Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Might Makes Right

“I swore I wouldn’t say their name,” Wen Zhao said.

Chong Ruo Ruo’s temper flared, and Wen Zhao hurried on. “But I can describe them. You’ll know who it is.”

Chong Ruo Ruo’s patience snapped. She waved a hand, and the centipede kept closing in on the middle of the lake.

“Stop wasting time. Say it. Or you’re dead.”

Wen Zhao lifted her sword. “Do you think I’m afraid to die?”

“Or do you really dare kill me?”

She tilted her chin. “Little bug. This is your chance. Once we leave the trial grounds, if you still want to know who Xiao Hui loves, you’ll have to find out at their wedding.”

Chong Ruo Ruo stiffened. The insect tide stopped again.

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Say it.”

Wen Zhao looked at her, holding the moment, stretching it.

Wang Jie, meanwhile, was fully submerged in his own body, barely hearing any of it.

Imprint power flowed into him, transformed again—entirely into strength.

It was ridiculous. He’d absorbed enough disaster materials to break through to the Ninth Seal, yet it still felt like he hadn’t moved at all from where he’d been before he met Chong Ruo Ruo.

But the strength increase… that was real.

He finished. He opened his eyes.

“I’m done.”

Wen Zhao flicked him a glance, then looked back at Chong Ruo Ruo and said, dead serious, “Her legs are whiter than yours.”

Chong Ruo Ruo blinked.

Once. Twice.

Wang Jie’s eyes widened. He looked at Wen Zhao, utterly baffled.

What in the world had she been talking about?

Chong Ruo Ruo’s face finally twisted with realization. She exploded.

“Liar! You damn woman! You tricked me again! I’ll kill you—I’ll kill you!”

Wang Jie wiped sweat from his brow and stepped forward. “Your turn. You can break through to the Ninth Seal now, right?”

Ahead, the centipede loomed closer, and a massive Eighth Seal bug descended from above—so evolved its origins were unrecognizable.

Wen Zhao frowned. “We should leave first.”

Wang Jie gave her a short, crooked smile. “No need. The one who should run now is her.”

“Break through.”

Wen Zhao studied him for a beat, then said nothing. She simply took out disaster materials and began absorbing imprint power.

She knew he wasn’t the type to speak carelessly.

Behind them, Chong Ruo Ruo screamed and cursed, hopping with rage. “Damn man! Damn woman! You’re dead! I’m going to butcher you!”

Wang Jie rolled his shoulders and raised his head toward the sky projection.

The lake was a battlefield. Dead fish floated everywhere. The water churned, almost boiling from the conflict between fish and insects.

The Eighth Seal bug dropped.

Wang Jie punched upward.

The impact was brutal—eight times what he’d had when he first reached the Eighth Seal. The Eighth Seal bug burst into fragments.

Wen Zhao stared.

Eight times.

Even without the multiplier, Wang Jie’s fist could’ve erased an ordinary Eighth Seal creature. With it, even Wang Jie didn’t seem to know how far his strength had gone.

That punch made the centipede hesitate.

It reared back, hissing warily.

Wang Jie didn’t look away from the sky projection. He spoke as if to himself. “When I was a kid, the director only took us to a movie once. So for ten years, I’ve treated that sky projection like a film.”

“So many people. So many moves.”

“Some looked too cool. Useless. Some were too simple and brutal. Also useless.”

He flexed his hands. “But now… I can use them.”

“Looks like I’ve stepped onto a path where strength rules.”

The centipede charged, ramming straight at him. A wash of eerie green flame burst over its body—cold enough to freeze the lake in an instant.

Ice spread across the surface.

Wang Jie slid one foot back. He turned sideways, lifted both hands, curled his fingers as if to clap, and stopped short—catching a visibly warped pocket of air between his palms.

He rotated it.

Then slowly rotated against it.

His movements were controlled and deliberate, but the air between his hands thickened, compressed, becoming something dense and palpable.

Imprint power surged through his arms.

Wang Jie lifted his head and slammed the compressed airflow forward.

The air burst outward in a circular blast, detonating against the centipede with his strength behind it.

A thunderous boom shook the world.

The ground collapsed. Lakewater surged into the crater. A furious shockwave swept across the battlefield, flinging insects and fish in every direction. Even the eerie green flames were snuffed out by sheer force.

Wen Zhao, closest to the blast, was knocked back by suffocating pressure. She had been on the verge of breaking through—now she stumbled, shocked, eyes wide.

From above, it looked like a storm was born around Wang Jie. A gale swept several kilometers outward, whipping the lake into towering waves.

The centipede’s upper body was hurled back and slammed into the water.

Chong Ruo Ruo stared, mouth open.

There wasn’t even much lockforce. How did the impact hit that hard?

The truth was simple: Jia Yi Sect had countless combat skills, passed down through generations. Many had been lost—not because they were too difficult, but because they weren’t worth learning.

Like this one. On its own, it wasn’t especially lethal.

But in Wang Jie’s hands—driven by imprint power, backed by overwhelming strength—it became perfect for clearing the field.

The centipede crashed again, sending up another wall of water.

Wang Jie lowered his hands.

It felt good.

Like days of frustration finally tearing free.

Rain fell as the lakewater splashed sky-high and came down again, soaking Wang Jie.

Soaking Chong Ruo Ruo too.

Wang Jie fixed his eyes on her and stepped forward.

He charged.

Chong Ruo Ruo screamed and bolted.

The insects around her threw themselves into his path, desperate.

Wang Jie punched through them like they were paper. A slight push of imprint power was enough to turn his strength into slaughter. Several Eighth Seal bugs were killed in an instant.

The centipede surged up from the lakebed and raced toward him.

