In short, he could “see” a person’s thread of fate.
What had happened in the past, what the future would hold—all of it was presented to his perception in the form of an abstract stream of information.
It wasn’t just seeing.
He could change it.
Of course, change came at a cost.
At his current level, exerting the full power of Great-Void Insight to interfere with the fate thread of an existence on his own level would likely consume more than half of his normal state’s energy and Soul Power.
But with the infinite Soul Power of Origin of Qi as his backup, and the restorative power of Dual-Perfect Hands as his guarantee, this consumption became almost negligible.
In fact, if he pushed Great-Void Insight to its limit, theoretically he could travel along the timeline to the past and the future.
The Eight Strange Arts.
Eight abilities.
Any single one taken out on its own had obvious shortcomings.
Origin of Qi could deconstruct energy but couldn’t defend against physical attacks; Spirit Binding and General Command could manipulate souls but had no offensive power itself; Great-Void Insight could alter fate but the consumption was immense…
But once the eight abilities coordinated with each other, complementing each other’s weaknesses, the resulting effect was an exponential leap.
Like a precise machine, each component alone was impressive enough, but assembled together, it became more like a nuclear reactor.
Yang Xing estimated his current comprehensive combat power.
The foundational strength of a normal 90th rank Titled Douluo, plus the all-around enhancement of the Eight Strange Arts.
Against a version of himself at the 99th rank but without the Eight Strange Arts enhancements, he might not necessarily win.
But…
He could put up a fight.
He could preserve his life, he could contend.
For Yang Xing, who had been a level-zero good-for-nothing for eighteen years, this conclusion alone was enough to send a thrill of excitement tingling across his scalp.
Right now, he just wanted to point at the sky and shout: Among my peers, I am invincible; against those above me, I can trade one for many.
Over two hours of testing concluded.
The central area of the Soul Hunting Forest, spanning over ten miles in radius, had been turned into a wasteland by his experiments.
Scorched earth, deep craters, solidified lava, bizarre vegetation half-reversed in time, translucent spectral Soul Beasts wandering about.
The entire area exuded a terrifying aura that made all living creatures instinctively want to flee.
In fact, from the very first moment Yang Xing began his tests, all the Soul Masters hunting in the entire Soul Hunting Forest had noticed the abnormality.
Those towering energy pillars, the continuous explosions, and the suffocating waves of Soul Power emanating from the central region led everyone to the same conclusion.
A terrifying high-level Soul Beast had emerged.
Run.
Run towards the forest’s edge.
Yang Xing had long noticed the commotion around him.
His Great-Void Insight had been in a passive sensing state since the tests ended, keeping track of the positions and movements of all living beings within a radius of several miles.
He paid no mind to those fleeing Soul Masters.
But there was one group moving against the flow.
They stopped at the periphery of his testing range, observing from a distance.
The leader’s Soul Power fluctuations were steady and profound, above the 60th rank, surrounded by over a dozen guards exuding a metallic aura.
Yang Xing reined in the Soul Power fluctuations he had released during testing and smoothed his wind-tousled hair.
With a single step.
Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate’s spatial displacement had no warning signs.
Whoosh!
The air wave accompanying his arrival stirred up a gust of wind, making the black-armored guards’ armor and clothing flap loudly.
All the guards drew their weapons in the same instant.
Blades, swords, spears—over a dozen weapons pointed at Yang Xing in unison, the grating sound of metal particularly sharp in the night.
The guards’ Soul Rings manifested at their feet—two-ringed, three-ringed, the highest among them only four-ringed.
But their hands were trembling.
Because the pressure emanating from this youth who appeared no older than seventeen or eighteen standing before them made even breathing difficult.
That feeling couldn’t be described by rank.
It was the instinctive fear of a creature facing its natural predator.
The middle-aged man leading them did not draw his weapon.
He wore ornate dark-patterned robes, had a square face with slightly graying temples, and a neatly trimmed short beard under his chin.
His eyes looked exceptionally sharp under the moonlight, but now that sharpness was mixed with heavy gravity.
