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In the next instant, the body of the Lion Douluo swelled several times larger, transforming into a colossal golden lion.
A radiant brilliance emanated from his entire form, making him seem like a ferocious beast resurrected from ancient times.
The pressure of his Martial Spirit True Body was overwhelming, and the aura of a level ninety-seven Titled Douluo was unleashed without reservation.
Before this towering beast, Lan Minghua appeared as small as a fledgling chick, yet his presence pressed down on the giant, overshadowing it completely.
"Heh, so what if you're big? That only makes you a larger target!"
No sooner had his words fallen than the heavens erupted in a blinding flash of sword light.
A razor-sharp sword aura tore downward, descending like divine punishment.
The first stroke of sword qi plummeted like a meteor from beyond the sky, carrying boundless pressure and the power of annihilation as it slashed downward with a thunderous roar.
Even before the sword aura landed, the surrounding air split apart, shrieking with an ear-piercing hum.
The Lion Douluo gazed skyward, pupils shrinking sharply, retreating beneath the protection of his Martial Spirit True Body.
Clang!
Yet before such sword qi, his True Body was ripped apart like fragile parchment.
The golden fur of the massive lion scattered into the void under the brilliance of the sword light, while the blade pierced directly into the Lion Douluo's body, bursting blood into the snow.
His colossal form, along with his human body, was hurled violently into the ground.
With an explosive boom, the earth split into a bottomless trench, snow and ice spraying in all directions as though the land itself trembled in pain.
The Lion Douluo spat a mouthful of blood, struggling to rise shakily from the snow.
At this moment, his once-proud arrogance had been utterly shattered, leaving only fear clinging tightly to his heart.
Lan Minghua sneered down at him, refusing to grant even a moment to breathe, as a second sword aura descended in relentless pursuit.
This second stroke surged forth like a silver dragon, roaring as it hurtled toward the Lion Douluo.
Where it passed, the air was torn open, forming a vacuum channel visible to the naked eye.
The lion's left forelimb was severed as though it were nothing more than a brittle twig.
Not only that—at the very same instant, the Lion Douluo's own left arm was sliced clean off.
"Argh!"
The searing pain tore a guttural roar from his throat, filling him with both rage and unwillingness.
He attempted a counterattack, but the agony crippled his movement, and terror quickly spread through his mind.
While hesitation gripped him, the third sword aura swept forth like a silver ribbon stretched across heaven and earth, brimming with boundless sharpness and killing intent.
The blade carved across his abdomen, rending open a wound so deep the bone gleamed through.
Blood gushed like a waterfall, dyeing the snow a ghastly crimson.
The leftover might of the stroke did not fade; it cleaved a distant glacier in half, the mountain collapsing with a thunderous roar as if the heavens themselves quaked.
The Lion Douluo's eyes filled with bloodshot veins, his lips spilling endless streams of scarlet.
"No... impossible! Aside from the Grand Worship, how could the continent still harbor someone this powerful?!"
Despair surged in his heart as though the entire world had collapsed upon him.
Never had he imagined himself in such a miserable state, unable even to muster resistance.
But Lan Minghua's expression remained utterly devoid of emotion. With a flick of his finger, the fourth sword aura shot straight for the lion's skull.
Even before it struck, the Lion Douluo felt his scalp numb, death's shadow looming heavily over him.
He twisted desperately aside, barely avoiding instant death, but the sword still sheared away half his ear, leaving a bloody streak.
"Ahh!"
The pain forced from him a shrill, wretched scream, saturated with terror and despair.
The backlash of the sword swept outward, rolling the snow into a massive tidal wave that devoured everything nearby.
The lion's vision began to blur, his legs buckled, and he collapsed heavily to his knees in the snow. Around him, only the howling of the storm remained.
Then came the fifth sword aura, descending like a silver pillar piercing through the heavens, laden with inexorable pressure and destruction.
The blade pierced straight through his True Body, drilling into the Lion Douluo's back and severing his spine.
The once-mighty lion fell prone like a beaten cur, blood gushing from his mouth, reduced truly to a broken beast with a shattered back.