Chong Ruo Ruo sprinted toward the centipede, leaving a chain of afterimages that made Wang Jie’s eyes ache.

Not Jia Eight Steps—she couldn’t match those perfect bursts—but still far faster than the footwork Wang Jie had learned.

The Heaven-Insect People really did have their own tricks when it came to escaping.

Wang Jie met the centipede head-on.

No more holding back.

His earlier blast had only thrown it off balance. It hadn’t been hurt at all.

Its defense was insane.

Fine.

Wang Jie snapped his fingers.

At the center of the lake, Wen Zhao’s gaze sharpened.

That move.

The clouds above tore open as a gigantic finger descended from the sky. The ground below split, and another finger rose up in answer.

Chong Ruo Ruo froze mid-run, eyes blank with shock.

What is that?

Far away, on the walls of Shang Jing City, countless cultivators stared up as the finger fell through the sky.

“Old Boss,” someone whispered, voice tight.

Qing Zheng and the others watched, hearts sinking. Old Boss using this meant the situation was truly dangerous.

Sister Tang stood rooted, stunned.

A battle skill like this…

Heaven-and-Earth Luo Xuan Finger—one finger from above, one from below—pinned the centipede between them.

There was a soft crack.

The centipede’s armor split.

Then its body shattered—inch by inch, spreading outward—until it was ground into pieces beneath the crushing pressure.

Green blood erupted upward and rained down.

Chong Ruo Ruo was drenched in it.

She stared at Wang Jie through the curtain of green, stunned beyond speech.

As a Heaven-Insect Person, she’d seen things—she’d even seen techniques capable of shattering planets.

But that wasn’t something an Eighth Seal could do.

Could an Eighth Seal really be this strong?

Wang Jie was stunned too.

He hadn’t expected Heaven-and-Earth Luo Xuan Finger to kill the centipede outright.

Before this, that move couldn’t even beat Wen Zhao. It only forced her to retreat.

But his strength had surged. Everything about him had changed.

Even Heaven-and-Earth Luo Xuan Finger had transformed with him.

If he hadn’t gained that eightfold boost, he probably still couldn’t have killed the centipede so cleanly.

Around them, the insect tide retreated in fear.

Wang Jie stepped through the blood-soaked ground and walked toward Chong Ruo Ruo.

At the center of the lake, Wen Zhao exhaled.

Good.

She could finally break through in peace.

Wang Jie stopped in front of Chong Ruo Ruo. She was drenched, face pale beneath the green mess.

He lifted his hand and swung.

Chong Ruo Ruo flinched and tried to dodge.

Wang Jie stopped the slap inches from her cheek.

She peeked at him from behind her arm, trembling.

He flicked her forehead instead.

“Ow!” Chong Ruo Ruo stumbled back, eyes filling with grievance and fury.

“Cause trouble for me again,” Wang Jie said coldly, “and it won’t end this easily next time, you damn girl.”

If she’d had any real killing intent, he wouldn’t have let her off at all.

As for Heaven-Insect People revenge… he wasn’t thinking that far ahead. That was a problem for later.

But letting her go didn’t mean letting her go for free.

Chong Ruo Ruo snorted, wiped at the green blood, and immediately recoiled in disgust. Too dirty. Too smelly.

She leapt into the lake to wash.

Wang Jie bent to gather disaster materials. There were plenty.

From the water, Chong Ruo Ruo snapped, “Hey! You didn’t peek at me, did you?”

Wang Jie didn’t even look up. “Small tits, small ass. What’s there to peek at?”

Chong Ruo Ruo’s face cycled through green and white, rage shaking her—but she swallowed it. She commanded her insects to guard the area and keep the mutated creatures in the lake away while she washed in tense silence.

When she finally emerged, she took clothes from her storage ring, dressed neatly, and stepped onto shore.

By then, Wen Zhao had completed her breakthrough.

Ninth Seal.

Her aura was sharp, heavy, and dangerous.

Wang Jie finished gathering the surrounding materials. The most valuable was a dark green bead from the centipede, with green flames flickering inside it. Imprint power pulsed within—dense and enormous.

Chong Ruo Ruo glanced at Wen Zhao. “You broke through?”

Wen Zhao’s eyes were cool. “What? Want to try me?”

Chong Ruo Ruo snorted. “Without that vicious man, I would’ve caught you long ago.”

Wen Zhao couldn’t deny it. In trials like this, the Heaven-Insect People were close to unbeatable. She tilted her head. “That just means I have charm. Why can’t you find a man to help you?”

Chong Ruo Ruo ground her teeth. This woman’s mouth was venom.

“You flirt everywhere,” she snapped. “Brother Xiao will never like you.”

Wen Zhao sighed. “I told you, it has nothing to do with him.”

Chong Ruo Ruo visibly relaxed. Words said at a time like this had to be true.

Wang Jie’s voice cut in. “Hey. Girl.”

Chong Ruo Ruo looked over.

“Hand over all the disaster materials you have.”

“Why?”

“Because I let you live.”

Chong Ruo Ruo lifted her chin. “Vicious man. Try not letting me go.”

Wang Jie’s eyebrows rose. He stared at her, the danger in his eyes sharp as a blade.

Chong Ruo Ruo swallowed. Fear flickered across her face, but her stubbornness won. “W-what do you want?”

Wang Jie spoke slowly, almost lazily. “For a native who’s about to become a war slave and die on an interstellar battlefield… what do you think he wouldn’t dare do?”

Chong Ruo Ruo blinked.

Then, without another word, she dumped everything from her storage ring onto the ground.

A lot.

No—an absurd amount.

Wang Jie and Wen Zhao both froze, staring.