Chapter Fifty: The Unmatched Aura of Invincibility

Chapter Fifty: The Unmatched Power

Old Taoist Zhou never expected that such a small hammer could be so heavy—surely it weighed no less than ten thousand pounds. Caught unprepared without channeling his internal energy, he let it slip from his grasp, and it crashed to the ground. Blood streamed from both his hands as he stared in shock at the short-handled hammer at his feet. Suddenly, he released his protective inner energy outward and bent low to seize the hammer’s handle once more.

Wu Hong had been watching coldly from the sidelines. He was no fool and could clearly see that Old Taoist Zhou coveted his weapon. Zhou, now shielded in energy, appeared to easily lift the hammer again and examined it closely. The more he looked, the more alarmed he became. He could not discern what material the hammer was forged from; it was impossibly heavy, and all he could tell was that it looked like fine steel.

But that was impossible. For a hammer of such small size to weigh over ten thousand pounds, it could not possibly be mere steel.

“Haha! I’ll be taking my leave now!” Old Taoist Zhou suddenly laughed wildly as he looked at the hammer in his hand. In a flash, he spun around and leapt away, intending to escape. He feared Wu Hong’s overwhelming strength and dreaded the possibility of being hunted down. Zhou was proud of his lightness skill, convinced he could flee with the divine weapon in hand.

But he forgot that he was surrounded by other formidable fighters. Just as he turned to flee, a shout rose from the crowd: “Where do you think you’re going, Zhou? How can a man of your reputation commit such an act?” The speaker’s eyes, however, betrayed his own greed.

Old Taoist Zhou had underestimated these people of the martial world. Though he was a mid-level marrow-refining expert, among this crowd were hundreds of others at the same level. As soon as he took a step, he felt dozens of sword auras assailing him from behind, his face turning pale.

Realizing he could not withstand such a massed attack, he quickly drew Wu Hong’s hammer from his robes, as if it were a treasured possession, and tried to infuse it with his internal energy. But nothing happened.

“What? How can this be?” Zhou exclaimed in astonishment. He had seen clearly before: when Wu Hong channeled his energy into the hammer, it grew larger with the wind.

But now, nothing happened at all. Unable to dodge in time, Zhou was struck in several places by invisible sword energy.

Horrific wounds gaped open across his body, blood flowing freely. Greed had driven him, but one must live to enjoy one's spoils. Before anyone could launch a second wave of attacks, Zhou hurled the hammer at one of his own long-standing rivals, a sly glint in his eye as he did so.

His rival, seeing the hammer flying toward him at what seemed a manageable speed, was overjoyed and reached out to catch it. A sickening crack rang out—the bones in both his arms shattered, hanging limp at his sides—and the hammer, unstoppable, crashed into his chest with a thunderous blow.

Blood spurted from his mouth as he died on the spot.

Everyone was stunned. Old Taoist Zhou took the opportunity to escape, leaving chaos in his wake.

Wu Hong continued to watch calmly, thinking to himself that the world was full of hypocrites and braggarts, all in need of enlightenment to avoid eternal damnation.

Seeing Zhou’s rival killed with a single blow, the crowd was gripped with terror, yet all the more frantically fought to seize the hammer for themselves.

“Why must you do this? What are you fighting for? That weapon is mine!” Wu Hong shook his head helplessly.

Only now did everyone recall that this young man before them was, in fact, a martial master of terrifying skill.

With Wu Hong’s words, dozens of powerful figures turned their eyes to him. He channeled his energy into his palm, which instantly grew to hundreds of meters in size.

With a sudden sweep of his arm, the massive energy hand descended from above—not especially fast, so that the strongest among them could leap aside in time.

But those who had not even reached the bone-refining stage of martial arts found themselves instantly immobilized by the oppressive force that enveloped them.

With a deafening crash, the enormous energy hand struck the earth, just as before—causing the ground to tremble and the rocks to shatter. Everyone was so awestruck that they forgot to attack Wu Hong.

He withdrew his hand, and where it had landed was now a gigantic handprint, hundreds of meters wide and several meters deep into the hardened earth.

