The Titan Giant Ape collapsed, its massive body crashing to the ground. A dark, oily sheen wrapped around its form like a burial shroud.
Lin Fan reappeared, finally stepping out of the void.
He glanced down at the now-lifeless beast and exhaled softly. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed his Martial Soul and Zerg armor. His face was pale and haggard.
“If it had held on any longer, I might not have made it…”
This combo of soul techniques had pushed Lin Fan to his limit. His limbs ached with fatigue—his entire body felt like it had been drained dry.
He shook his head slowly.
“Still too weak...
Even taking down a 200,000-year soul beast leaves me like this.
How can I hope to face Qian Daoliu… Bibi Dong… or a million-year soul beast?”
HUMMMM—
A dense, blood-red light began to rise from the Titan Giant Ape’s corpse.
A massive crimson soul ring—ten meters in diameter—floated into the air. It radiated a savage aura, pulsing with violent intent.
And faint traces of golden patterns shimmered around the ring’s edges—proof that the Titan Giant Ape had been on the verge of evolving to an even higher life form.
Lin Fan barely spared it a glance.
He walked past the soul ring and approached the corpse.
There, half-buried in a pool of blood, was a gleaming, pristine white soul bone, emitting an intense radiant light.
Lin Fan’s eyes lit up.
“A hundred-thousand-year soul bone… This is what I need.”
Unlike soul rings, which added techniques and spirit power, a soul bone enhanced the body itself—and this one came with a soul skill equivalent to a full-power strike from a 100,000-year soul beast.
If he remembered correctly, the soul skill embedded within the Titan Giant Ape’s bone was something like…
Titan Sky Cannon.
Without hesitation, Lin Fan picked up the soul bone and stored it away. He cast a final glance at the battlefield—and at the blue crystal that had once pulsed beside the beast.
Then he turned and left.
Sunset Forest
Rustle—
A ripple of sound passed through the underbrush. The air shimmered slightly—and Poison Douluo (Dugu Bo) stepped out of the shadows into the heart of the Sunset Forest.
He looked up at the gloomy sky, then sighed.
“Third Elder… don’t blame me for this.
Every man for himself, that’s the law of survival.
Farewell.”
A dim green light flickered in his snake-like pupils.
He turned back, giving one last look at the quiet woods behind him.
If he hadn’t personally experienced it, he never would’ve believed it—just a few more steps inward, and you would cross into a completely different realm.
Shaking his head, Poison Douluo turned toward the forest edge.
But—
He suddenly froze.
His body tensed. His pupils narrowed.
“...It’s too quiet.”
The Sunset Forest, usually filled with beast cries and insect calls, was now utterly silent.
Unnaturally silent. Like sound itself had been cut off.
Dugu Bo’s eyes narrowed. Something was wrong.
His spiritual sense flared—and he looked upward.
His expression shifted drastically.
That… wasn’t the sky.
Layer upon layer of enormous, alien beasts blotted out the heavens—dark, grotesque forms circling overhead, wings overlapping like a massive organic shield that smothered all sunlight.
“Soul beasts…?”
He wasn’t sure. These weren’t like anything in the Douluo Continent’s records. Still, his instincts screamed danger.
A bone-chilling aura washed over him, raising goosebumps.
“What…?”
He spun around—but saw nothing.
And yet, that sensation remained: as if countless unseen eyes were locked onto him from every direction.
Dugu Bo’s glowing green eyes narrowed.
“Who’s there? Hiding in shadows and illusions—why not come out and face me?”
Silence.
The forest remained deathly still.
But Poison Douluo could feel it. Something… someone was watching. Waiting.
“Still won’t come out?”
He took a step forward, preparing to unleash his soul power.
“As expected of a Title Douluo. Keen senses.”
A voice suddenly echoed behind him.
Startled, Poison Douluo spun around.
From the spatial rift behind him, a young man stepped out—Lin Fan.
Behind him stood Davis, unharmed.
“You?!”
Dugu Bo’s eyes narrowed in surprise.
He had already written off everyone as dead when he’d left. That these two had emerged alive was… unexpected.
Still, he reasoned they must’ve escaped during the chaos of the Third Elder’s battle with the Titan Giant Ape.
But—what he had done…
Could not be revealed.
That thought triggered a surge of killing intent.
His gaze toward Lin Fan and Davis grew cold.
But Lin Fan simply chuckled and clapped his hands.
SKREEEEEEE—!!
A sharp, piercing cry split the air above.
The flap of enormous wings followed.
A massive black shape descended from the sky, its wings buzzing like a thunderstorm.
And on its back—stood a humanoid figure cloaked in shadow.
****
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