Chapter Thirty-Four: The Audacity of Courage

“Waaah!” Seeing the four white tigers he had conjured skewered like a string of beads by the humans across from him, bound and immobilized atop the spire, the White Tiger’s eyes blazed with fury, his lungs ready to burst with rage. “It would have been enough for the beasts to devour you, yet you force me to act personally? You’ve truly angered me!” With these words, the White Tiger, burning with wrath, slammed his fist into the city wall before him, blasting a massive gap through the stone, a testament to his fury.

“Ignorant brat, prepare to die!” Pointing at Zhang Yang, who was challenging him from across the field, the White Tiger thundered, “I’ll tear you apart! Let’s see if you dare act so arrogantly again!” With that, he leapt from the city wall, landing in the center of the arena platform.

‘Damn, this guy is terrifyingly tall up close,’ Zhang Yang thought to himself in surprise as he faced the towering White Tiger, well over three meters in height. From afar, he hadn’t seemed so frightening, but now, standing face to face, Zhang Yang realized just how massive and intimidating his opponent truly was.

Eyeing the spirit sword in Zhang Yang’s hand, the White Tiger sneered, “Let me warn you first—your dull blade is no match for me. If that sword is your only weapon, you don’t even have a one percent chance of victory.”

“What? You’re looking down on me that much?” Zhang Yang could barely stand the taunt. The spirit sword was his pride, his most skilled weapon. Through long practice, he had grown more and more confident in its power. Yet now, in the White Tiger’s mouth, it was nothing but trash—something he could never accept. With a swing of his sword, he slashed at the arrogant beast. “Let’s see if it’s so dull! Take this, you giant!”

As Zhang Yang’s blade flashed toward him, the White Tiger twisted his massive body, seemingly trying to dodge. But the sword had already cut across his chest and belly. As the two passed each other, the White Tiger spun and swung a fist at Zhang Yang, whose agile movements allowed him to dodge and land two more strikes on the beast’s body.

“Excellent!” Qin Xiaochuan, watching Zhang Yang’s swift moves, could not contain his excitement. “That brute is so huge—it looks clumsy. In a fair one-on-one fight, Zhang Yang won’t lose!”

“Take this, you big oaf! Try another strike of my sword!” Dodging another of the White Tiger’s sweeping fists, Zhang Yang seized the chance to slash twice more at the beast’s arm and chest, forcing the White Tiger back several steps. The power behind Zhang Yang’s spirit sword was remarkable; even the colossal White Tiger was left staggering.

“But something’s odd...” Bai Ying frowned as she observed the battle, sensing that something was amiss.

“Look closely—Zhang Yang seems to have the initiative,” Fei Yan chimed in, “but that idiot’s face looks utterly exhausted!”

‘What’s going on? Why can’t I hurt him at all?’ Zhang Yang, facing his opponent, began to feel his strength waning. ‘And not only that, the spiritual energy in my body is depleting at an alarming rate. Why is it vanishing so quickly? And this beast...he seems even bigger than before!’

“I see it now—look at Zhang Yang’s spirit sword!” Noticing the White Tiger’s body swelling even larger, Bai Ying pointed to Zhang Yang’s now noticeably shortened sword. “That beast is devouring Zhang Yang’s spiritual energy—absorbing it for himself!”

“Aha ha ha ha ha ha! You figured it out!” The White Tiger burst into laughter at Bai Ying’s revelation. It was true—his earlier clumsiness had been an act, feigning sluggishness to lure Zhang Yang into striking him repeatedly. Every contact with the spirit sword allowed him to siphon more of Zhang Yang’s energy. Despite his seemingly simple and bumbling appearance, the White Tiger was cunning—using this clever strategy to gorge himself on his opponent’s power. It seemed that any creature capable of becoming a leader among the demons was, in fact, terrifyingly shrewd.

“Well? Still want to play? Your spirit sword is shrinking to the size of a dagger—do you really think you can keep fighting me? Idiot!”

“Don’t look down on me!” Infuriated by the White Tiger’s mockery, Zhang Yang gripped his sword with both hands, forcing it to lengthen once more. “You think that’s all the spiritual energy I have? Keep devouring—I want to see how much you can take!” With that, he thrust his broken sword straight at the White Tiger’s mouth.

