Chapter 133: Sikong Ming's Immortal Body

"Take this!" After manifesting his spirit sword, Zhang Yang charged toward Sikong Ming. With only the two brothers and a long-haired man who knew no martial arts remaining in the Sikong team, and given that the heavy hitters always brought up the rear—with Sikong Lang surely waiting for the final act—Sikong Ming was the sole combatant for this round.

Had Zhang Yang witnessed this man's true capabilities, he would have been far more cautious. Beyond his ability to transform his body into various offensive and defensive weapons, Sikong Ming could contort his flesh at will, much like a liquid being. His body was filled with a cruel, sadistic desire to slaughter his enemies, a side of him Zhang Yang had yet to encounter.

"A fine sword!" Seeing the spirit sword in Zhang Yang's hand, Sikong Ming’s expression grew serious. *This is troublesome. The blade in this brat's hand is something special. It seems I have no choice but to use that technique.* With that thought, Sikong Ming exerted force through his feet. A sharp crack echoed as his heels shattered the solid stone floor beneath him. It was unclear what trick he was preparing to unleash.

"!?..." Seeing the stone beneath Sikong Ming crumble and the eerie smile on his face, Qin Xiaochuan, standing by the ring, grew anxious. Zhang Yang was a straightforward person, lacking any cunning, while Sikong Ming wore a look of pure malice. It was clearly not going to be simple.

Just as Qin Xiaochuan worried, Zhang Yang reached Sikong Ming and cleaved his body in two with a single, effortless strike. "What!?" Staring at the bisected form of his opponent, Zhang Yang’s face showed disbelief. "Hey!? What... what is this? Did I... did I win?" It was all too easy. Had he really taken him down just like that?

"No!" Just as Zhang Yang was feeling confused by his victory, Sikong Ming’s sinister voice drifted from behind him. Five flesh-spikes erupted from behind, instantly piercing through Zhang Yang’s arms and shoulders. After the strike, the spikes retracted, and Sikong Ming emerged from the rock behind Zhang Yang. Looking down at the collapsed boy, he let out a wicked laugh. "Hehehe, fell for it so easily. What a simple-minded fool! Tricking someone so naive really gets me excited!"

"You!? You have two bodies!?" Looking at the two versions of Sikong Ming—one in front and one behind—the fallen Zhang Yang could hardly believe his eyes. Did this guy possess a cloning technique?

"No, no, no." Hearing the question, the Sikong Ming who had emerged from the rock shook his head, seemingly wanting Zhang Yang to die with full understanding. He raised his left arm, pulling up the dummy that had been connected to his right arm, and watched it slowly retract into his own limb. "This is a living puppet created from my own body, a mere mimicry. It feels pain, though not as sharply as you do, hehe!"

After retracting his arm, Sikong Ming’s face and body began to shift, manifesting identical faces and limbs across his torso. "See? Forget about outward appearance; I can even shift the location of my internal organs at will. Just now, I moved my true body through the ground beneath my feet and emerged from under the flagstone." As he spoke, his right hand extended, his five fingers elongating to snatch the Spirit-Gathering Sword Zhang Yang had dropped. "A truly convenient tool. Is this the relic of Jinghai? It’s a shame it was left to a good-for-nothing disciple like you; she probably couldn't even rest in peace knowing that."

"!?..." Hearing that Master Jinghai was dead, Zhang Yang went berserk. Enduring the agony of his pierced arms, he trembled as he pushed himself up with his hands. Glaring at Sikong Ming, he asked in disbelief, "What!? You... what did you just say!?"

"Why the surprise? Don't tell me you didn't know? Your so-called Master Jinghai is already dead!"

Facing Sikong Ming, Zhang Yang’s heart felt as though it were being torn apart, leaving him speechless. The physical pain from the wounds combined with the internal anguish made his body shake uncontrollably. "How... how could this be!!"

"Granny... won't be coming today."

"You really are a lucky one."

...

Recalling the conversation between Qin Xiaochuan and Feiyan earlier that morning, Zhang Yang finally understood. They had known about Granny all along, leaving him to be the only fool kept in the dark.

"Ugh~~~...!!"

Just as Zhang Yang wallowed in self-reproach over Granny’s passing, five more flesh-spikes lunged forward, piercing his body once more. His thighs, arms, and shoulders were impaled by the spikes extending from Sikong Ming’s right hand. Blood sprayed instantly, forcing him to his knees, supported only by one hand.

