"Flaws."
When Sword Douluo Chen Xin uttered those two words, Tang Hao laughed.
It was a cold, disdainful laugh—soaked in fury and disbelief, as though the very absurdity of the situation amused him.
Who was Tang Hao?
The youngest Titled Douluo on the continent.
The man who once forced back three Titled Douluo from Spirit Hall alone.
The man whose strike caused the fall of the previous Supreme Pontiff, Qian Xunji.
And in his hand—
the Clear Sky Hammer, the number-one Tool Spirit in the world.
The Hammer Arts he cultivated were the peerless techniques personally created by his grandfather, Tang Chen—
a super Douluo who once dominated the continent, whose hammer remained undefeated for a lifetime.
This was the foundation of the Clear Sky Sect.
The pride carved into the bones of every Clear Sky disciple.
Yet now—
A Sword Douluo dared to stand before him and say—
His hammer was full of flaws?
How laughable.
How arrogant.
"Fine."
Tang Hao's voice was hoarse, squeezed out from the depths of his throat, carrying a metallic, blood-rust scent.
"You want to die so badly?"
"I'll oblige."
"Sword Douluo, open your dog eyes wide and watch carefully."
"Watch how the 'flaws' you speak of… crush you into pulp!"
The instant his words fell—Tang Hao moved.
The ground beneath his feet collapsed with a thunderous boom, and his body shot out like a cannonball loosed from its restraints.
There was no flourish. No tricks. No fancy technique.
Only pure, overwhelming dominance.
"Clear Sky Nine Absolutes—Charge!"
He did not swing the hammer.
He became the hammer.
The hammerhead pointed forward, handle trailing behind, man and hammer merging into one—
a black meteor tearing open the night sky.
Terrifying spirit power condensed at the hammerhead, compressing and distorting the air as it sliced through space.
A high-pitched shriek echoed with every inch it advanced.
This was no longer a hammer.
This was a moving mountain.
A plunging meteor.
Its weight and force were enough to severely injure any Titled Douluo of the same realm.
Ning Fengzhi's expression changed drastically.
This attack wasn't just strong.
It wasn't even meant to probe.
This was a killing strike, born from pure rage.
"Uncle Jian! Be careful!"
He instinctively called out, the eight-treasure glazed pagoda glowing, ready to force a boost onto Sword Douluo—
However.
Facing the world-shattering blow, Sword Douluo's face remained completely calm.
He even had the leisure to extend a hand and gently push Ning Fengzhi outside the battlefield.
Then—
He simply watched.
He watched the black hammer streaking toward him.
Its trajectory, in his eyes, could not have been clearer—
Slow.
Rigid.
Obvious.
And… naïve.
Locked onto by Tang Hao's killing intent, Sword Douluo finally moved.
He did not dodge.
He did not draw his sword.
He simply raised his right hand, joined his fingers into a sword-seal, and tapped lightly at the air.
"Om—"
The Seven Kill Sword flew out on its own.
A streak of cold light arced through the sky in a strange, profound path.
It did not attempt to clash head-on with the Clear Sky Hammer.
That would be the height of stupidity.
Under everyone's shocked eyes, the Seven Kill Sword dipped—
Just half a meter.
That half-meter—
Perfectly avoided the massive hammerhead blazing with spirit power.
Then the sword tip angled upward.
Like a viper baring its fangs—
It targeted Tang Hao's abdomen.
The simplest, cleanest, most lethal line.
Tang Hao's pupils constricted violently.
A cold numbness raced from his soles to his skull.
He understood instantly.
If he kept charging, his hammer might hit Sword Douluo.
But before that—
This sword would pierce him through.
Mutual destruction?
No.
He would die first.
In that split second, Tang Hao let out a furious roar.
He twisted his waist with brute force, attempting to halt his own momentum—
"Boom!"
The explosive recoil erupted beneath his feet, gouging a deep trench in the ground.
His qi and blood churned violently, a sweetness rising in his throat—
he nearly vomited blood on the spot.
One move.
Just one move.
His proud Clear Sky Nine Absolutes—
broken in an instant.
But Sword Douluo did not give him even a heartbeat to recover.
Just as Tang Hao's old force fled and new force had yet to rise—
Sword Douluo's figure flickered.
Like a ghost, he had already closed in.
He finally grasped the returning Seven Kill Sword.
A flick of the wrist.
The sword tip stabbed toward Tang Hao's throat.
Fast.
Blindingly fast.
There was no spirit power flare, yet the sword intent alone felt sharp enough to cut destiny and lock life and death.
Tang Hao's soul trembled.
He had no time to think—
instinct alone forced him to swing the Clear Sky Hammer wildly in defense.
It was his only option.
But Sword Douluo was no longer the man he once was.
A faint disappointment flickered in his eyes.
Another flaw.
Just as Tang Hao swung his hammer—
Sword Douluo's blade changed direction.
The thrust at the throat suddenly dipped.
His wrist turned.
The sword lay horizontally—
Sliding perfectly between Tang Hao's forearm and the hammer's path.
Tang Hao froze.
The hammer stopped mid-air.
His entire posture was twisted and ugly.
Cold sweat slid down his temples.
He stared at the sword before his arm—
Silent.
Still.
But he knew.
If he pushed even an inch further—
His arm would be severed cleanly.
Whether he could hit Sword Douluo was uncertain.
But his arm—
would definitely be gone.
Another choice.
A humiliating, almost maddening choice.
Advance—lose an arm.
Retreat—lose the battle.
From afar, Ning Fengzhi stared, dumbfounded.
His mind had gone blank.
Was this… the Sword Dao bestowed by the Senior?
No roaring spirit abilities.
No earth-splitting explosions.
Only pure skill.
Extreme precision.
Every move a killing strike.
Every action pointing directly at a flaw.
This wasn't combat.
This was suppression.
Absolute suppression.
Dimensionality reduction.
"You…"
A beast-like growl tore from Tang Hao's throat, his eyes blood-red.
"What kind of technique is this?!"
Sword Douluo withdrew his sword, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked at Tang Hao—
who had completely lost his earlier ferocity, left with only rage and helplessness.
The disappointment in his gaze was naked.
"It's not a technique."
"You simply have too many flaws."
Too.
Many.
Flaws.
The four words struck Tang Hao like red-hot nails hammered into his skull.
He laughed.
A crazed, feral laugh—half despair, half fury.
"Good."
"Very good."
"Then let you witness the true might of the Clear Sky Sect!"
"Let's see—"
"If your broken sword can withstand this attack that gathers all 'flaws' into one!"
Boom—!
Tang Hao unleashed his full strength.
"Ring Explosion!!!"
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