All stared in shock at the massive imprint Wu Hong had left, their faces drained of color. Divine weapons were indeed wondrous, but who among them could withstand such a display of martial power? He truly stood peerless in the world.

It seemed only the most renowned titans of the martial world could hope to resist such might. The crowd exchanged glances, all inwardly aghast.

Wu Hong strolled calmly to the hammer, bent down, and lifted it effortlessly with one hand, glancing around.

The hammer, heavy beyond measure, seemed weightless in his grasp. Only now did everyone realize that Wu Hong had picked up the hammer without channeling any energy at all.

In other words, he wielded it with nothing but his physical strength.

Their fear of him only deepened.

“Greed is the seed of disaster,” Wu Hong remarked casually, putting away his weapon and walking toward the cave in Monkey Valley.

The monkeys who had survived the massacre stood frozen in place, the shock Wu Hong had given them far too overwhelming.

Even animals know fear; they are not born courageous, but only differ from humans in their environment, which shapes their nature.

No one dared step forward to stop Wu Hong.

Yet some martial experts were unwilling to abandon the chance to obtain the legendary manual.

With the monkey king dead and so many martial artists gathered, the surviving monkeys had fled deep into the forest, not daring to reappear.

Wu Hong strolled into the monkey cave, which was vast—no less than a thousand square meters.

A stream flowed through the cave, its source unknown. There were no stone chambers, just an empty expanse at the far end, where a stone table stood with a single object atop it: an earth-colored manual.

Wu Hong paid it no mind. He cared only whether there was a trace of the “Rebirth Realm” in this cave.

But after a thorough search, he found nothing suspicious.

He searched all the way to the stream. The stones in the water, worn smooth over the years by the slow current, came in shades of green, red, and blue—surely worth a fortune if taken outside.

Wu Hong casually scooped up a few and dropped them into his spatial ring.

Meanwhile, the crowd of martial artists waited anxiously at the cave entrance, unable to decide whether to go in or out. Though they were many, their hearts were not united. If they entered together to attack Wu Hong, it would surely be a bloody battle.

There is a saying: one man is a tiger, two are wolves, three are sheep.

How much more so with ten thousand martial artists, each wary of the other, yet all craving the manual?

With Wu Hong, so formidable, inside the cave, not a single person dared cross the threshold—all stood guard at the entrance.

As Wu Hong picked up another gemstone, a strange little fish suddenly appeared in the stream, as though it had swum in from some hidden source. It moved slowly, its body mottled, resembling a flatfish with eyes on its back. Its whole shape was fan-like, with two tails trailing behind. Though it swam slowly, it could move against the current.

The little fish seemed unafraid of Wu Hong, swimming right to the bank. Wu Hong reached into the water, intending to lift it with his hand.

Suddenly, the fish opened its mouth and bit his finger with lightning speed. Wu Hong, quick as he was, failed to avoid it. He felt a sharp pain and quickly withdrew his hand, only to see a wound on his finger.

Gold-tinged blood oozed from the bite—a shocking sight. Wu Hong’s skin was now so tough that ordinary blades could not cut him; anyone below the marrow-refining stage could not harm him, even with focused energy attacks.

Yet this tiny fish had pierced his skin.

Wu Hong frowned, channeling energy into his hand as he reached into the water again. Having eaten a piece of Wu Hong’s flesh, the fish’s body turned blood-red, though why, he could not tell.

This time, Wu Hong successfully scooped it from the water.

But the little fish brought him yet another surprise. The moment its body touched the air, it began to transform. Its bones shifted instantly, its appearance changing as it slowly sprouted feathers.

Its tails turned into talons like those of an eagle, its claws sharp as golden hooks.

This little creature now radiated a faint glow, and in moments, what had been a fish became a tiny, bald-headed vulture-like bird.

“How extraordinary!” Those outside the cave could only see Wu Hong crouched by the stream, staring blankly, making no move toward the legendary manual on the stone table.

Just as Wu Hong stood dumbfounded by this marvel, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind: “Papa!” It was obviously the voice of a child, not yet three years old, tender and innocent, as if just learning to speak.

Startled, Wu Hong looked around but saw no one. Then he glanced at the palm-sized, vulture-like bird, which was now gazing at him unblinkingly with its beady eyes...