"Hehehehe! Ahahahahahaha!" Watching the kneeling Zhang Yang, Sikong Ming looked up and roared with laughter. "Your companions are truly heartless, aren't they? None of them told you!? Well then, let me tell you!"

As he spoke, a humanoid puppet appeared on his arm—a mimicry he had shaped to resemble Master Jinghai in her youth. "Long, long ago, there was a pair of young people, companions who studied the ultimate mysteries of martial arts together. But as time passed, the woman grew old and ugly."

"Brother!"

"Quiet, let me finish." Casting a glance at the disgruntled Sikong Lang below the stage, Sikong Ming continued his demonstration for Zhang Yang. "Conversely, the man, in his pursuit of martial perfection, borrowed the power of the demonic path to remain forever young. The aging woman, consumed by jealousy, challenged the man to a duel. Tragically, she died by his hand." As he spoke, the fingers of his left hand transformed into spikes, piercing the puppet’s body, causing blood—as real as any living person’s—to spray from its mouth. Sneering at Zhang Yang, he continued, "And just like that, Jinghai was killed by my brother and sent to heaven. How joyous, how truly joyous! Hahaha!"

"Tch...! My brother really has a sick sense of humor."

"Hm?"

"I am truly... angry now!!" Ignoring Sikong Ming, flames of rage consumed Zhang Yang. It wasn't just the anger at Sikong Ming for using Master Jinghai’s death to torment him; it was the sting of betrayal and isolation, the realization that Qin Xiaochuan and the others didn't consider him one of their own. Under the weight of these two angers, Zhang Yang sank into a state of madness, a volcanic fury on the verge of eruption.

"Hmph! Decent spirit." Picking up the Spirit-Gathering Sword, Sikong Ming acted as if he had grasped Zhang Yang’s weakness. "However, your trump card is still in my hands! Your spirit energy alone isn't enough to kill me, hehe."

"Shut up!"

"The one who should be quiet is you. Die!" Having played enough, Sikong Ming extended his right hand, sending the flesh-spikes toward Zhang Yang’s chest. He intended to pierce his heart and silence him forever.

"!?..."

When the spikes struck Zhang Yang’s skin, they failed to penetrate. *How is this possible? It won't go in; his skin is blocking it!?* He pushed his right hand forward with all his might, but no matter how hard Sikong Ming strained, the spikes could not advance a single millimeter. Zhang Yang’s skin had become as hard as refined steel. Looking up, Zhang Yang locked eyes with him, his gaze icy and devoid of life—a look of utter despair and cold detachment. Seeing this, Sikong Ming felt a flicker of fear, something he hadn't experienced in a very long time. He began to back away. "You!?... What are you doing!?..."

"Die!"

Before he could process what was happening, Sikong Ming was hacked into several pieces by the spirit sword in Zhang Yang’s hand. Though the Spirit-Gathering Sword had been lost, Zhang Yang had manifested two blades of pure spirit energy with his hands, utterly dismembering Sikong Ming.

Sikong Ming’s body lay in scattered fragments, his limbs severed and strewn about. Zhang Yang, however, trembled from the extreme exertion. "Cough, cough..." He leaned on his knees, coughing up blood.

"Quite impressive," Sikong Ming said. Despite being hacked into pieces, he was not dead. Lifting his head to look at the gasping Zhang Yang, he let out a sinister, twisted laugh. "Dual swords! Not bad. But to release spirit energy while barely accustomed to the state must be a heavy burden on your body, hehe. And that last strike didn't seem to hit my vitals." As he spoke, he began to remotely control his severed limbs, pulling them back together. Countless flesh-spikes sprouted from the severed ends, stitching the pieces back together. Just as he had claimed, as long as his vitals remained intact, he could resurrect indefinitely. Perhaps this was the terrifying quality that distinguished him from his brother, Sikong Lang.

"So amazing!"

"An immortal body!"

"Sikong Lang’s brother is incredible!"

"To be hacked into so many pieces and still come back—he’s invincible!"

...

Seeing Sikong Ming stand up on the stage once more, the audience erupted in shock. As expected of the brother of the previous champion, Sikong Lang—no one had expected Sikong Ming to be this monstrous.

"What now? Are you going to try and pierce my heart like White Shadow did for a shocking comeback? Hehe." As he spoke, Sikong Ming continued to manifest eyes, ears, and mouths across his body, as if showing off to Zhang Yang. "But as you are now, you can't possibly locate my heart or brain. Frustrating, isn't it? Hehehehe!..."