He looked at Yang Xing.
Young.
Too young.
But having lived over fifty years, he had seen his share of masters who maintained youthful appearances.
A youthful face didn’t necessarily mean true youth; it could also belong to an old monster who preserved their looks, and the more terrifying their strength, the more likely.
This speed, this presence.
At least Soul Saint level.
And that utterly unannounced spatial displacement just now.
And that oppressive feeling that made him, a 69th rank Soul Emperor, feel breathless.
It was highly possible this was a Soul Douluo, even higher than a Soul Saint?
The middle-aged man took a deep breath and raised a hand, pressing it downward.
“Put away your weapons.”
The guards hesitated for a moment but obeyed the command, slowly lowering their weapons.
The middle-aged man took a step forward, clasped his fists, and bent his waist fifteen degrees.
His posture was respectful but not servile, the standard etiquette of a person of status facing a higher-level existence.
“I am the City Lord of Suotuo, Barak Horn.
69th rank Soul Emperor, Martial Soul: Lion-Patterned Battle Shield.”
He raised his head, his gaze sincere as he looked at Yang Xing.
“Might I ask your esteemed name, sir?
Is there an important matter that brings you to Suotuo City?
If there is any need, Horn is willing to be of service.”
Yang Xing looked at this City Lord before him.
To be honest, he had originally just wanted to find someone to ask where the Martial Soul Hall in Suotuo City was, to first show his identity and borrow some money.
And now one had delivered himself to his doorstep.
Saved some trouble.
The corner of Yang Xing’s mouth quirked up slightly.
He wasted no words.
Raising his right hand, palm facing upward.
Nine Soul Rings manifested from his feet.
Two yellow, two purple, four black, one red.
That light illuminated the expressions on every face around.
Barak Horn’s face paled.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.
Nine.
Nine Soul Rings.
Titled Douluo.
And not just any Titled Douluo—a terrifying one with four ten-thousand-year Soul Rings and one hundred-thousand-year Soul Ring.
A dry swallowing sound escaped his throat.
His legs seemed to have their strength sucked away as his knees heavily struck the ground.
The dozen-plus black-armored guards behind him reacted even faster.
The sounds of weapons slipping from hands and clattering to the ground came in a series, followed immediately by the uniform, dull thuds of knees hitting the earth.
“Your Eminence, Titled Douluo!” Barak’s forehead pressed against the ground, the tremor in his voice impossible to suppress.
“P-pardon Horn for failing to recognize your eminence!
I did not know Your Eminence had graced Suotuo City with your presence, I failed to welcome you from afar, I beg for your forgiveness!”
Yang Xing looked at the prostrate group before him.
To be honest, the feeling was indeed quite satisfying.
But on his face, he merely waved a hand dismissively.
“Rise.
No need for such grand courtesy.”
Barak trembled as he stood up, his knees covered in dirt, but he didn’t bother brushing it off.
His entire posture became three parts shorter than before, his back hunched, his eyes not daring to meet Yang Xing’s, only staring at his chin.
Yang Xing withdrew his Soul Rings.
“City Lord Barak, is it?” His tone was casual, as if chatting with a neighbor.
“Here’s the thing.
I’m new to Suotuo City.
Ran into a bit of trouble on the road, lost my Spirit Coins.”
He spread his hands.
“Could you arrange a place for me to stay?
And lend me some Spirit Coins to use?”
Barak’s mind whirled twice.
Titled Douluo.
No money on him.
Asking him for a loan.
What did this mean?
It was equivalent to a human-shaped nuclear bomb capable of leveling the entire Suotuo City at any moment, politely saying to you, “Hey, lend me some pocket change.”
Dare you say no?
“Your Eminence jests!” Barak’s face was piled with a smile uglier than crying, his bow deepening further.
“Your Eminence gracing Suotuo City with your presence is the greatest honor for our city!
Lodging, money—whatever Your Eminence requests, Horn will spare no expense, even if it costs me everything!”
Yang Xing nodded with satisfaction.
“Then I’ll trouble you, City Lord Barak.”