Seeing the blade coming for his face, the White Tiger opened his jaws with glee, sucking in Zhang Yang’s spirit sword as if it were a delicacy. As he devoured it, he even remarked how delicious it was, truly feeding on the energy as sustenance.

As he feasted on the sword, the White Tiger’s belly began to swell, unable to digest the rush of spiritual power. When the last trace of Zhang Yang’s energy vanished, the White Tiger had completely consumed the sword. Yet something was amiss. After swallowing Zhang Yang’s spirit energy, he sensed his own reserves were at their absolute limit. Who would have thought that this scrawny, curly-haired fellow harbored so much power—enough to push him to the brink of overload? He would need to finish this quickly.

With that thought, the White Tiger strode toward the fallen Zhang Yang. He had to end this curly-haired human before unforeseen complications arose.

As the White Tiger bore down on him, Zhang Yang pressed his hands to the ground and forced himself upright. Drained of both spiritual energy and strength, he trembled, his body pushed to its limit. Yet, seeing the smug pride on the White Tiger’s face, Zhang Yang’s stubbornness flared. He summoned what little energy he had left, conjuring a spirit sword barely the size of a dagger—his reserves were so depleted he could hardly manifest a weapon at all.

The White Tiger roared with laughter at the sight. “Ha! You can barely stand, and yet you still think you have spiritual energy to spare? Go on—use it all up. If you’re empty, I’ll have a post-meal treat! Ahahaha! Take this!” He lunged, his fist striking Zhang Yang with such speed and force that it sent the young man crashing into the wall, which splintered into a honeycomb of cracks. The White Tiger was no longer hiding his strength—the speed and weight behind his blows had doubled, and this punch had clearly damaged Zhang Yang’s internal organs. Slumped against the wall, Zhang Yang coughed up a mouthful of blood.

“I’ll beat you to death, you hear me? Ahahaha!” Gleefully, the White Tiger clenched his fists and advanced step by step, his body so engorged with stolen energy that he seemed stretched to the limit, moving stiffly like an overinflated ball.

‘That beast’s body looks ready to burst from the energy inside,’ Bai Ying thought as she watched the White Tiger lumber toward Zhang Yang. If just a bit more spiritual energy were forced into him, he might explode from within. Whether Zhang Yang realized this was uncertain, but if he didn’t have enough energy left, his life might end here.

‘Why hasn’t he grown taller like before?’ Zhang Yang wondered, bracing himself against the wall as he struggled to his feet. ‘Not only has he stopped getting taller—he’s growing wider, swelling sideways. Could it be that...he can’t absorb any more of my spiritual energy? If that’s the case...’

“What are you muttering about?” The White Tiger halted, glaring at Zhang Yang across from him. “Are you reciting your last words? Let me send you on your way—pay the price for your recklessness with your life!” With that, he swiped at Zhang Yang, clearly intending to end him with a single blow.

At this critical moment, as the White Tiger’s fatal strike closed in, Zhang Yang summoned the last vestiges of his strength, gathering all remaining spiritual energy into his palm and forming a spirit sword, which he plunged fiercely into the White Tiger’s belly. He was gambling everything—would he be crushed first, or would the White Tiger’s overloaded body burst from this final trace of spiritual energy?

“Are you crazy, Zhang Yang? You know the White Tiger can absorb spiritual energy—why would you keep feeding him? Are you afraid he hasn’t had enough?” Qin Xiaochuan shouted, anger and confusion plain in his voice at Zhang Yang’s seemingly foolish act.

“Hmph!” The White Tiger grunted as he swallowed the last of Zhang Yang’s energy, sneering down at the young man now utterly drained at his feet. “What an idiot—still trying to feed me with your spirit sword? Seeking death? I’ll crush you first, then skin you alive! Next life, don’t be born human!” Deciding he’d had enough of this game, the White Tiger raised a massive foot, aiming to stomp Zhang Yang’s head. With his bulk and the force behind the blow, Zhang Yang would be reduced to a bloody pulp.

But as the White Tiger’s triumphant stomp descended, his belly suddenly split open as though slashed by invisible blades, releasing twin jets of energy. His body convulsed as a violent transformation erupted within. From the gash in his abdomen, a surge of spiritual energy burst forth, propelling the White Tiger upward like a punctured balloon. He spun through the air before slamming into the castle wall with tremendous force, punching a huge hole through the stone before vanishing into the depths of the fortress.