Chapter 559: . Injure me, and I'll spare your life

Book 559. Wound me, and I shall grant you life.

The arena plunged into an absolute, breathless silence. Lin

Time itself seemed to freeze entirely in this very moment.

Every gaze converged upon a single, solitary point.

It was a fist, held tightly within a massive hand of golden glass.

Salah's fist.

Every witness’s mind fell into a temporary, stunned stagnation.

They doubted the reality before their eyes, wondering if their past experiences were but a dream.

Salah, who had fused and comprehended the power of five laws, driven by fury and killing intent, had pushed his might to its absolute peak, delivering a peerless, terrifying blow that defied the understanding of an ordinary twelfth-level cultivator.

Yet it was caught by someone using only a single hand?!

Not a single ripple or wave was disturbed, as though...

A blazing, exploding nebula, just on the verge of unleashing an unparalleled storm of world-ending destruction across the cosmos, was in the next second swallowed cleanly by the deepest, darkest black hole with a soft rustle.

The massive contrast between before and after bred a sudden, unbearable, and profoundly absurd sensation in everyone's hearts.

Including Salah himself.

Salah, his ultimate strike blocked, stood frozen in place for nearly three full seconds.

His face bore a trace of utter blankness and bewilderment.

Fear and bewilderment soon gave way, for the master of that golden glass arm had completely emerged from the storm.

The brilliant platinum radiance had entirely receded into his form, replaced by another, even more magnificent and noble aura.

Every inch of skin, every strand of hair, even every single pore, seemed exquisitely sculpted by Heaven itself.

It possessed a breathtaking beauty that spanned across the galaxies.

Even his fingernails, though pristine, bore not the slightest hint of fragility.

Beneath every gleam of light, beneath every pattern, there seemed to hide a boundlessly majestic strength.

After breaking through to the eleventh level, he was manifesting his divine ability—the "Golden Glass Body"—for the very first time.

As for the exact height his martial path avatar reached now, even he himself was not entirely certain.

A million meters?

A million and a half meters?

Or perhaps two million meters?

Lu Sheng did not know.

But it no longer mattered.

He only knew that he was now incredibly resilient.

Resilient beyond anything he had ever known before.

So resilient that even he himself lacked absolute confidence that he could break his own form.

The last time Lu Sheng had manifested the "Golden Glass Body," he possessed only eighty thousand immortal cells within him.

Back then, this divine ability could already withstand the sharp edge of Qian Yu Shu's Daluo Qianjin Sword Formation, whose true combat power was equivalent to comprehending more than three laws.

And now, the number of immortal cells inside his body was...

Three hundred and thirty thousand!

An increase of a full two hundred and fifty thousand compared to before.

Even if each immortal cell could only grant him a mere thread of divinity.

Two hundred and fifty thousand threads of divinity piled together

Was enough to drive a heaven-turning, earth-shattering elemental transformation.

Furthermore, this transformation, for Lu Sheng, extended to every single aspect of his being.

Though Lu Sheng's height and stature were nearly identical to Salah's,

In the eyes of everyone looking on, it felt as though the former's figure was expanding infinitely, with vast shadows rising from behind him, swiftly swallowing Salah and everything else at his back.

"You may try once more..."

Lu Sheng gently released Salah's fist, looking at him with a calm face, and spoke:

"If you can but wound me,"

"I shall grant you life."

"Ugh—"

Salah's expression froze for an instant, before he was utterly swallowed by a rushing wave of shame and fury.

"Die!"

Salah roared low, countless orange star clusters spinning and vibrating violently around him.

Behind him, the grotesque monster totem with twelve eyes and a mouth full of octopus legs grew a fraction clearer.

This single punch...

In terms of might and majesty, was even superior to the strike he had delivered before.

"Boom!"

Salah threw the punch forward.

Directly blasting open a fan-shaped storm of orange fire in the void.

