It wasn’t fear.
Honestly, with his current strength, a single Silence Talisman from the Heaven-reaching Record could silence everyone within a hundred-meter radius until dawn.
But he didn’t do it.
The moral upbringing from nine years of compulsory education in the 21st century had instilled in him a basic sense of public decency.
Yang Xing pursed his lips, suppressing the remaining excitement in his throat.
Instead, he silently mimed a series of combination punches in the darkness, using only his breath.
No.
He needed to find a place without people, and incidentally test his own strength.
His gaze shifted upward.
That hole was still there.
A masterpiece left by the wind blades he had sliced out in bird form that afternoon, moonlight now poured through the opening, spilling over him.
Yang Xing pushed off with both legs.
His body shot out like an arrow released from a bowstring, silently darting through the broken hole.
Night wind rushed into his robes.
The panoramic view of Suotuo City rapidly shrank beneath his feet.
Those dimly lit streets and alleys, the orderly rows of rooftops, the torches in the hands of patrolling soldiers on the city walls—all became tiny points of light.
Yang Xing didn’t stop.
He continued to ascend.
One hundred meters, three hundred meters, five hundred meters, one thousand meters.
Until the entire Suotuo City became a chessboard the size of a palm beneath his feet, until that dark, sprawling Soul Hunting Forest outside the city, stretching to the horizon, lay fully spread out under his gaze.
Yang Xing hovered at a thousand meters high.
Moonlight shone upon him, night wind stirred the hem of his clothes.
Beneath his feet was the void, above his head was the starry river.
Eighteen years.
He had always looked up at the sky.
Now the sky was beneath his feet.
He took a deep breath, leaned his body forward, and flew at extreme speed toward the direction of the Soul Hunting Forest.
The Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate’s control over space allowed his flight speed to far exceed the limits of Soul Masters at his level.
Diving down from a thousand meters, the enclosing walls at the forest’s periphery appeared as nothing more than a thin line in his eyes.
Within a few breaths, the walls flashed past beneath his feet, and he was already deep in the central region of the forest.
Landing.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Yang Xing didn’t hesitate.
He swung his right hand.
“Whoosh!”
A visible arc of wind blade swept out from him as the center.
Wherever it passed, ancient trees as thick as a man’s waist were cleanly severed at their roots as if by an invisible giant blade, crashing to the ground.
Following closely was a wave of crimson fire, instantly incinerating the fallen trees to ashes.
Within two breaths, a two-hundred-meter radius around him was cleared into an open space.
The ground was as smooth as a mirror, not even a single root remained.
Yang Xing stood in the center, cracking his neck.
The space is sufficient.”
He first tested the Origin of Qi.
This ability, occupying the first Soul Ring slot, was the foundation for all his abilities.
If its Soul Power supply had an upper limit, everything that followed would be a castle in the air.
Yang Xing began to output Soul Power.
Not a trickle-like output.
It was opening all floodgates, an unreserved torrent.
With both palms facing the sky, two energy columns mixed with wind, fire, lightning, and ice shot upward, exploding into a sky full of luminous rain in the night sky.
The light illuminated the forest canopy for hundreds of miles around, continuously tearing the night into daylight.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Five minutes.
Such a continuous torrent of Soul Power would have long been depleted for any Soul Master at his level.
But the Soul Power reserves within Yang Xing’s body showed no sign of decrease.
The Origin of Qi was devouring the Spiritual Qi between heaven and earth at a terrifying efficiency, converting, replenishing, and cycling it.
Endless and boundless.
It was as if his body had connected to an invisible ocean—no matter how much he drew from it, the sea level would not drop in the slightest.
Yang Xing withdrew his hand and nodded in satisfaction.
Infinite mana bar.
Confirmed.
Next was another core ability of the Origin of Qi: deconstruction.
He was in no hurry to find a Soul Beast.
First, he sensed the fluctuations of energy around him and locked onto a powerful surge of Soul Power about three kilometers to the northeast.
Thousand-year level.
A bird of prey.
Yang Xing’s figure flickered, and the spatial displacement of the Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate transported him directly before his target.
It was a giant eagle, pitch-black all over, with wings spanning nearly seven or eight meters wide, perched atop the remnants of an ancient tree.
Yang Xing’s sudden appearance instantly put it on high alert.
