Douluo Continent: My name is Yang Jian, and I achieved sainthood through my physical body

A burning rage filled her heart, the resentment of defeat clung to her mind, and there was also a fear that she herself was unwilling to admit.

She was acutely aware of her own life force rapidly slipping away.

The primordial divine power kept dissipating, and no matter how hard she tried to hold on, she couldn't stop her life force from fading away little by little.

The Rakshasa God clenched his teeth, making a grinding sound as he bit down.

Dark purple divine power erupted from within him once more, this time with countless dark red threads intertwined within it.

The silk threads are hidden beneath the skin, constantly pulsating on the surface of the body, like throbbing blood vessels.

She chose to burn her primordial divine power.

This was her last trump card: abandoning her fundamental nature to temporarily boost her power. The shattered fragments of armor were wrapped in dark red threads and unstablely reattached to her body.

The atmosphere of decay briefly warmed up, and the embers that were on the verge of being extinguished reignited with a faint flame.

She shook her body violently, loosening the mud covering her lower body. She gripped the Rakshasa Scythe, which was stuck in the mud, with both hands again, and the purple light on the scythe's surface shone brightly once more.

Although the light was much dimmer than before, it still stubbornly flickered on and on.

The Rakshasa Goddess raised her head, looking up at Yang Jian, who had transformed into a thousand-foot giant. She mobilized all the remaining strength in her body and swung her demonic scythe, the blade unleashing a long, dark purple light that shot straight toward Yang Jian's chest.

The light blade had barely traveled a meter before signs of disintegration became apparent. An unseen force was eroding the edges of the blade, and the light rapidly faded from the outer edge towards the center.

When the light blade reached Yang Jian, only a blurry purple outline remained, which continued to fade and dissolve.

Yang Jian didn't even have the thought of raising his hand to defend himself.

The broken blade of light struck his dark golden skin, instantly shattering into tiny specks of light that drifted away into the night sky without even leaving a faint scratch on his skin.

The last breath of the Rakshasa God completely dissipated.

She stood at the bottom of the deep pit, the magic scythe hanging down, its tip touching the ground. Her chest heaved violently, each breath growing shorter and weaker.

She looked down at her shattered armor, her constantly draining divine power, and her hands that could barely hold onto her weapons.

A moment later, she looked up again at the towering giant above her.

Her lips trembled incessantly as she tried to express her last remaining thoughts, but the churning blood in her throat choked her words, and in the end, she couldn't utter a sound.

The disintegration began from within her body.

Fragments of armor, like rocks weathered by wind and sun, crumbled and fell to the ground one after another, their soft, resounding thuds echoing across the earth.

She stood amidst the shattered pieces, an invisible force disintegrating her body from the inside out.

The dark purple eyes had lost their former luster, and the light in their pupils was like a candle flame extinguished by the night wind, flickering weakly a few times before falling into complete stillness.

As his physical body collapsed, the Rakshasa God's last consciousness gave rise to a thought.

As long as her primordial spirit remains, she will have a chance to make a comeback.

A slender, thin, almost transparent dark purple primordial spirit detached from the broken body and slowly rose into the air from the fragments of armor scattered on the ground.

She deliberately concealed her presence, preparing to escape the woods silently before Yang Jian could notice.

Just as his primordial spirit rose to Yang Jian's waist, the thousand-foot-long three-pointed double-edged sword was suddenly activated.

The massive weapon defied its usual image of being cumbersome, moving with agility and speed. A thin, silvery-white film covered the blade as it slashed horizontally.

The delicate threads of primordial spirit were precisely severed by the blade.

The two severed primordial spirit hovered in the air for only a moment before a violent tremor erupted within it. The light of the primordial spirit rapidly decayed and disintegrated, turning into countless tiny white specks of light, like dandelion seeds scattered by the wind, dissipating into the deep night.

As the light faded, a soft sob quietly escaped its lips.

The sound was short and suppressed, as if it were forced out from deep in the throat.

The sound traveled very close to the target area, disappearing completely after only a few feet.

There were no clear words in the voice, but Yang Jian could clearly feel the emotions contained within it.

The resentment after defeat, the incomprehensible confusion, and the inability to understand why he suffered such a crushing defeat until the very end of his life.

The first-level deity, Rakshasa God, thus perished completely.

Yang Jian withdrew his supernatural power of "Law of Heaven and Earth".

Its towering, massive body rapidly shrank, its thousand-foot length gradually receding, then five hundred feet, one hundred feet, fifty feet, ten feet, until it instantly returned to its original, ordinary form.

He landed softly, his feet treading on the churned earth and broken pieces of armor.

Moonlight shone on him, revealing several deep and shallow tears in his white robes, and a layer of dried golden blood remained at the corner of his mouth.

At this moment, he was like a divine weapon that had been sheathed after a fierce battle, its sharpness concealed, yet still containing terrifying power within.

He glanced at the spot where the Rakshasa God had disappeared.

All that remained on the ground was a pile of broken fragments, the soil scorched and deformed by divine power.

A faint purple aura lingered in the air, like the embers left after something had burned out.

