Chapter 225: The Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well
Beside the Martial Arts Arena, a deathly silence hung in the air, stretching on for two or three heavy breaths.
Then, a booming burst of laughter shattered the quiet.
Du Busi stood at the edge of the sparring field. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, the corners of his mouth turned upward in an unconcealed, roaring laugh. He looked toward the center of the stage, shaking his head in sheer amusement.
There, Elder Chen stood completely immobilized, tightly bound by thick, dark purple chains of mental energy.
"Over level ninety, and yet you've let yourself be reduced to this state by a kid," Du Busi's voice echoed across the grounds, ensuring every Body Sect disciple in the vicinity heard him loud and clear. "Old Chen, I'm afraid your ancient face is going to be completely wiped away today."
Elder Chen cast a mild glance down at the restrictive chains coiling around his torso and limbs, then raised his head to meet his Sect Master's teasing gaze. There was no anger etched into his weathered features—only a deep, lingering helplessness.
"Sect Master, listen to what you're saying," Chen replied, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Liu Yuan is no ordinary level sixty-plus Soul Emperor. Do you honestly believe just anyone can condense their First Soul Core at level sixty-two? Or that a mere junior could trap a Titled Douluo with mental-type chains?"
Du Busi merely chuckled, offering no rebuttal.
Withdrawing his gaze from the Sect Master, Chen refocused his attention on the young man standing opposite him. The elder's demeanor shifted. The gentle, testing aura of a senior guiding a junior vanished, replaced by a deep, appreciative scrutiny.
"However, since the Sect Master has spoken, this old man cannot remain tied up by you forever." Chen's tone remained perfectly even, yet Liu Yuan instantly felt an invisible, suffocating weight descend upon the arena.
Beneath the elder's feet, his ninth soul ring flared to life.
The crimson hue of a hundred-thousand-year soul ring pulsed with a heavy, blood-like luminescence. A terrifying surge of soul power erupted from Chen's core, sweeping outward like a tidal wave. This was no longer the restrained, tentative release from earlier; this was the unadulterated, world-bending might of a true Titled Douluo.
Liu Yuan felt his Forbidden Domain violently shudder. The dark purple chains wrapped around the elder groaned, emitting sharp, high-pitched creaks as they strained against an impossible outward pressure.
Behind Chen, the space warped, and a colossal phantom slowly materialized.
It took the form of a pair of gigantic hands. They gleamed with a pale, ethereal gold, boasting slender fingers and distinct, pronounced joints. Each individual digit stretched several meters long, hovering ominously behind the elder. The fingers spread slightly, radiating a steady, mountain-crushing oppression that threatened to suffocate everyone watching.
This was Chen's ninth Soul Skill.
Liu Yuan narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. He immediately attempted to channel the power of his Destruction Beast Spirit Soul once more.
Seeing Through the Void.
A grayish-brown light surged from the center of his brow, shooting forward to envelop the elder. But this time, the absolute severing effect failed.
The moment the grayish-brown beam collided with the pale gold phantom hands, it was as if it had struck an impenetrable fortress wall, instantly dissipating into harmless sparks. Chen's soul power circuits remained perfectly intact, and his ninth Soul Skill continued to operate with terrifying stability.
Liu Yuan's brow furrowed. His jaw locked tightly.
The gap was simply too vast. He had only managed to interrupt the elder's fifth Soul Skill earlier because the man hadn't been taking the fight seriously, and the structural integrity of a fifth-tier skill was leagues below a ninth-tier one. Now that a Titled Douluo was using his true foundation, the Seeing Through the Void ability couldn't even scratch the surface of that dense, layered soul power defense.
Then, Chen moved.
The elder merely raised his right hand and gave the air a light, casual squeeze.
Snap.
The dark purple chains binding him shattered simultaneously. There was no violent explosion, no blinding flash of light. It was as effortless as snapping a few brittle threads.
The Forbidden Domain collapsed in an instant. The oppressive dark purple light receded from the stage, unveiling the scarred bluestone tiles beneath.
Liu Yuan felt his fifth Soul Skill being forcibly ripped apart. A vicious backlash of chaotic energy surged back through his soul power circuits, slamming into his internal organs. He let out a muffled groan, his boots skidding backward against the stone as he fought to stabilize his footing.
Before he could even catch his breath, Chen vanished.
It wasn't a teleportation technique; the elder's physical speed had simply eclipsed what Liu Yuan's dynamic vision could track.
By the time his Double Pupils locked onto the elder's position again, the man was already standing directly in front of him, less than an arm's length away.
Chen's right fist was raised, its surface coated in a rich, condensed layer of pale gold soul power. The strike possessed no fancy martial forms or complex trajectories—it was just a simple, straightforward punch.
Yet, the sheer kinetic force behind it tore through the air, generating a howling gale that whipped Liu Yuan's hair wildly backward.
He didn't dodge. There was absolutely no time.
The fist halted abruptly in mid-air. The knuckles hovered a mere three centimeters from the tip of Liu Yuan's nose. The residual wind pressure from the halted strike slammed into his face, stinging his skin like a swarm of needles, but the fist itself never made contact.
