Chapter 57: A Mountain of Flesh, an Arrow of the Soul

Bang!

The blade struck the wall, producing a muffled sound. Amid a shower of sparks, the wall remained utterly unmoved.

“Damn it!”

A burly young man cursed in frustration.

Nearby, another youth whispered, “No wonder—these are the walls of the Research Institute. Who knows how many times they've been reinforced? What do we do now? There's no way we can break through.”

All eyes shifted toward one person standing to the side.

Fang Qingyun.

He had been silent the entire time, his hand tracing lightly across the wall as if searching for something.

Seeing this, some of the others began murmuring in low voices, while a few persisted in hammering the wall with all their might.

Unfortunately, blades and swords that once sliced through iron as if it were mud now found themselves utterly powerless against the walls of the Research Institute.

Just as everyone was at their wit’s end, Fang Qingyun finally spoke.

He patted the wall before him. “Here’s the spot. Aim right here, and attack together!”

“Here?” Several people hesitated, asking, “How did you figure that out?”

“Trust me,” Fang Qingyun replied with a faint smile. “Xiao Hei, get ready!”

A deep growl emerged from the pitch-black lion.

Many cast envious glances at the beast.

A summoned creature! Such a rarity! For most, this was the first time they’d ever seen one. Possessing it was akin to having a martial artist by your side—and in time, a summoned creature’s strength might even grow further.

A tremor shuddered through the wall.

Pooling their efforts, the group’s combined assault finally brought forth a crack.

“How can this be?!”

Delight swept over them, and the trust in their eyes toward Fang Qingyun deepened.

Fang Qingyun merely smiled.

When his spiritual power reached one hundred, a strange sensation overcame him—as though his soul and body were no longer fused. His spiritual energy became distinct, transforming into a sharp blade, severing body from soul.

His flesh became heavy as a mountain, brimming with terrifying might.

In this moment, his strength reached a level that could inspire fear in any who witnessed it.

This surge was immediately reflected in his attributes:

[Host: Fang Qingyun]

[Strength: 21 (+)]

[Speed: 25 (+)]

[Constitution: 20 (+)]

[Spirit: 20 (+)]

[Spiritual Power: 100 (+)]

[Shooting: Intermediate]

[Blade Technique: Basic]

[Summoned Creature: Dragonblood Lion (+)]

[Origin Points: 206]

Every attribute had increased, including his very soul.

If his body was a mountain, his soul was an arrow.

Under these circumstances, his perception became incredibly acute.

Even his cultivation of the Slaughtering Art progressed so smoothly that Fang Qingyun could scarcely believe it himself.

The realm of the martial artist, once so distant and unattainable, now lay within easy reach.

The burning desire he’d always held, once clenched, was now his for the taking.

At this moment, the contrast left him reeling.

What you once believed to be heavy as lead turns out to be nothing but foam.

Fortunately, Fang Qingyun possessed a resolute temperament. He quickly regained his composure.

Having become a martial artist, the formidable power surging through him—flesh like a mountain, soul an arrow—became even more intense.

With this heightened perception, he detected the faintest flaw in the wall.

He channeled a surge of crimson energy into it, wreaking havoc from within.

Coupled with the all-out assault of more than a dozen quasi-martial artists—

Xiao Hei rammed the wall with all his might, shattering himself in the process, but managing to drive a fissure through the surface.

“One last strike! Xiao Hei, go!”

The Eye of the Demon on Fang Qingyun’s hand flared with light. He summoned Xiao Hei once more.

Now that he had reached the martial artist level, calling forth Xiao Hei was no longer the arduous task it had once been.

At the same time, Xiao Hei’s power had also increased significantly.

With a thunderous roar, Xiao Hei hurled himself at the wall.

A deafening crash rang out.

The entire Research Institute seemed to tremble.

Countless people looked up in astonishment, unable to fathom what was happening.

Only Old Li and the others stared blankly at Fang Qingyun and those behind him.

“Qingyun!”

Old Li was the first to regain his senses, shouting, “Over here!”

Fang Qingyun looked up at Old Li and was about to speak when suddenly his gaze hardened.

“What are you doing?”

He stared coldly at the group from the Research Institute, his eyes settling on the man restraining Zhao Junhong.

Zhao Junhong gave a sinister grin. “What else? These bastards—just letting them bleed a bit for me!”

“Bleed, is it? Very well,” Fang Qingyun replied with a gentle smile, though it sent a chill down the spines of many from the Research Institute.

“I’ll help you bleed, too!”

With a sharp shout, Fang Qingyun unleashed his astonishing speed, flashing before the man and smashing his fist into the man’s eye.

A sickening crack.

A bloodcurdling scream erupted as the man’s eye was obliterated with a single blow.

Had Fang Qingyun not held back, the man’s head would have exploded outright.

Seizing the moment, Zhao Junhong broke free, and with Fang Qingyun’s pull, the two retreated to Old Li’s side.

Silence.

Stunned amazement.

Everyone stared blankly at Fang Qingyun.

“How dare you!”

The researchers exploded in fury, drawing weapons or summoning cyborgs.

Their gazes toward Fang Qingyun brimmed with undisguised coldness and murderous intent.

When Fang Qingyun’s group emerged from the pressure chamber, the researchers had relaxed, thinking the dispute resolved.

After all, their original pretext was that Fang Qingyun refused to leave the chamber.

Who could have guessed Fang Qingyun would attack first—and with such speed and strength?

Wasn’t he just a quasi-martial artist?

That burst of speed was at least three times the limit for someone of that rank.

Old Li swallowed hard, disbelief in his voice. “Qingyun, you—you’ve become a martial artist?”

“That’s right,” Fang Qingyun replied with a cold sneer. “Under ten thousand pounds of pressure in the chamber—if I hadn’t broken through, I’d be dead.”

Ten thousand pounds of pressure?

The faces of those present changed slightly.

“Absurd!” the leader of the Research Institute snapped. “This is the Research Institute, not some den of monsters!”

“Isn’t this a monster lair?” Zhao Junhong retorted, raising his wounded arm high.

“Did I do this to myself?”

Fang Qingyun’s words came crisp and quick: “When I entered the pressure chamber, the pressure inside went out of control, spiking to ten thousand pounds. If I hadn’t become a martial artist, I’d be dead. This matter must be reported to the Serpent King.”

The Serpent King—again, the Serpent King!

The researchers were furious, but at the mention of that name, they could not help but shudder.

“Brat, I’m warning you—keep spouting nonsense and you’ll regret it!” The lead researcher’s voice was icy, his gaze like daggers stabbing into Fang Qingyun.

“The Research Institute will not tolerate desecration from anyone. If you cross that line, be prepared to face our wrath!”

“He’s telling the truth. We can bear witness!” a powerful voice boomed, cutting off the researchers.

One after another, young men and women emerged from the shattered wall, fixing the researchers with cold, determined stares.

“You…”

The researchers were dumbfounded.

Of course! They had forgotten—Fang Qingyun and Zhao Junhong weren’t the only ones using the pressure chamber. There were also quasi-martial artists from Huadu and other nearby cities.

Now, these youths, like a nest of hornets set ablaze, all rushed out together.