Die, Replay, Repeat

In a flash, Wen Jinglong shot into the sky, bounding up invisible air steps. His eyes blazed with fierce intent as he pulled back his right fist and let it fly toward Fang Xiu from afar. “Die!”

BOOM!

The air hardened into an unseen fist, charging forward with brutal force. Clouds twisted wildly around it as it raced straight for Fang Xiu’s head. It was a punch fit for a fifth-tier heavy hitter—scary in its sheer strength.

Fang Xiu felt it coming, but his third-tier speed gave him little chance to duck something so fast and formless. And this wasn’t just a regular air strike—it carried the burning sting of Mindflare.

Not that he planned to dodge anyway.

His strength was never about going punch-for-punch. It was about staying alive. Maybe once he unlocked his Domain, he could slug it out with a fifth-tier on even ground—but right now, at third-tier, the difference was huge.

CRACK!

The air erupted with a sound like a lightning snap, tearing through the clouds and leaving a rough gash behind. Half of Fang Xiu’s head blew apart under the hit.

Wen Jinglong smirked, sure he’d scored a fatal shot. Then—something unreal happened.

Even with half his head missing, Fang Xiu didn’t waver. His one leftover eye, a glowing Blood Pupil, zeroed in on Wen Jinglong, while the torn edge of his mouth curled into a taunting grin.

Red flesh threads sprouted from the wound, twisting and knitting back together. In seconds, his head was good as new.

“What the—?!” Wen Jinglong’s mouth fell open. Everything he’d learned said this couldn’t happen.

No matter how wild Fang Xiu’s tricks were, he was still human. Humans needed brains—smash that, and the lights go out. No mind, no fight. Done.

What he didn’t get was that Fang Xiu had ditched that flaw ages ago. After hitting third-tier and fully blending Nightmare into his mind, he’d cut his consciousness loose from his body.

His body could stand alone now, free and tough. When Fang Xiu walked into someone else's dream, it was actually his mind sliding into someone else’s head. So losing half a skull—or even all of it—didn’t faze him. His consciousness kept rolling, forged by Nightmare and unbreakable.

And as long as his mind stayed sharp, his body could fix anything. Pain was his spark, patching him up—so long as he had Spiritual Energy to spare.

Outside the Land Between, a fifth-tier might wear him down eventually, run him dry until he dropped. But here? With a bottomless pool of Spiritual Energy to pull from, he’d drag any fifth-tier down to the pit with him.

“I’ll smash you to nothing—let’s see you crawl back from that!” Wen Jinglong bellowed, rage swallowing his shock. “Eight Gods Vacuum Attack!”

His fists turned into a blur, like he’d grown a dozen arms. He pounded the air nonstop, each hit sparking a loud booming sound. The friction lit up trails of white smoke, the air bending solid under his barrage. Hundreds of air fists formed in the haze, blasting toward Fang Xiu like a machine gun on full tilt.

The power was unreal, a nonstop storm that seemed to crack the sky wide open.

The air howled as the hits slammed home, each fist smashing a piece of Fang Xiu—arms, chest, legs—breaking him apart chunk by chunk in a wave of wreckage.

Something strange went down.

Fang Xiu’s body burst with ugly craters, blood and flesh flying under Wen Jinglong’s nonstop punches. The hundred hits tore him apart, turning him into a bloody wreck. Anyone watching would’ve bet he was gone for good.

But then—the very next moment hit.

The gory pile jerked and twisted. Like a geyser of blood and meat, it shot up, stacking higher until it shaped back into a person. Fang Xiu stood there, whole again.

“Impossible!” Wen Jinglong’s brain spun, his grip on reality slipping. Blown to bits and still kicking? The Eight Gods Vacuum Attack was his best shot, a move that ate up big chunks of Spiritual Energy.

And yet, Fang Xiu shrugged it off like it was a breeze.

Doubt crept in. Wen Jinglong froze—he didn’t want to keep swinging if it just meant wearing himself out while Fang Xiu laughed in his face.

Down below, the others stared, jaws slack, until Lu Ziming’s eyes sharpened. “I’ve figured it out! He’s like Taotie—they both thrive off Specters to keep running. Cut the Specters, and they’re done!”

His breakthrough didn’t lift their spirits, though. Even if he’d pegged Fang Xiu’s trick—and Taotie’s—so what? The Land Between was swarming with Specters.

Spotting the weak point didn’t mean they could use it. It just dragged their mood down further.

They had to admit it: Fang Xiu wasn’t messing around. Here, he really couldn’t be touched.

Fighting a guy you couldn’t drop? Nobody wanted to drag that out.

Wen Jinglong clenched his jaw. “Alright, Fang Xiu, I’ll hand it to you—we can’t beat you. But you can’t get us either. That clunky Taotie’s not winning any races, is it? If we take off, you’re not keeping up. So why drag out this deadlock? Let’s call it square. With you in, we could team up, stack Spirit Money, and ditch this hole quicker.”

“Oh?” Fang Xiu’s voice stayed flat, unbothered. “You trap me, hit me, then see you’re outgunned—so now it’s truce time? You really think you can call all the shots.”

“Skip the snark,” Lu Ziming jumped in, calm but firm. “Wen Jinglong’s got a point. Your Taotie’s no speed demon. If you keep this fight going and we split, what’s next? You up for a long chase where nobody comes out ahead? Join us instead.”

Fang Xiu’s eyes landed on Lu Ziming, a mocking spark flashing—like he was looking at a clown. “Sure, Taotie’s sluggish. But what if I plant it right outside Yue Lai Inn? What’s your plan then?”

Their faces soured fast.

Lu Ziming huffed. “If you block the inn, I’ll open up my woodshed for everyone to bunk in.”

“I’ve got a doghouse—room for two,” Wen Jinglong tossed in.

“My bathroom’s free,” another piped up.

One by one, they listed their backup spots, splitting up their rough hideaways. Then they turned to Fang Xiu, smirking.

“See, Fang Xiu? Loads of places to crash in the Land Between. You can’t cover them all. We’ll just grab a new spot daily—good luck tracking us.”

“Really?” Fang Xiu nodded, cool as ever. “Do what you want.”

With that, he stepped onto Taotie’s massive bulk and… strolled off.

The group blinked, totally thrown. He just—walked away? What was that about? Was he cool with a truce, or off to lock down the inn? They swapped confused glances, completely stumped.

Translator's note: Eight Gods Vacuum Attack—pretty sure the author borrowed it from Naruto.