"Ugh… ugh—ah…!"
After another violent spasm, the body suddenly froze.
When her head lifted again—
The holy radiance vanished.
The malevolent chill returned.
Rakshasa God was back.
Her face twisted with confusion, suspicion, and unfiltered rage.
"Angel God?!
You old hag who should've died ten thousand years ago—why is YOUR soul in MY body?!"
Just then, she noticed Qian Daoliu taking one hesitant step toward her.
Her purplish-black eyes narrowed sharply.
"What are you staring at? Keep looking and I'll dig your eyeballs out!"
Qian Daoliu: "…"
His step halted mid-air.
After watching this woman switch personalities faster than a Sichuan opera face-change, Qian Daoliu silently took two steps back.
Can't fight.
Can't provoke.
Can only pretend to be furniture.
The rest of the hall was dead silent.
They watched blankly as the woman in the center—
began twitching like a high-frequency vibrating massage chair.
"Get out! This is my body!"
The sacred voice erupted first—her left hand pointed at her own nose, furious.
Before anyone could process that—
Her expression twisted into an evil grin.
"Yours? You fart! I got in first! It's mine!"
Her right hand slapped her left cheek.
"Slap!"
The crisp sound echoed through the entire restaurant.
Then—
"You dare hit me?!"
"You don't like it? Hit me back!"
"Ahhhhhh! I'll kill you!!!"
With that scream, the body devolved completely.
Her left hand grabbed a fistful of her own purple hair—
And yanked with murderous force.
"Hiss—!!!"
A scream burst from her throat, her face distorting from the scalp-ripping agony.
Angel God's counterattack!
"You crazy old hag! Let go! It hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS!"
Rakshasa God shrieked, thrashing about.
Qian Daoliu let out a breath of relief—
Maybe his ancestor had the upper hand—
But he relaxed a second too early.
Because—
Rakshasa's struggles suddenly stilled.
"Heh… you want to play dirty?"
Her sinister voice oozed with madness.
"Fine.
Today I'll show you the TRUE meaning of shameless."
Her right hand rose…
Her fingers formed a strange shape—index and middle raised slightly apart.
Angel God: "?"
What technique is this?
Some forbidden evil move?
One second later—
She understood.
And immediately wished she hadn't.
PFT.
A sticky, disgusting sound echoed in the hall.
Before the audience could even react—
Rakshasa God's right index finger—
With terrifying accuracy—
PLUNGED DEEP INTO HER OWN LEFT NOSTRIL.
There was force.
There was angle.
There was brutality.
It was…
A God-level version of "Thousand Years of Pain."
Only the target had migrated—
From the buttocks to the nose.
The nostril, that innocent, narrow passageway, was ruthlessly invaded—
its inner walls scraped by a foreign intruder.
"WAAAAH!!!"
Angel God's scream shattered heaven and earth.
Rakshasa God sneered:
"That's it? I'm not done!"
The finger began spinning.
Digging.
Scraping.
Plowing.
Renovating the entire nasal interior.
Angel God howled:
"AaAAaAAAAH! RAKSHASA! YOU LUNATIC! LET GO OF ME!!"
The left hand finally let go of the hair in agony.
Rakshasa cackled.
"Pain? NOW you feel pain? Too late!"
"Come on! Let's hurt each other!"
Before her laughter ended—
Her left hand flew up with lightning speed.
And—
Dug brutally into her OTHER nostril.
Perfect symmetry.
Elegant technique.
A true masterpiece.
The body before them, both fingers jammed deep into both nostrils, flailed wildly left and right, twitching like a possessed marionette performing a freestyle epilepsy breakdance.
"You let go!!!"
"You let go first!!!"
"I'll count to three—two—one—let go!!"
"You think I'm stupid?!"
Two furious divine voices bickered from one mouth like quarreling fishwives.
Qian Daoliu's eyes reddened with despair.
A single tear slid down his cheek.
Ancestor… our Qian family's dignity is gone… completely gone today…
Lin Feng, leaning on his recliner, mouth twitching nonstop, felt the urge to unsee this entire scene.
He had witnessed many things in his shop—
Douluo fighting over skewers,
Pontiffs acting spoiled,
Super Douluo competing for part-time jobs—
But two Gods picking their own nostrils?
This was a historic first.
Just when the nostril war reached an absurd peak…
"YOU STINKING OLD WOMAN! I'M DONE! I'M EXPLODING WITH YOU!!!"
Rakshasa suddenly shifted all her divine sense downward.
And then—
In a move that defied all logic—
Her right foot swung at an impossible angle—
And tripped her own left foot.
The technique:
Self. Trip. Technique.
Qian Daoliu's soul left his body.
"Ah!"
With a short shriek—
She toppled instantly.
Her right foot tripped her left foot—
And she fell.
Hard.
THUD!!!
The back of her head collided with the solid floor, echoing through the entire hall.
Silence.
Her body lay sprawled on the ground, motionless—
Except for the hands still stuck in both nostrils, trembling faintly.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three—
"AaaaaaaaaaAAAH IT HURTS!!!"
"MY HEAD! MY HEAD! IT'S BREAKING!!!"
Two screams—different tones, identical despair—rang from the same mouth.
Then, both hands flew to the back of her head and she rolled across the ground like a tortured millipede.
"You idiot! If you trip ME, you fall too!"
"What do I care?!"
And the fight continued.