Chen stood motionless, his fist suspended, and offered a warm smile.
"Let's end this sparring session here for now."
Liu Yuan stared at the glowing fist hovering before his eyes. He remained silent for a long moment, his chest heaving slightly, before giving a stiff nod.
The elder lowered his arm, the colossal golden hands fading into motes of light behind him. He calmly brushed a speck of dust from his sleeves, took two steps back, and smoothly resumed his gentle, grandfatherly demeanor.
Around the Martial Arts Arena, the frozen spectators finally seemed to snap out of their trance, erupting into a cacophony of gasps and whispers.
"What was that just now? Elder Chen's ninth Soul Skill?"
"Those hands had to be at least five meters long! Is that the Martial Soul Avatar of a Titled Douluo?"
"Senior Brother Liu Yuan's chains were completely obliterated. He couldn't resist at all."
"Are you an idiot? That's a Titled Douluo! Elder Chen was just playing around before. Once he got serious, how could a Soul Emperor possibly block it?"
Long Aotian stood silently at the edge of the field. His arms were still crossed, but his fingers dug unconsciously into the fabric of his sleeves. His gaze darted between the elder and the young transmigrator, a storm of complex emotions swirling in his eyes.
Beside him, Chen Lü leaned in, lowering his voice. "Eldest Senior Brother, you saw it too. The chasm between a Titled Douluo and a Soul Emperor is just too massive. Honestly, it's already completely outrageous that Senior Brother Liu Yuan managed to hold out for so long."
Aotian offered no reply, his jaw set in a hard line.
Up on the stage, Liu Yuan stood rooted to the spot, having completely withdrawn his aura. He kept his head bowed, his gaze fixed on the cracked bluestone beneath his boots. His pragmatic mind rapidly calculated the sheer disparity in their power levels.
After a moment, he lifted his head, meeting the elder's gaze with a self-deprecating smile.
"It seems I am still far too weak."
Hearing this, Chen blinked in surprise, then shook his head, thoroughly amused by the boy's absurd standards. He stepped forward, clapping a hand onto the young man's shoulder with a firm, grounding weight.
"You brat, don't be too greedy," Chen scolded lightly, his tone laced with both helplessness and deep sincerity. "You are only at level sixty-two, yet the raw combat strength you just displayed... even an eighty-fifth-level Soul Douluo might not be able to suppress you steadily. Is that still not enough to satisfy you?"
Liu Yuan remained silent, his expression unreadable.
"You just need to continue cultivating diligently," Chen added softly. "I estimate that by the time you break through to level seventy, you should possess the combat power to genuinely rival a Titled Douluo. A feat like that would be absolutely unmatched on the Douluo Continent."
Du Busi stepped onto the stage, his heavy boots thudding against the stone. His left shoulder was still heavily bandaged from previous battles, but his posture remained as imposing as a mountain. He stopped in front of his disciple, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.
"Old Chen is right. Boy, do not let greed cloud your judgment."
Liu Yuan looked up, meeting his master's intense gaze.
"Although I know the incident with the Holy Spirit Cult was a massive blow to you," Du Busi continued, his voice softening just a fraction, "some things simply cannot be rushed. You have already done exceptionally well. Having a successor like you is the greatest blessing the Body Sect could ask for."
Taking in their words, Liu Yuan took a deep breath, the tension slowly bleeding from his shoulders. He cupped his hands respectfully toward both men.
"Thank you, Master. And thank you, Elder Chen, for your guidance."
Du Busi waved his hand dismissively, while Chen smiled, gesturing that there was no need for such rigid formalities between them.
Seeing the exchange, the surrounding disciples knew the spectacle was officially over. Though many still craved more action, the crowd began to slowly disperse in small groups. Some continued to excitedly dissect the brief clash of titans, while others packed up their gear, their stomachs grumbling for dinner.
Chen Lü tugged lightly at Aotian's sleeve. "Eldest Senior Brother, let's go. It's time to eat."
Aotian gave a low hum of acknowledgment and turned to leave.
Just then, the frantic, slapping sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance of the Martial Arts Arena.
A young disciple clad in the standard Body Sect uniform sprinted into the courtyard. His face was pale with sheer exhaustion, his chest heaving like a bellows, and his robes were caked in thick layers of dirt and grime—the obvious marks of someone who had traveled a massive distance without rest.
Yet, despite the bone-deep fatigue, his eyes burned with a feverish, blinding excitement. A wild grin stretched across his face.
The moment he crossed the threshold, his eyes darted frantically across the dispersing crowd before finally locking onto the central stage. Seeing Liu Yuan still standing there, an expression of pure, unadulterated joy erupted on his dirt-smudged face.
"Senior Brother Liu Yuan!"
He screamed the name, forcing his burning legs to pump even faster as he sprinted toward the stage.
The sheer volume of his shout caused the surrounding disciples to freeze in their tracks, turning back in confusion.
The exhausted scout slammed his hands onto the edge of the elevated platform. Without even pausing to catch his breath, he looked up at the transmigrator and practically roared his report.
"Senior Brother Liu Yuan! The location you asked us to search for in the Sunset Forest... we found it! We found the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well!"
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