Manhuang Realm – Arena of Might.
Han Wei stomped down. To countless eyes, the tiny black-cloaked figure was nothing more than an ant about to be pulped.
Though Lan An's earlier performance had been terrifying—defeating several Late and even Perfect Sixth-Turn experts with only Late Sixth-Turn cultivation—many had taken notice.
But compared to Han Wei? Still far inferior.
"Hmph, idiot!" Lan An sneered inwardly. Han Wei had been so easily tricked—treating him as an accomplice trying to gang up. Fine by him. Sooner or later they'd fight anyway. Might as well start now.
"You can die!" Hearing the "ant" dare insult him, Han Wei roared. His foot descended with even greater force—terrifying.
Seventh-Turn Body Cultivation power. Lan An naturally didn't dare underestimate.
He muttered:
"Rest Gate—Open!"
In that instant, every muscle in Lan An's abdomen hardened. All muscles across his body—arms, legs, bones, heart, smooth muscle—were strengthened. Explosive power surged within each fibre, begging to be unleashed.
Beneath the cloak, no one saw the change. Even if they did, few would recognise it as the long-lost Rest Gate of Eight Gates Escape Armor. Only the Giant Race displayed it obviously on their massive bodies. On a normal-sized human, the signs were subtle—unless one was deeply familiar with the art.
"Gentleman Demon Subduing Fist!"
Facing the descending foot, Lan An roared. From the ground, he punched straight upward—tiny figure versus giant. To onlookers—utterly laughable.
Adamantine Body at maximum. Fist turned pitch black. Rest Gate power surged. No hesitation—hard clash with Seventh-Turn Body Cultivation.
BOOM…
Han Wei's foot finally landed…
"He's dead!"
Crowd shook heads.
But instantly—eyes bulged to the limit.
The masked Giant Race woman on the stands cried out in shock.
The Giant Han protector, dozing in a corner, snapped his eyes open.
Before them: the tiny black-cloaked man stood with one fist raised—blocking Han Wei's heaven-piercing foot.
No matter how Han Wei ground down with all his might, the man held firm with one arm. Body straight as iron. Cloak billowing without wind. Like a nail the heavens couldn't crush.
RIP…
Flesh tore. Lan An's fist pierced Han Wei's sole. Giant drops of blood rained.
"How…?" Countless jaws dropped. The scene was too shocking—blood boiled.
"ROAR! Tiny insect! You dare wound the noble Giant Han Race?!"
Han Wei bellowed, voice shaking a corner of Giant Tyrant City.
Lan An smirked coldly. Before countless stunned eyes, he yanked his arm free—blood dyeing his black cloak crimson.
"Rest Gate—Explode!"
Muscles detonated with power. His "toothpick" arms grabbed one of Han Wei's toes—yanked.
BOOM BOOM…
The entire arena stood. Eyes nearly popped out. Collective gasp.
Ant toppled elephant.
Han Wei's colossal body crashed to the ground.
Some spectators pinched themselves—hoping it was a dream. Pain told them: real.
"YOU MUST DIE!"
Humiliation peaked. Han Wei flipped upright. Four massive scythe-blades appeared in his hands—space faintly tearing at their edges.
"Four Spirit-Rank weapons—Cleave Giant Blades! Han Wei is finally serious!" Ju A Man, having just repelled five opponents, watched gravely.
Either of these two—he wasn't confident against. But for the Man Stones to heal his clansman—he had to fight.
Han Wei's four blades spun like a meat grinder—sealing all escape.
But before Weakness Sight + Opening Gate, Lan An slipped through like an eel—finding the tiny gap between blades despite the murderous aura.
Four blades slammed down—arena split into four pieces.
Dodging the apocalyptic strikes, Lan An leaped. Great Heavy Sword smashed toward Han Wei's head.
Rest Gate at maximum.
"An ant dares?! Giant Han Blade Art!"
Han Wei sneered. Four blades spun into a whirlwind—perfect defence. No gaps. Even Weakness Sight found none. Han Wei's blade mastery was monstrous—same-realm opponents couldn't breach.
Too bad—he faced Lan An. Life-or-death fight—no holding back.
White Moon Soul Seizing Eyes glowed beneath the cloak.
"Emperor Soul Scripture – Second Soul Art – Soul Lock!"
Invisible soul force shot out—piercing the blade storm, instantly burrowing into Han Wei's forehead.
In that tiny moment—Han Wei's body froze. Soul stunned. Four blades stopped for a heartbeat.
"Found it!"
Gap appeared. Lan An slipped through. Great Heavy Sword smashed down.
BOOM.
Blood pillar erupted. Great Heavy Sword sank a third into Han Wei's skull.
"AAAAAAA!"
Han Wei regained senses—agony made him roll, clutching his head, blades flailing wildly.
Weaker fighters caught in the chaos—crushed or sliced into paste.
"Worthy of being a bull—still alive after that!" Lan An was genuinely surprised. So many techniques combined—only wounded Han Wei. Skull cracked—but life intact.
Adamantine Body, Rest Gate, Opening Gate, White Moon Soul Seizing Eyes, Emperor Soul Scripture – Soul Lock.
Still couldn't kill a Giant Han.
"Giant Han defence is terrifying. Normal Seventh-Turn would be dead or crippled from that strike!" Dan Mengji evaluated.
"Only way—explode the head or shatter the heart!"
Lan An's mouth twitched. Exploding that massive head wasn't easy.
"Jin'er, any suggestions?"
"Sorry, this battle involves a quest—Jin'er cannot advise!"
As Lan An pondered, the scene stunned the entire arena into silence. Only the masked Giant Race woman and Giant Han protector's pupils contracted violently.
That brief moment—Han Wei's blades had stopped as if frozen. Extremely bizarre.
They were battle-hardened—yet had never seen such a phenomenon.
Han Wei losing focus? Impossible. His blade art was perfected—same-realm foes couldn't breach.
Only possible explanation—the black-cloaked man's doing.
"So strange… how will A Man win?" The masked Giant Race woman worried—yet instinct told her this was good news?
The Giant Han protector's face turned blood-dark. After this fight—he would dissect every secret from that black cloak.
Unbeknownst to him, across the stands, a black-cloaked woman watched him with interest, full lips curving:
"If I use the Giant Race's Eight Gates to slaughter a Giant Han… that would be fun, wouldn't it?"
…