In the very center of the spectator stands sat Wang Ai, one of the Ten Masters. Deep within his murky old eyes, a fire of rage was burning.
As it turned out, he had sent word last night expressing his desire to "summon" the two juniors, Ian and Zhang Chulan. He had prepared a literal Hongmen Banquet and had even invited Lu Ci, intending to put pressure on the two brats.
In the end, both of them had completely ignored him. He had waited and waited, but no one showed up.
Having occupied a high position for a long time, Wang Ai viewed their behavior as nothing less than a public provocation against him and the dignity of the Wang family. He had already made up his mind: today, he would use his grandson Wang Bing's hands to make that boy named Ian suffer.
Ideally, he wanted the boy crippled.
When that happened, he would be able to effortlessly pry the cultivation methods out of the brat's mouth.
At the arena entrance, Wang Bing strode onto the competition stage with his head held high, amidst the respectful or curious whispers of the surrounding outcasts. His face wore its usual arrogance.
However, deep within those eyes, there seemed to be a hidden trace of imperceptible anxiety and confusion. It was as if something invisible was interfering with him, making his already dim-witted mind appear even slower, more violent, and more irritable.
The referee read the rules as a matter of routine and then raised a hand, signaling the start of the match.
Almost the instant the referee's voice fell, Wang Bing snapped his hand up, pointing at Ian. His tone carried an extreme, distorted sense of self-inflation as he issued a direct command.
"Hey! You, the one practicing Xingyi Quan!"
"This young master has taken a liking to your abilities!"
"If you know what's good for you, immediately tell me every word of your secret methods!"
"Then get your ass off this stage and surrender!"
He paused, seemingly feeling that such charity wasn't enough.
"This young master is in a good mood today. If you're quick about it, I might even consider letting you follow me."
"Guarding the gates of our Wang family in the future would be considered your good fortune!"
He seemed completely unaware of how absurd and laughable his words sounded to everyone else. He was like an idiot living in his own world.
Facing these wild words, Ian stood his ground, expressionless. He looked at the Wang Bing before him calmly, as if observing some peculiar creature.
There was no anger in his gaze, only curiosity. After all, he had seen many morons, but this was the first time he had encountered such a novel type of "wise" individual.
Seeing that Ian didn't speak—and that even his expression didn't change at all—Wang Bing's chaotic thoughts underwent a strange kind of self-suggestion. He actually interpreted Ian's total silence as submission and fear.
"Hmph! At least you're sensible!"
He nodded to himself, a sickly look of triumph appearing on his face.
"It's good that you know how to be afraid!"
"Then hurry up and surrender! Don't waste this young master's precious time!"
However, Ian still gave no reaction. He even turned his body slightly, his gaze seemingly passing over Wang Bing to look toward Wang Ai in the stands.
That look seemed to be saying: 'Is your grandson sick?'
This complete disregard was more stimulating to the mentally unstable Wang Bing than any verbal taunt. The triumph on Wang Bing's face froze instantly.
In its place was a mixture of extreme humiliation, celestial rage, and a trace of a pleasurable emotion that he himself couldn't understand. He suddenly screamed, his voice piercing.
"You dare to ignore me?!"
"You actually dare—!" The string of his sanity snapped completely.
Wang Bing lost control entirely.
He no longer followed any patterns or cared about strategy. Like a demon possessed, he frantically began pulling everything he could use out of the magical artifact bag given to him by his grandfather.
Magical artifacts wreathed in Qi flames.
Talismans shimmering with runic power.
He threw them all at Ian in a chaotic heap. Simultaneously, he activated Spirit Dispatching, and a thick, sinister aura surged wildly around him. All sorts of venomous attack methods poured out.
These attacks were aimed haphazardly; some even collided in mid-air, their energies clashing and canceling each other out prematurely. Wang Bing paid no heed to this, merely screaming hysterically.
"Die! Die for me! Go to hell!"
Facing this hurricane-like chaotic assault, Ian didn't even move his feet an inch.
A faint golden halo flashed across the surface of his body for a split second. Every attack that touched this halo—be it a toxic artifact or a vicious curse—was like a clay ox entering the sea.
They vanished silently into nothingness.
The spectator stands were already dead silent. Everyone was stunned by this utterly bizarre scene.
The Wang family's methods were cruel and treacherous, but Wang Bing's current state was more like that of a complete madman who had lost his mind.
On the high platform, the various members of the Ten Masters looked at the out-of-control Wang Bing and then at the expressionless, dark-faced Wang Ai, their expressions varied. They all thought to themselves that they should pay more attention to the psychological development of their own juniors after going home, lest they produce a "genius" like Wang Bing.
On the arena, with his attacks continuously failing, Wang Bing's eyes slowly turned crimson and bloodshot. He suddenly reached into his robes, where his final and most powerful trump card was hidden.
It was the "Soul-Shaking Thunder Pellet" specifically prepared for him by his grandfather to target outcasts!
A flash of destructive, mutual-destruction-like mad joy crossed his eyes.
"You forced me! You all forced me!"
"Go to hell! Everyone, go to hell!"
He frantically threw all the Soul-Shaking Thunder Pellets in his hand toward where Ian stood!
BOOM—!!!
In the next moment, the pellets were instantly ignited by Qi, emitting a blinding purple-black light. The power of the chain explosions far exceeded any previous attack.
The entire arena floor, paved with solid rock, was blown to pieces in an instant!
The terrifying shockwave, mixed with dust and violent, chaotic energy fluctuations, surged toward the stands! The outcasts in the front rows jumped back to avoid it.
Wang Bing himself was violently thrown back by the force of the explosion. He rolled wretchedly on the ground a dozen times, his body covered in several deep, bleeding wounds that showed bone.
But he ignored it, struggling to crawl up from the ground. He stared with wide, bloodshot eyes at the center of the arena, where dust swirled and energy raged.
A strange sound, somewhere between a wild laugh and a sob, escaped his throat.
"Dead... Haha... That bastard is definitely dead!"
"I'll see who else dares to defy me, who else dares to ignore me, Wang Bing! Haha! Hahahaha!"
At this moment, his spirit had completely collapsed, falling into a sort of frenzied delusion.
The explosions gradually subsided, but the thick dust hovering over the arena and the chaotic energy fluctuations did not dissipate for a long time. Through the dust, one could vaguely see that the arena had been reduced to rubble.
The entire venue was deathly quiet; one could hear a pin drop.
On the high platform, seeing the arena destroyed, the Old Taoist Master's wrist jerked, and he pulled out several strands of his beard.
"That little brat! I'm definitely charging Wang Ai for the arena repairs."
On the other side, Wang Ai's face was dark. His withered hand tightly gripped the armrest of his chair.
The old fossil was very angry.