Chapter 81: A Fist That Shatters the Heavens

Tu Manjiang’s Sonic Boom Fist descended upon Lin Le below like the weight of Mount Tai.

The air trembled; even the ground beneath Lin Le’s feet quivered like the skin of a drum, the pebbles and soil above shuddering violently.

Everyone had already resigned themselves to witnessing Lin Le’s body turned to pulp beneath that explosive blow.

Yet at that very moment, Lin Le’s voice erupted: “Eight Absolutes of the Celestial Heights!”

As those words rang out, an astonishing phenomenon occurred. Both Tu Manjiang and Wu Dong, men steeped in martial arts, could clearly sense a wild surge of spiritual energy in all directions. In an instant, the surrounding spiritual energy gathered in a torrent, rushing toward Lin Le as if summoned by a tidal wave.

Even the Zhao father and son, who possessed no martial cultivation and could not sense spiritual energy at all, suddenly felt a fierce gale sweep in from all sides, converging upon Lin Le.

“What is this…” Wu Dong gasped, unable to make heads or tails of the situation.

Suspended in midair, Tu Manjiang too sensed the anomaly. Glancing down at Lin Le, his heart clenched in alarm.

Just moments before, Lin Le’s reserves of true essence had been utterly depleted—yet now, his energy soared at a staggering rate, multiplying geometrically. In the blink of an eye, an overwhelming force of true essence had gathered within him.

“How can this be…” Tu Manjiang cried out inwardly in shock.

For ordinary martial artists, this was simply impossible. Replenishing one’s true essence required time—never could it be accomplished in an instant.

But Lin Le was different. He was, after all, a cultivator who had achieved the Minor Foundation Establishment stage.

Most crucial of all was the Celestial Heights Art he practiced.

The Celestial Heights Art was an advanced cultivation method, enabling its practitioner to absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, even that of the stars and the universe, to refine themselves.

Lin Le’s mastery of the Celestial Heights Art was only at the second level, allowing him to draw upon the spiritual energy within a ten-mile radius.

Now, Lin Le utilized the art’s power to forcibly absorb all the surrounding spiritual energy in a single moment, converting it into his own true essence!

Such a method, in truth, inflicted tremendous backlash upon Lin Le’s physical body; the sheer volume of spiritual energy pouring in was not something an ordinary human frame could endure.

But with life and death hanging in the balance, Lin Le had no time to care.

Once the massive influx of spiritual energy entered his body, his true essence instantly swelled to an almost unbearable fullness, threatening to tear his flesh asunder.

“Heaven-Splitting Fist!”

With a thunderous shout, Lin Le unleashed his full might in a single punch, driving it upward at Tu Manjiang as he fell.

As Lin Le’s fist shot out, a sonic boom erupted in its wake, followed instantly by the air itself igniting under the force of his energy!

Boom! Lin Le and Tu Manjiang’s fists collided, detonating with a tremendous explosion.

Tu Manjiang was blasted backward by the force, crashing heavily to the ground.

“Master!” Wu Dong cried out in alarm, hurrying to his side.

Tu Manjiang had been so shaken by Lin Le’s Heaven-Splitting Fist that he was nearly unconscious.

When Wu Dong glanced at his master’s arm, he was stunned by what he saw.

Tu Manjiang’s right sleeve had been shredded. The arm beneath—once so tough it rivaled steel—was now torn open, flesh split to reveal gleaming bone beneath!

That arm was truly ruined!

“Master!” Wu Dong could scarcely believe his eyes.

How could this be? His master’s body, hardened through years of training, could withstand bullets—how could this brat have destroyed it with a single punch?!

The Zhao father and son stood frozen in terror, overwhelmed with fright.

Tu King Kong had been defeated! The very man who once dominated Haizhou’s underworld, who wiped out entire families in a fit of rage, had lost at Lin Le’s hands!

Was this really the same Lin Le they’d always known—a useless, good-for-nothing scoundrel?

“You bastard! You dared hurt my master—today I’ll end your miserable life!” Wu Dong, consumed by fury, charged at Lin Le.

“I hurt your master? Hmph. You wanted to kill me—was I supposed to just stand there and let you?” Lin Le’s voice was cold as ice.

Blood stained his lips, and the reckless use of the Celestial Heights Art to absorb spiritual energy had left him gravely injured. He was in no mood for kindness.

“I’m already burning with rage. If you come any closer, I won’t stop at just crippling an arm!” Lin Le snapped.

“You—” Wu Dong seethed, but Tu Manjiang seized his arm.

“Dongzi, enough!” Tu Manjiang’s voice was low and grave.

“We lost because we were weaker. I admit defeat.” At last, Tu Manjiang yielded.

“Master…” Wu Dong protested, unwilling.

“Silence!” Tu Manjiang’s eyes blazed with anger, and Wu Dong dared not utter another word.

“You should thank your master. Had you tried, you’d already be dead!” Lin Le said coldly.

He turned and, with a single punch, struck a tree as thick as a man’s embrace.

With a deafening crack, Lin Le’s fist bored straight through the trunk!

Wu Dong gasped, sucking in a sharp breath.

Only now did he fully grasp the situation. His opponent’s strength was far beyond what he’d imagined.

First, he himself had been defeated in a single blow. Then, his master’s arm was ruined. Lin Le’s power was undeniable.

This was not someone he could afford to provoke!

Wu Dong’s heart plummeted into despair.

“We lost; I admit it. Kill me if you must, but please spare my disciple,” Tu Manjiang pleaded earnestly.

“Leave. I never want to see you again,” Lin Le replied icily.

“What, you’re letting us go?” Tu Manjiang was taken aback.

“Say another word and I might change my mind,” Lin Le warned, his gaze turning cold.

“Let’s go.” Tu Manjiang dared not linger. He dragged Wu Dong away, fleeing as fast as he could.

“Boss Tu…” Zhao Mingyi called out, but Tu Manjiang was already gone without a trace.

Zhao Mingyi and his son Zhao Hu were paralyzed with terror. Never could they have imagined that even the mighty Tu King Kong would fall to Lin Le, and so utterly—only to be spared by his mercy.

They dared not linger a moment longer and bolted.

“Trying to run?” Lin Le sneered, kicking two stones at his feet.

A surge of powerful energy enveloped the stones, sending them crashing into the backs of the fleeing father and son.

With a dull thud, Zhao Mingyi and Zhao Hu were hurled forward, spitting blood as they hit the ground.

“Weren’t you running? Why stop now?” Lin Le strode over, voice cold as winter.

“Brother Le! Please spare us!” Zhao Mingyi dropped to his knees, clutching Lin Le’s leg in desperation.

“Brother Le, we’ll never dare again!” Zhao Hu was already bawling in terror.

“Spare you? Never dare again? You’ve hounded my family time and again, tried to kill me today, and you still have the gall to beg for mercy?!”

Lin Le kicked Zhao Mingyi away, then slapped Zhao Hu to the ground.

The Zhao father and son were ordinary men, without the least martial skill. They couldn’t possibly withstand such blows. Their heads spun, and they nearly fainted.

“Today, you can die here!” Lin Le raised his fist, ready to smash Zhao Mingyi’s skull.

“Brother Le, spare us! Please, spare our pitiful lives…” Zhao Mingyi wailed, clinging to Lin Le’s leg.

“Brother Le, we really know we were wrong. Killing us will only dirty your hands. Just treat us like a fart and let us go!” Zhao Hu was so terrified he nearly wet himself.