Yang Jian withdrew his gaze, no longer lingering there, and strode towards the edge of the forest.

The evening breeze in the forest ruffled his clothes, and the dry branches under his feet crunched softly as he walked away from the battlefield where a god had just been buried.

Chapter 244 The Wrath of the Asura God

High in the heavens, amidst swirling clouds and mist, a magnificent and solemn temple floats silently.

This place is outside the spatial boundaries of Douluo Continent and belongs to the exclusive domain of the gods.

The Asura God stood alone in front of a smooth, flat black stone wall.

A crimson light flowed across the surface of the stone wall, slowly shifting and occasionally flashing through blurry images. Forests, the cold moonlight, a thousand-foot giant, and a dark purple demonic scythe all appeared in the scene.

When the scene showed the moment when the Rakshasa God's primordial spirit was shattered, the red light on the stone wall surface suddenly paused and then began to slowly fade away.

The Asura God's face was extremely gloomy, and a heavy aura of malevolence surrounded him.

He clenched his fist tightly at his side, his knuckles making a soft, crisp sound as he squeezed them together, but soon he loosened his grip.

He gazed at the stone wall for a long time until the red light completely faded, the stone wall turned back into ordinary dark rock, and the image disappeared completely.

His lips moved slightly, his mind filled with countless thoughts, but in the end he didn't utter a single word.

His gaze was fixed on a spot on the empty stone wall, where there was nothing but dark rock.

After a long silence, golden light shone at the entrance of the temple.

The sea god walked slowly into the hall, bathed in golden light, his light blue robe flowing gracefully, and a trident in his hand.

As soon as the sea god entered, he saw the Asura god standing alone.

He didn't speak rashly, but stopped a few steps away, his heavy trident pressed against the ground.

Inside the empty temple, the two supreme deities remained silent for a long time.

The oppressive silence in the main hall made people feel suffocated.

After a long silence, Poseidon broke it first. He spoke slowly and deliberately, each word carefully considered.

"Stop."

The Asura God did not turn around; his gaze remained fixed on the stone wall before him, his suppressed sharpness hidden in his words.

“He killed the Rakshasa God, who was a first-level deity.”

Poseidon nodded slightly; he had seen the whole thing clearly.

“I am aware of this. I have been watching the battle in the lower realm the whole time, and you have been watching the whole time as well. He has achieved this much in such a short time. His growth rate has far exceeded your expectations.”

The Asura God clenched his fist again, then slowly released it, lowering his voice, his tone still filled with resentment.

"Even so, what can we do?"

The sea god gazed at the Asura god, whose expression was gloomy in the dim light, and did not respond to the question.

After gazing at him for a moment, the sea god turned and left the temple. His footsteps echoed in the vast, empty hall before falling completely silent.

The Asura God remained standing before the stone wall, frozen in place like a sculpted statue. His lips moved silently as he murmured the name of the Rakshasa God in his heart, his eyes swirling with fear and deep helplessness.

Yang Jian, who rose to power in the lower realm, has already escaped their control.

……

Douluo Continent, Spirit Hall.

Before the news of Yang Jian's slaying of the Rakshasa God could reach the palace, the violent soul power fluctuations that erupted in the distant forest had already alarmed everyone there.

The powerful energy fluctuations spread out, and even the most obtuse Soul Masters in the Spirit Hall could clearly feel that earth-shattering power.

The square was packed with people.

Many people looked up toward the direction of the forest, their eyes filled with unease.

A group of people gathered at the entrance of the main hall, speaking in hushed tones, speculating about what had happened in the distance.

Some Soul Masters gripped their weapons tightly, their bodies tense, ready to deal with any sudden crisis.

The moment Yang Jian appeared outside the Spirit Hall gate, all eyes turned to him.

Many people opened their mouths, ready to voice their questions, but the words stuck in their throats, unable to be uttered, their thoughts entangled by the shock in their hearts.

Some people instinctively took steps back, as if getting too close to Yang Jian would mean being swept away by a raging torrent. A soft sigh rose from the crowd, audible clearly in the quiet square.

"His Holiness the Pope has returned alive."

A single sentence stirred up a huge wave.

The murmurs rose and fell, the surprise slowly turning into utter shock, and finally everyone felt a complex mix of emotions.

Everyone kept piecing together the clues in their minds. Bibi Dong had transformed into the Rakshasa God to seek revenge, vowing to wipe out everyone from the Spirit Hall. Now, Yang Jian had returned safely, but Bibi Dong had completely disappeared.

Everyone instantly understood the final outcome.

At this moment, everyone's gaze toward Yang Jian completely changed, filled with intense awe and a sense of insurmountable barrier.

They viewed Yang Jian as if he were a towering mountain peak that ordinary people could never climb.

Despite the gazes of awe or astonishment, Yang Jian did not falter.

I walked through the bustling square, squeezed through the crowd, and ignored all sorts of stares as I entered the main hall.

He sat down in the main seat, his posture no different from usual. He leaned back lightly against the chair back, his hands casually resting on the armrests.