Chapter Twenty-Two: This Is the Power of Stats!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The force of his fists raged wildly.

On the ground, Wu Feng was pinned beneath the overbearing pressure of Ning Wuque’s fist winds, crushed directly onto Ning Tian. The suddenness of the assault left the latter unable to even manifest a soul skill before being pinned to the floor, trapped beneath Wu Feng’s weight.

They struggled to rise, but Ning Wuque’s fists followed in relentless succession.

Like a towering fortress, his fists flickered constantly before their eyes. The sheer force of the gale-like pressure suppressed Wu Feng every time she attempted to stand.

*How is this possible! How can this be!*

*Body, move! Just get up! How can this be? This is nothing but the wind from his strikes! Wu Feng, get up!*

She frantically channeled her internal soul power, attempting to fight back, but it was useless—utterly useless.

Every one of Ning Wuque’s fist winds struck with surgical precision at her limb joints, abdomen, and chest, suppressing her from every conceivable angle.

Wu Feng’s dragon-like eyes flickered with defiance, but it quickly gave way to terror. She could no longer move; she could no longer struggle. Her muscles were battered to the point of extreme soreness.

Watching the afterimages of his fists and feeling the violent, domineering power behind them, she had no doubt that any one of those blows would have been enough to end her life.

Beneath her, Ning Tian bore the least of the pressure. The fist winds, filtered through Wu Feng’s body, struck her with negligible force. Yet, as a support-type soul master, she possessed no way to push the heavy weight of Wu Feng off herself. Her strength was insufficient—far from enough.

"This kind of power..."

She struggled to open her eyes, facing Ning Wuque directly as he swung his fists toward them. She felt it—she felt the sheer magnitude of this power with crystalline clarity.

Less than ten seconds had passed when, despite Ning Wuque’s deliberate restraint, Wu Feng reached her breaking point. Her clothes were covered in fist imprints, seemingly nailed to her skin.

The intensity of the fist wind abated, allowing Ning Tian, who had been struggling to breathe, a moment of respite.

However, the greater trial was yet to come.

*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*

The sound of air shrieking filled their ears. Even fiercer fist winds gathered on both sides, creating a cage-like pressure that forced them to shrink even their instinctive tremors, leaving them paralyzed in fear.

On the ground, as Ning Wuque unleashed his full power, a miracle akin to water drops piercing stone unfolded before everyone’s eyes.

Using nothing but the wind of his strikes, he cracked the green jade floor tiles beside them, leaving small but distinct indentations!

"Hah... hah..."

The torture lasted for a full half-minute. Ning Wuque finally stopped. The wind vanished. Ning Tian, who had remained unharmed, looked up at the boy standing tall and heroic against the setting sun.

But before she could utter a single word—

"Hah... hah... cough!"

A spray of blood erupted from his mouth, splattering onto Wu Feng. Then, Ning Wuque’s body collapsed backward, limp as a gutted scarecrow, losing consciousness like a kite with its string snapped.

*Whoosh!*

In an instant, Zhang Can, who had been prepared, flashed onto the stage to catch Ning Wuque, whose soul power had been completely drained. He quickly produced a vial of medicine and fed it to him.

"Quick! Healing-type soul masters, now!"

Without hesitation, Zhang Can shouted toward the medical team, then flashed away again, whisking Ning Wuque off the field to receive treatment.

"It hurts... it hurts so much... wuu~"

Ning Tian had been stunned by the sudden turn of events, only snapping back to reality when she heard the whimpering from Wu Feng in her arms.

Wu Feng had already deactivated her martial soul possession. Tears streamed down her face from the pain, and she curled up like a kitten in Ning Tian’s embrace, letting out mournful sobs.

Ning Wuque had struck with precision, but he had shown no mercy. He had battered every part of Wu Feng’s body, avoiding only the lethal points, leaving the majority of her muscles in a state of agonizing soreness.

"Ning Tian and Wu Feng versus Ning Wuque. Ning Wuque is the winner!"

The belated verdict announced the victor of the match. Anyone could clearly see that Ning Wuque had held back—he had held back an ocean’s worth of power.

Looking at the tiles beside them, one could see that had that force landed directly on their bodies, it wouldn't have been a matter of fists; even the wind alone was more than Wu Feng could withstand. A sustained barrage would have left her crippled, if not dead.

"He... he is so strong. So..."

Ning Tian held Wu Feng, her mind replaying the image of Ning Wuque standing against the sunset. Even after completely exhausting his strength and soul power, he had stood upon the earth like steel—upright and unyielding.

In the stands, the majority of the audience remained lost in a daze.

Most of them knew Ning Wuque: the adopted grandson of Elder Zhang Can, a soul master with an ordinary martial soul and only three levels of innate soul power—a "crazy" boy who had been acting strangely ever since his awakening.

Today, he had proven with a series of overwhelming victories that his efforts were not delusions, proving what it meant to find a way where there seemed to be none.

Strength, talent, and will—his noble qualities deeply shocked the elders in attendance, including the Sect Master, Ning Fengxiao.

"Zhang Can... he has raised a fine grandson. A truly good grandson!"

"A first-ring ordinary soul master capable of unleashing peak strength comparable to a top-tier third-ring beast-soul master? Am I dreaming?"

"Can effort and talent really change one's fate?"

"Ring explosion, the Nine-Fold Yama Gate... What a feat, to explode one's own rings! What a way to seize great power from the jaws of death!"

The crowd buzzed with discussion, unable to recover from the shock for a long time.

...

"A familiar ceiling."

When Ning Wuque woke up again, he found himself in his own bed. He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, as memories of the final battle flooded back.

Half a minute was not his limit; it was the limit of what he could achieve by pushing himself to the absolute extreme.

Under normal circumstances, a thousand-year soul ring could sustain his first phase for about seven minutes, after which he would be forcibly ejected from the Nine-Fold Yama Gate state.

He hadn't expected the side effects of using this self-created soul skill for the first time to be so severe that he lost consciousness before he could even deliver a parting line.

It likely wouldn't happen again, though. His body had begun to adapt to the first stage. Next time his soul power was exhausted, the worst he would face would be total physical paralysis.

At least his consciousness would remain clear.

"Still... do I have to experience this kind of coma nine times in total? That is truly an uncomfortable prospect."

Ning Wuque muttered to himself.

In truth, he knew well that he might only survive eight comas. The ninth time... perhaps he would never wake up again.

Unless he could obtain a treasure capable of preserving his life—such as the Gold of Life.

"Wuque, you're awake! That's wonderful. The doctor said you exhausted all your blood, energy, and soul power. I... you must be clear about such dangerous things next time, do you understand?!"

"Grandfather... I understand. I didn't expect the side effects to be this severe; I overestimated myself. The toll taken on my martial soul is at least three times what my body can bear!"

Ning Wuque nodded to show he understood. At the same time, this experimental attempt had provided him with a massive amount of data to fill in and refine his theories.