Chapter 86 — The End, Ren Wokuang's "Saint Moon Syndrome" Strikes Again
"Whew… that was smooth."
Ye Ling exhaled lightly, a smile tugging at his lips.
"No wonder it was a sixth-tier demon… and a Lord-class one at that. Even though the absorbed spirit energy didn't all come at once, this one alone gave me a hundred points of inner spirit power."
"That brings my total to around two thousand two hundred. Counting my external energy too, even without amplification, that's equivalent to the level of a true sixth-tier powerhouse."
"Perfect."
Feeling the liquid spirit energy coursing within his body, Ye Ling's eyes glimmered with excitement. For him, there was no joy greater than feeling his power ascend.
But he didn't bask in the satisfaction for long.
Celebrating was meaningless—fighting was what mattered.
The Golden Dragon King's bloodline within him was still far from fully fused, and only relentless combat could hasten that process. For the Golden Dragon lineage, battle was the purest and fastest way to evolve.
Without hesitation, Ye Ling raised his Golden Dragon Spear once more. His eyes burned with ferocity, his aura roared like a storm, and he plunged straight back into the fray.
Time blurred.
Half a day passed.
Then a full day.
It was the deadline Wang Yuanyuan had mentioned earlier—one full day of battle.
And what a day it was.
From dawn to dusk, the three of them had slain demons with near-insane fervor. Even the veteran soldiers defending the fortress couldn't compare to their slaughter rate.
When the time finally ended, the three returned to the walls, drenched in sweat and blood.
Along the way, Wang Yuanyuan couldn't stop glancing at Ye Ling, a mixture of admiration and disbelief clouding her expression. She had been holding back a question the entire day.
Now, at last, she asked it.
"Ye Ling… are you really human?"
Ye Ling paused mid-sip from his water flask, blinking at her in confusion. "What kind of question is that? Of course I'm human. You think I'm a demon?"
"You know that's not what I meant." Wang Yuanyuan sighed helplessly. "Your stamina and ability are inhuman. Cai'er and I both needed to stop and rest multiple times, but you… you've been fighting non-stop for an entire day. Don't you ever get tired?"
She sounded half frustrated, half impressed.
Ye Ling chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Ah, so that's what you meant."
He raised his hand, and with a flash of golden light, the Golden Dragon Spear appeared. "This spear can devour. It absorbs energy from the enemies I kill—refilling my spirit and body as I fight. That's how I can keep going without rest."
Wang Yuanyuan blinked, momentarily speechless.
Then she rolled her eyes dramatically. "I give up. I really give up."
"You're impossible to compare with. You're a monster, Ye Ling."
Her tone carried resignation rather than anger—she had finally accepted it.
She wasn't abandoning her drive to compete, but deep down she knew it would take a long time—maybe a lifetime—to even approach his level.
Ye Ling laughed lightly. "Just average."
It was at that moment that Ren Wokuang approached from afar. His usually calm face looked unusually serious—but there was a faint glint of excitement in his eyes.
He stopped before them, deep in thought.
"Palace Lord Ren Wokuang," Wang Yuanyuan said respectfully. "Here are the three merit recorders. We're returning them now."
She handed him all three devices—hers, Cai'er's, and Ye Ling's.
Ren Wokuang accepted them wordlessly at first, his expression unreadable.
But then, as he glanced down at the recorded results, the corners of his mouth twitched.
And just like that—his Saint Moon Syndrome flared up again.
Ren Wokuang nodded slightly, then began to review the data within the three merit recorders.
Moments later, his brows shot up. His expression froze for a few seconds before twisting in disbelief.
"These numbers… are downright monstrous."
He turned to Ye Ling, still half-stunned. "Is this really the endurance level of a boy only thirteen or fourteen years old?"
Not only had Ye Ling slain a Golden-Pattern Twin-Blade Demon Lord on his own, but he had fought continuously for an entire day without faltering. The number of demons he had killed was equivalent to the tally of an entire battalion.
Ren Wokuang scrolled further through the records, muttering under his breath.
"Five thousand… he actually killed five thousand."
He blinked again, just to make sure he hadn't misread it.
Five. Thousand.
Normally, a hundred-man battalion, fighting all day, would at best take down three to four thousand demons—five thousand only if everything went perfectly.
And Ye Ling?
He had done it alone.
An entire battalion in one body.
Terrifying didn't even begin to describe it.
Truly, a once-in-a-generation talent.
Ren Wokuang's hands itched. His infamous Saint Moon Syndrome was flaring up again—the chronic urge to recruit any genius he laid eyes on.
He couldn't resist anymore.
"Ye Ling, that's your name, right?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.
"Yes, Vice Palace Master Ren," Ye Ling replied politely, curious as to where this was going.
Ren Wokuang nodded, his eyes gleaming. "You're strong. No point denying that."
Then he got straight to the point. "Interested in joining the Warrior Temple?"
"From what I've seen today, you're a natural-born fighter—a perfect warrior. What do you say? Stay here in the Southeastern Fortress with us. Fight side by side, cut down demons together."
He didn't bother dressing it up. No honeyed words, no lengthy persuasion. Just an honest offer, warrior to warrior.
The other two were caught off guard.
Wang Yuanyuan sighed and gave Ren Wokuang a helpless look.
Good grief.
You really can't help yourself, can you?
Recruiting right on the battlefield?
Cai'er, meanwhile, looked on with quiet curiosity. She wanted to see how Ye Ling would answer this time.
After all, her grandfather—Saint Moon himself—had once extended the same offer. And Ye Ling had rejected it without hesitation, his refusal firm and absolute.
She doubted his answer would be any different now.
And sure enough—
"I'm sorry, Vice Palace Master Ren," Ye Ling said with a polite smile. "But I'm doing well in the Knight Temple. I don't have any plans to join the Warrior Temple. Thank you for your kind offer."
He bowed slightly in respect.
For someone like Ren Wokuang, bluntness was best. Warriors appreciated directness—not politicking.
Ren Wokuang stared for a moment, then chuckled, shaking his head with a hint of regret.
"That's a pity."
"If you had stayed in the Warrior Temple, I have no doubt you'd become another Radiant Sword God in time."
He sighed wistfully, rubbing his chin. His Saint Moon Syndrome finally subsided… for now.
(End of Chapter)
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