A fierce glint flashed in its sharp eyes as it opened its beak and let out a piercing screech.
In the next moment, black wind blades shot out from the flapping of its wings, carrying Soul Power sharp enough to cut through steel, aimed straight at Yang Xing’s face.
Yang Xing stood motionless.
The moment the wind blades touched the surface of his body, it was like a drop of ink falling into clear water.
The black wind blades began to decompose upon contact with him—visibly and rapidly.
The condensed, aggressive Soul Power was stripped away layer by layer, reduced to the most basic, non-aggressive, dissipating Soul Power, brushing past his cheeks like a gentle breeze.
Not even the hem of his clothes stirred.
The Soul Power membrane of the Origin of Qi, constantly enveloping his entire body, automatically deconstructed any energy-based attack that came into contact with it at its most fundamental level, returning it to its most primitive state.
The black eagle unleashed seven or eight wind blades in succession, each dissipating silently an inch before Yang Xing.
Yang Xing stretched lazily.
“Alright, alright, go home and sleep.”
With a casual wave, a mental suppression from Spirit Binding and General Command enveloped the black eagle. This chapter is updated first at novelping.com.
Under this pressure, the soul of the Thousand-year Spirit Beast instantly crumbled, letting out a mournful cry as it flapped its wings and fled in panic.
Yang Xing did not pursue.
His objective had been achieved.
The next two hours were the most exhilarating of Yang Xing’s eighteen years of life.
Using Spirit Binding and General Command, he pulled the lingering soul from the Soul Ring of a Thousand-year Spirit Beast he had just slain.
Under his will, that wisp of lingering soul condensed into a translucent spirit wolf, crouching obediently at his feet like a dog.
With Dual-Perfect Hands, he made a cut on his left arm, deep enough to reveal the bone.
Then, covering it with his right hand, a faint golden light flashed, and flesh and bone visibly regenerated and healed.
Two seconds later, his arm was as good as new.
He even severed his entire left hand.
The moment blood spurted out, he showed no panic.
The light of Dual-Perfect Hands enveloped the severed area, and a new hand grew from the cross-section—muscles, bones, blood vessels, and skin regenerating layer by layer.
It took no more than five seconds.
Reviving the dead, regenerating flesh and bone—literally.
As long as he wasn’t obliterated to the point of leaving nothing behind, he could achieve near-limitless self-repair through Dual-Perfect Hands, empowered by the endless Soul Power provided by the Origin of Qi.
Testing the offensive capabilities of Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate and Heaven-reaching Record was even more effortless.
Sea of flames burning forests, thunderbolts splitting the earth, spatial tears, and subtle time adjustments.
He even attempted to use the time-manipulation ability of Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate to reverse a tree he had burned back to its growing state.
The sight of tender sprouts emerging from the ashes left Yang Xing stunned for half a second.
He also tested the physical body enhanced by the Six-Treasury Immortal Thief.
A single punch struck the ground, causing the surface within a ten-meter radius to shatter and collapse.
That sheer physical force made him feel as though his fist was encased in a layer of steel.
Moreover, the Six-Treasury Immortal Thief granted him a distinct perception.
He could sense that his vitality had nearly been locked in place the moment he acquired this ability.
The rate of cellular aging had slowed to an almost imperceptible level, and his physical body had almost ceased to degenerate.
A flawless, immortal body.
If nothing unexpected happened, even without becoming a god, he could live for thousands or tens of thousands of years.
What did this mean?
Yang Xing’s mind suddenly turned to a critical question.
In the worldview of Douluo Continent, gods could not directly descend to the mortal realm.
For true gods to interfere in the mortal world, they had to pay a tremendous price, and their strength would also be affected—they wouldn’t be as powerful as they were in the divine realm, and they might even suffer backlash from the divine realm’s rules.
In other words, if he slacked off and didn’t become a god, simply staying put in Douluo Continent…
No being on the entire continent could pose a threat to him.
As soon as this thought emerged, Yang Xing couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth curl upward.
Finally, there was the Great-Void Insight.
This ability had always been the one he was most curious about before his transmigration.
In the original work, Gu Jiting used it to alter his own causal threads to evade pursuit, but the specific principles were always vague.
Now, having personally acquired it, Yang Xing finally understood its essence.
Dimensional observation and interference.