The sixth stroke swept across the battlefield, shaped like a silver crescent moon, radiating unending sharpness and killing intent.
It severed the lion's right hind limb cleanly at the root.
He collapsed in the snow, utterly unbalanced, his body smashed helplessly into the earth.
Despair now completely filled his eyes. The resentment and fury in his heart dissolved into nothing but bottomless fear.
He tried to struggle, but his broken body could no longer respond. All he could do was watch helplessly as the next blade drove through his chest.
The seventh sword aura—the final stroke—was aimed directly at his heart.
Like a silver meteor tearing through the sky, the blade descended, nailing itself into the earth as if heaven itself decreed his execution.
"No!!!"
Sensing what was to come, the Lion Douluo let out a soul-tearing roar, his voice saturated with unwillingness and despair.
But he could not move. He could only watch as the sword aura pierced his chest.
Pfft!
The sword impaled his heart, blood spraying in a crimson burst.
His body convulsed once, then crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
Even in death, his eyes still carried traces of terror and unwillingness. His golden True Body scattered into motes of light that dissolved into the storm.
The blizzard raged on, leaving only Lan Minghua's solitary figure amidst the devastation.
Casting a cold glance at the corpse, his voice remained icy and detached:
"So this is all the Worship Hall of Spirit Hall amounts to."
Thus fell the Lion Douluo, Fourth Worship of the Spirit Hall.
Lan Minghua lifted his gaze deliberately toward a certain location, then turned and departed with casual grace, as though none of the carnage had been wrought by his hand.
Yet the shattered landscape of the frozen forest, along with the three corpses of Titled Douluo, bore grim testimony to the chaos just wrought.
It was not until fifteen minutes later that two figures finally dared to emerge from the distance.
A sly, delicate voice followed soon after.
"That man truly acts with impunity... even the ninety-seventh-ranked Fourth Worship has fallen to him."
The speaker was Chrysanthemum Douluo, Yue Guan.
He and Ghost Douluo had been dispatched the very day after the Lion Douluo's party left the Spirit Hall, under Bibi Dong's command—ostensibly for a mission, but in truth to shadow the three elders.
Ghost Douluo, staring at the devastated landscape before them, felt a chill seize his heart. In a hushed tone, he said, "Yue Guan, we need to return and report to the Supreme Pontiff at once. If we run into that man, our fate won't be any better."
At his words, Yue Guan shivered, nodding rapidly before the two made their way back toward the Spirit Hall.
They had not come to lend aid, only to confirm the final outcome.
And now that the truth was laid bare, they had no reason to linger.
Meanwhile, Lan Minghua hovered above Zhu Zhuqing and Meng Yiran, casting a glance at Yue Guan and Ghost Douluo's retreating forms but choosing not to intervene.
"So it was them—Chrysanthemum and Ghost. Unexpected that they survived. Since they did not act, let them spread the name of the Heavenly Dragon Sect far and wide."
No sooner had he landed than Zhu Zhuqing could not hold back her anxious question:
"Master, what about Oscar and the others?"
"Rest assured, they are fine—and they will remain so. First, I'll help you two find suitable spirit beasts. Then, we'll rejoin the others."
At his words, Zhu Zhuqing finally breathed in relief. After all, the last time her master had said the same, Xiao Wu had indeed been unharmed.
With that, Lan Minghua began helping Zhu Zhuqing and Meng Yiran search for appropriate spirit beasts.
At the same time, deep below, Oscar and Dugu Yan had plummeted into the bottomless depths of a frozen abyss.
Though they both landed within the chasm, they were separated in different locations.
Oscar shivered violently in the biting cold, forcing his eyes open to behold the frozen world around him.
"Wh-where... where is this?!"
Just as confusion clouded his mind, a crystalline chime rang out—clear and sharp, like the sound of colliding icicles.
Lifting his gaze, Oscar discovered a cluster of ice silkworms writhing, each one glowing faintly with an eerie green luminescence.
(End of Chapter)