Countless star clusters exploded, and under the billowing pressure of the fist, the void crinkled loudly like a tattered cloth blown by a fierce gale, rippling with massive tears and folds.

"Die!"

Salah was clearly highly satisfied with the execution of this punch, an exaggerated expression surfacing on his sinister face.

It was a smile twisted beyond recognition—a grotesque amalgamation of cruelty, savagery, ferocity, exhilaration, and smug triumph—so exaggerated it sent shivers down the spine.

Yet as the tidal wave of energy he had unleashed slowly dissipated, revealing Lu Sheng’s figure within its fading wake, Sara’s grin froze mid-expression, his eyes dulling into vacant stillness.

*Click-click…*

Lu Sheng parted his lips slightly, gently flexing his jaw.

The left side of his face—the spot where Sara’s fist had struck with brutal finality—was now crisscrossed by fine, crystalline fissures, like shattered glass. But as he moved, those cracks sealed before the eye could fully register them, knitting together at an impossible speed.

When the last trace vanished, leaving his cheek flawless once more, Lu Sheng spoke two words, calm as still water:

“Continue.”

“Uh…”

Sara remained frozen in his punching stance, statue-still before Lu Sheng, utterly motionless for several long seconds.

Then—

His dazed gaze snapped back to life, but his voice tore out, warped by sheer disbelief:

“This… this is impossible?!”

…..Send Flowers..

Lu Sheng said nothing. He simply watched.

His irises, shifting from gold to obsidian, seemed to vomit forth shadows vast enough to blot out the heavens—swallowing the sky above Sara whole in an instant.

A terror unlike any he had ever known surged up from the depths of his soul.

He tried to crush it down—but failed. With a shriek, he lunged at Lu Sheng, wild, unhinged, throwing himself into a frenzy of strikes.

“It’s not possible! It *can’t* be!”

“Die! Just *die*!”

“DIE!”

“I’ll kill you—!”

Arms, legs, teeth—he used everything.

A Level Twelve warrior who had mastered five fundamental Rules—and wielded certain esoteric enhancements—unleashing such madness was a sight of true horror.

At least, that’s how it appeared to the onlookers.

Within a thousand-kilometer radius centered on Sara, no being dared remain.

Human martial artists and monstrous beasts alike were forced to retreat, step by desperate step.

The entire space was now choked, saturated, consumed—by swirling orange stellar currents, searing flames, and roaring torrents of raw power.

Even ordinary Level Twelve warriors couldn’t approach; the void itself had been shattered into primordial chaos, its hue turned sickly, formless.

Those from the Qing Flag Twenty-Times-Quantum Division could think of only one thing:

*Jump.*

And yet—beneath the insanity, something baffling persisted.

Amidst the storm of violence, a voice kept recurring—calm, unshaken, unnervingly serene.

Each time it sounded, it poured gasoline onto a raging inferno, driving Sara’s cries and assaults deeper into extremity, deeper into madness.

Until, finally, his voice vanished entirely—replaced by guttural, bestial roars and ragged, animalistic gasps.

And atop that incandescent vortex of orange flame and stellar fury, a monstrous totem coalesced: twelve eyes, a maw bristling with writhing octopus-like tentacles—distorted, grotesque, almost *alive*.

An aura of profound evil, ancient and insidious, flooded the very fabric of space and sky.

“ROOOOAR!”

At last—

A scream ripped free, utterly stripped of humanity.

Above the blazing inferno, the malformed totem *moved*.

Its mouth—lined with writhing tentacles—flared wide, unleashing a silent, world-shattering roar.

The malevolence in this realm spiked to its absolute zenith.

In that instant—

A primal dread, a soul-deep tremor, seized every human martial artist present.

Faces paled. Eyes locked, as one, upon the totem.

Cold sweat broke across their brows. Their bodies shook—not from fear alone, but from something far older, far darker.

“DIE!”

Long press any passage you love to save your thoughts.

Literature