Spirit Hall.
"Gulp... Gulp..."
The remaining seven Titled Douluo of the Spirit Hall instinctively closed ranks, their expressions solemn. No longer did they dare to surround Chen Xiaoming as they had before.
Especially the two Titled Douluo at Rank 92, who now felt the urge to retreat.
Though they were indeed Titled Douluo of the Spirit Hall, reaching this level had not come easily.
If Chen Xiaoming could kill a Rank 92 Titled Douluo in a single strike, it meant he could eliminate them just as effortlessly.
To be cut down like weeds—neither of them was willing to suffer such a fate.
They could die for the Spirit Hall, for its future and glory, but not in such a meaningless manner.
Chen Xiaoming's gaze occasionally flickered toward them, making them feel even more unsafe.
What a disgrace! When had Titled Douluo ever been slaughtered like mere fodder?
Bibi Dong and Golden Crocodile Douluo exchanged glances, realizing that Chen Xiaoming's strength far exceeded their expectations. With such power, a mere numbers advantage was useless.
"All those below Rank 95, withdraw!"
Her cold command rang out. The remaining warriors were still needed for the Spirit Hall's future, and allowing them to be cut down meaninglessly was something neither Bibi Dong nor Golden Crocodile Douluo could accept.
As soon as she spoke, three figures instantly retreated, landing below.
Chen Xiaoming did not intervene—two Rank 92 and one Rank 93 were too weak. Even if they stayed, they wouldn't survive a single punch. They weren't even qualified to test the power of his full set of soul bones.
He turned his gaze to the remaining powerhouses of the Spirit Hall—one Rank 95, one Rank 96, two Rank 97, and two Rank 98. Six formidable Titled Douluo remained.
Chen Xiaoming's brows furrowed slightly as he glanced at the Rank 95 soul master with visible displeasure.
The Rank 96 one was acceptable, but a mere Rank 95, who hadn't even stepped into the realm of Super Douluo—why was he still here?
"You. Leave."
His voice was calm, but his right hand pointed directly at the Rank 95 Titled Douluo, his tone ice-cold.
The Rank 95 Douluo was stunned. He had been fully prepared to defend against an attack, yet instead of an assault, he was simply dismissed.
He turned slightly toward Bibi Dong, only to see her frown in thought before nodding in agreement.
His face immediately turned red. He had spent decades cultivating, and though he wasn't the strongest on the continent, few could surpass him.
Yet today, he had been dismissed by a mere twenty-something youth.
A dignified Rank 95 Titled Douluo—denied even the chance to fight.
The humiliation cut deep. Compared to this, he almost envied the Rank 92 Douluo who had been cast aside earlier—at least they were weak.
His gaze turned vacant. Why was he even here?
Had he come only to serve as cannon fodder, to be discarded at an opponent's whim?
Bibi Dong, however, cared little for his thoughts. All she felt was an uncontrollable surge of fury.
Her hatred for Chen Xiaoming had reached its peak.
As the Pope of the Spirit Hall, she had labored for years, only to see everything crumble before her eyes. The prestige and foundation built over generations—all shattered by a single man.
"Gulp... What is Teacher Chen doing?"
Fatty Ma Hongjun swallowed nervously. Chen Xiaoming's actions looked just like when he was ordering food. Could it be that at a certain level of strength, even Titled Douluo were nothing more than menu selections?
Dai Mubai, Oscar, and the others exchanged glances, choosing to remain silent. As expected, only true powerhouses could act in such a manner.
Not far away, Ning Fengzhi was at a loss for words. A single person intimidating the entire Spirit Hall—was this the true power of a Limit Douluo?
Hovering mid-air, Chen Xiaoming still appeared dissatisfied after forcing one more to withdraw. However, using these remaining ones as a warm-up wasn't a bad idea.
"Are you ready?"
As his words fell, space fluctuated faintly, silver light flickering. In the blink of an eye, Chen Xiaoming vanished. The Azurewood Dragon Spear in his hand disappeared, replaced by his clenched fist.
A simple punch.
Silver light enveloped his figure, and the power of his full set of one-hundred-thousand-year soul bones surged. Without activating any soul skills, he relied purely on raw physical strength.
"Boom!"
A deafening crash followed.
The lone Rank 96 Titled Douluo shot backward as if struck by a cannonball. His chest caved in, jagged bone fragments piercing outward. His body was a mangled mess of blood and flesh.
Blood splattered through the air, and his form resembled a crimson meteor as he crashed into the ground below, carving out a five-meter-wide, two-meter-deep crater in the granite surface. Smoke and dust billowed. His fate—uncertain.
Bibi Dong, Golden Crocodile Douluo, and the others paled in horror, their expressions frozen as they stared at Chen Xiaoming.
She had barely been able to follow his speed before, but the sheer strength he had just displayed filled her heart with despair.
"His power has grown again..."
Sword Douluo Chen Xin, watching from below, murmured to himself. That momentary burst of speed and explosive force had increased at least fivefold compared to before.
Thinking back to how Chen Xiaoming had sought soul bones earlier, Chen Xin realized—he must have completed his full set.
Not only were Bibi Dong and the others shocked, but even Chen Xiaoming himself was taken aback by his own punch.
What was this? Just one punch and it was over? Was his strength really this terrifying?
A full set of one-hundred-thousand-year soul bones, combined with his bloodline's power infused within them—his strength had increased several times over. Yet, just how strong had he become?
Now, after nearly obliterating a Rank 96 Titled Douluo with half his strength, he finally had a rough estimate.
"What a glass cannon!"
Shaking his head, his excitement waned. Titled Douluo excelled in soul power and soul skills, but their physical endurance was lacking.
Even Qian Renxue, who had ascended to godhood, could be pierced through the heart by Guanyin's Tears. Clearly, even gods lacked formidable physical durability.
With his current power, he truly doubted anyone present could withstand a full-force punch.
He had originally planned to use them to gauge his strength, but now it seemed pointless.
They were all like fragile children before him.
A sense of disinterest filled his heart.
Couldn't someone put up a real fight? He didn't want to be One Punch Man!
A deep loneliness welled within him.
As the saying went—life was as lonely as snow.
Or as a certain song put it—
Being invincible is so, so lonely! Being invincible is so, so exhausting!
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