Despite the injuries, his back was straight and his eyes were cold.
Yu Luomian looked at Lu Ping and spoke in a deep, somber voice, each word carrying the weight of absolute confidence.
"I don't know who gave you the guts to challenge me," he said slowly, lightning crackling faintly across his skin. "But you are far from capable enough."
His gaze shifted slightly. He pointed—not at Lu Ping—but past him.
"You are not the same as that monster."
The one Yu Luomian was referring to was Jiang Mo.
Jiang Mo was still standing upright.
His posture was rigid, almost unnatural, as if held together purely by will. His clothes were torn, soaked with rain and blood alike. Lightning burns and deep gashes covered his body, and his aura was fluctuating erratically, like a candle flame on the verge of extinction.
Yet he did not fall. Lu Ping's pupils constricting sharply.
He understood that Jiang Mo was already at his limit.
Every breath Jiang Mo took was forced. Every second he remained standing was paid for with unbearable pain. His body had long exceeded what it should have been able to endure.
And yet—Lu Ping could feel it.
As long as Jiang Mo stood there, unmoving, silent, refusing to collapse, he was a deterrent.
Like a blade hanging above Yu Luomian's head, unseen but keenly felt.
But Lu Ping's fingers slowly clenched into a fist.
'Yu Luomian will find out soon…' he thought grimly, rain mixing with blood as it dripped from his knuckles.
'That Jiang Mo is only dragging out time.'
And once that time ran out— Lu Ping's gaze darkened.
While he gathered forces from the Twilight Hermit Order to launch this attack, Lu Ping had been painfully aware of one fatal weakness—
They did not possess anyone capable of truly contending with a Titled Douluo head-on.
That was why this operation had been meticulously planned from the very beginning.
Elder Ghost Douluo would take the lead, suppressing and isolating Yu Luomian.
Maybe other Titled Douluo including Poison Douluo, Porcupinefish Douluo, and Snake Lance Douluo will also participate in this and would control the battlefield, sealing off escape routes and cutting off reinforcements.
And as the final safeguard—
Mighty Lion Douluo, an existence from the Elder Hall, a Level 98 powerhouse and the Fourth Worshipper, would be present as a hidden blade.
A lineup like that… Even a Titled Douluo should not have been able to escape and was foolproof.
Or at least, it was supposed to be.
'Then why…'
Lu Ping's heartbeat grew erratic as he prepared to force his body to move once more, flames flickering weakly around his limbs.
'Why has none of them arrived yet?'
An inexplicable sense of unease crept into Lu Ping's chest.
Something was wrong, very wrong.
—
"He… He… He! Ha…!"
A hoarse, broken laugh suddenly echoed across the battlefield.
It came from Jiang Mo.
The man who was barely standing.
His body trembled violently as he laughed, blood spilling from his mouth and staining his teeth red. His shoulders shook, yet somehow, his spine remained straight, as if held up by something far stronger than muscle or bone.
The laughter was ugly, Unrestrained and almost mad.
Everyone turned to look at him in confusion.
Rain washed over Jiang Mo's blood-soaked face as he slowly lifted his head. His eyes—dim moments ago—now carried an eerie, knowing light.
He smiled.
A smile so bloody it sent chills down the spine.
"Did you not…" Jiang Mo wheezed, coughing once before forcing the words out, "…see HER?"
The battlefield fell into a strange silence.
Yu Luomian frowned deeply, an ominous feeling stirring in his heart for reasons he could not fully articulate.
"Looks like the injuries have finally destroyed your mind," Yu Luomian said coldly. "I'll put you out of your misery."
His aura surged.
Behind him, his eighth soul ring began to shine with blinding intensity, lightning roaring as if responding to its master's will.
"Eighth Soul Skill—Dragon Lightning Pincer!"
Two massive lightning constructs burst forth, shaped like the jaws of a colossal dragon. Each arc of lightning was thick as a tree trunk, crackling with destructive power .
The jaws closed in—toward everything in their path.
Lu Ping's pupils shrank violently.
He braced himself, his sixth soul ring flashing instinctively as he prepared for the incoming impact. At the same time, the injured Soul Douluo beside him forced his trembling body to respond, his own eighth soul ring beginning to glow faintly as he attempted a desperate, last-ditch defense.
But—The expected collision never came.
Instead—
Ptooochi…
A soft, wet sound echoed as the lightning jaws froze mid-air.
Yu Luomian's eyes widened.
For the briefest moment, he stared at his hands in disbelief.
They were gone.
Both of them—neatly severed, the cuts so clean they looked almost unreal.
Blood sprayed outward, splashing onto the rain-soaked ground.
"ARRRGH—!!"
Yu Luomian's scream tore through the battlefield, raw and agonized, drowning out even the thunder.
At the same moment—
Jiang Mo's laughter grew louder.
"He… he… ha… ha… ha…!"
The laughter echoed strangely, as though overlapping with another presence.
A figure stepped out of nowhere.
Qian Renxue had been there all along, Yet no one had seen her.
No one—except Jiang Mo.
Her figure was just there, but no one except Jiang Mo seemed to acknowledge her existence. Golden hair fluttered gently despite the raging storm, her expression calm—almost indifferent.
Her eyes were cold as she raised a single hand.
"Fourth Soul Skill—Dark Gold Terror Claw Bear Claw."
Space tore apart and a dark-golden claw tore through reality itself, slashing downward with surgical precision.
Chi—!
Another spatial rending cut flashed past.