Chapter 46 – The Fist that Defines the World
"Don't," Zhao Wuji hissed. "That boy... his aura... hes dangerous. If you move, we all die."
Lakan didn't even look back. "Keep your eyes on the dirt where they belong, White Tiger. The Sun and the Shadow have no time for the barking of dogs."
With a shimmer of the Song of the Adarna: Phantasmal Flight, the two vanished into the shadows, leaving Tang San standing in the silence, his fists clenched so hard his nails drew blood.
--------------------
Hours later, the ground groaned. The Titan Giant Ape, Er Ming, descended like a falling mountain. Lakan and Zhuqing watched from a pocket of distorted space—a Song of the Adarna: Void Silence.
Lakan watched with a cold, analytical smile as the "Kidnapping" of Xiao Wu played out. He saw Tang San's desperate, suicidal charge; he saw the "Hidden Weapons" bounce off Er Ming's hide like mere pebbles. He didn't move a muscle to help.
"Why aren't we helping?" Zhuqing whispered, her violet eyes reflecting the carnage.
"Because the rabbit is going home to visit family," Lakan replied cryptically. "And because the boy in blue needs to learn that his 'hidden' toys are meaningless against the true weight of the world. Let it play out. My interest isn't in the rabbit... it's in the mountain."
After the chaos settled and Xiao Wu eventually "escaped" and returned to her group, Er Ming began his trek back toward the Star Dou Lake. The massive ape moved with the confidence of an apex predator that knew no equal.
Er Ming stopped. A single human figure was standing in the center of the path—a young man with silver sun-eyes and obsidian tattoos that seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the earth.
"Titan Giant Ape," Lakan's voice wasn't loud, but it resonated through the marrow of Er Ming's bones. "They call you the King of the Forest. I call you a whetstone. I have practiced a single strike ten thousand times... today, I see if your skin can survive the result."
Er Ming roared, a sound that flattened the trees for a hundred meters. He didn't care for human words. He raised a fist the size of a carriage and slammed it down with the force of a tectonic shift.
Lakan didn't use the Octagon Prison. He didn't use his Sibat. He stood in a simple, relaxed stance—the Eight Directional Flow: Center-Point.
As the massive fist descended, Lakan stepped forward. It was a movement so infinitesimal yet so perfect that he seemed to slide between the atoms of the air.
"Suntukan: The Echoing Strike—Zero Point."
Lakan's fist didn't glow. There was no flashy display of soul power. But as his knuckles made contact with Er Ming's finger, the world inverted.
The Effect on Space:
The Fist Intent didn't just strike the flesh; it struck the dimension. At the point of impact, the air turned into a vacuum. The space behind Er Ming's hand distorted, twisting like a wet rag being wrung out. This wasn't just physical force—it was the Will of the Sovereign commanding matter to move out of his way.
CRACK-BOOM.
The sound wasn't an explosion; it was a Sonic Implosion. Er Ming's massive arm, capable of crushing a Titled Douluo's bones, was flung backward. The shockwave of the Fist Intent traveled through the ape's muscular structure, bypassing the skin and striking the internal organs directly.
The 100,000-year beast let out a grunt of genuine pain, his massive body skidding back fifty meters, leaving two deep trenches in the forest floor.
The Epic Narrative: The Sovereign vs. The King
Er Ming, now truly enraged, slammed his hands into the ground, triggering the Gravity Control Domain. The weight of the world increased tenfold, enough to crush a Spirit Sage into a bloody pulp.
Lakan simply breathed. "Eight-Cycle Breath: Overdrive x30."
His skin turned a dark, polished silver. He ignored the gravity. To a man who has mastered his own internal "Flow," external weight is just an illusion. Lakan moved. He was a silver blur that moved in straight, jagged lines—the Tatsulok-Kusa.
Every time Er Ming tried to grab him, Lakan would strike.
Left Rib—Fist Intent.
Right Knee—Fist Intent.
Sternum—Fist Intent.
Each hit left a Spatial Ripple. To an observer, it looked as if Lakan was punching through glass. Every impact created a "Star-Crack" in the air, a localized distortion where the Fist Intent had temporarily erased the friction of the universe.
Er Ming's roars grew frantic. He swung his tail, a whip of pure muscle. Lakan didn't dodge. He caught the tail with one hand—his Batong-Pilak bones groaning but holding—and delivered a counter-punch directly into the tail's base.
POOM!
The shockwave erupted out of Er Ming's back, blasting a hole through a mountain three miles away. The Giant Ape gasped, his eyes widening as he felt his very soul power being disrupted by the "Echo" of the strike.
Lakan stepped back, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic, calm pace. His knuckles were steaming, the air around his hands shimmering with heat.
"Enough," Lakan said, his silver eyes locking onto Er Ming's.
The Great Ape huffed, his breath like a gale-force wind. He looked at the human—this tiny creature that had just forced a 100,000-year King to use its full strength. For the first time in his long life, Er Ming felt a sense of Awe. He sensed the Adarna Phoenix and the Sovereign's Will inside Lakan.
Er Ming lowered his head, a low rumble of respect vibrating in the ground. He realized this human wasn't a hunter... he was a peer.
"Go back to your lake, Er Ming," Lakan said, turning his back with the supreme arrogance of a Sovereign. "Tell the 'Brother' in the water... the Sun has risen over the Star Dou. And soon, I will come for the center of the world."