C20 It Doesn't Matter Who You Mess With!(1)

After the Third Elder finished speaking, golden patterns like veins spread from his heart across his entire body. His white robe was shattered by the force, and from his Universe Bag, a set of golden armor flew out. The pieces of armor, reminiscent of Mark 42, attached themselves to the Third Elder's muscular frame one by one.

The terrifying aura emanating from him made the disciples of Waning Crescent tremble. The Third Elder, who was typically unassuming and even seen as lazy, was now a figure of sheer terror. Recognizing his power, the disciples wisely scattered.

Xiaoming, having learned about the ruins, now understood the secrets of those individuals. He was a step behind, but he hadn't anticipated that Waning Crescent would be bold enough to venture into developing the ruins. He knew that if their actions were discovered, it could spell the end for the sect.

For the Third Elder, today was an auspicious day. The number of treasures within the ruins was unknown, but capturing the demon before him and delivering him to the Immortal World would surely earn the sect a Heavenly level cultivation technique. This alone could elevate the sect to a second-tier status. The thought brought an uncontrollable, wild smile to his lips.

Xiaoming, growing impatient as he waited, glanced at his watch. He had been holding his pose for a full minute. Turning to the person known as Senior Brother Xiao, he asked, "Has he lost his mind? How much longer is he going to just stand there?"

Before anyone could reply, the Third Elder's energy erupted like a Saiyan powering up, causing the surrounding houses to collapse under the surge of his formidable energy. Ruo Lan, standing nearby, stepped aside. "Even when a lion hunts a rabbit, it uses all its strength. I hope you won't be killed by my punch; that would be dreadfully dull."

With hands ablaze in golden flames, the Third Elder charged at Xiaoming like a runaway train. His powerful strike aimed straight for Xiaoming's face, sending him flying and crashing through two houses before coming to a halt.

"You don't seem to possess the combat strength befitting Oneness. It appears you're a dual cultivator," Xiaoming said, rising from the rubble with a tone so even it suggested he had everything under control.

"To withstand a punch from me, you're clearly no ordinary opponent. It's been ages since I've encountered an external demon. The last one to face me was Chen Qing from Riverfall."

"Chen Qing..." Xiaoming fell silent upon hearing the name, seemingly lost in thought.

"Of course, you wouldn't know him. Such figures are like shooting stars, fleeting and soon extinguished. He met his end at the hands of the allied forces." The third elder's smug look was as if he was on top of the world.

The third elder burst into golden flames, his armor radiating a sinister red glow. Xiaoming's propulsion system flared up behind him, and they were once again locked in fierce combat.

As soon as they engaged, the battle escalated to a fever pitch, with the sound of sonic booms and impacts filling the air. While the cultivators spectated, Ruolan slipped away unnoticed.

Suddenly, as if by agreement, the two combatants broke apart. The third elder's fiery energy solidified into heavy gauntlets.

Meanwhile, Xiaoming soared higher, his hands producing a stream of metal that coalesced into a sniper rifle. He fired six shots at the pursuing third elder. The bullets flew at incredible speed, and the elder, relying on his battle-honed instincts, narrowly evaded five. The last bullet lodged itself in his armor.

The disciples on the ground weren't as fortunate. Three were struck by the bullets. Though their wounds seemed superficial, the bullets were dissolving inside them, spreading rapidly with each heartbeat.

The hit victims' skin turned black and necrotic. As they screamed in agony, their dantians erupted in chaos and exploded, leaving them to perish in a gruesome demise.

On a microscopic level, a maelstrom of high-energy particles wreaked havoc within their bodies, disintegrating DNA and RNA at an imperceptible speed.

Despite their superiority in many respects, cultivators share the same genetic makeup as humans, composed of the simplest cells. All human activity depends on DNA for regulation. Without it, cellular anarchy ensues.

After a cultivator's death, their true essence within the dantian would scatter. Yet, this cultivator wasn't dead but merely cancerous, with the constraints of their genes utterly failing. Ultimately, the three became mere caricatures in the art world.

The Third Elder, upon seeing the bizarre deaths of the three disciples on the ground, shuddered at the thought of his own close call. Had he been the one struck, he would have been flayed alive.

In the midst of his shock, Xiaoming descended rapidly. His sniper rifle morphed into a stream of metal, transforming into an eight-barreled machine gun. By the time the Third Elder realized what was happening, it was too late.

Xiaoming, prepared for battle, unleashed a barrage of fire on the Third Elder. The casings, ejected rapidly by the whirring motor, scattered like raindrops, while the ensuing smoke and dust obscured the view.

The disciples of Waning Crescent watched the Third Elder disintegrate in the sky, a chill running through their hearts.

The cultivator who had earlier taunted Xiaoming was now attempting to slip away unnoticed. Xiaoming, having just stowed his weapon, sensed something was amiss. Who knew a machine gun could produce explosive effects? In that instant, Xiaoming's gauntlet expanded, and he instinctively threw a punch to his left.

Force is reciprocal; the Third Elder was merely pushed back a few meters, while Xiaoming, caught off guard, was hurled into the rubble.

At the critical moment when Xiaoming's punch was about to land, two golden palms shot out from his sleeve, absorbing the impact. This was a protective measure bestowed by the Sect Master before his departure.

Despite the Third Elder's survival lifting the spirits of the disciples, he knew he had inflicted little damage. Xiaoming's armor remained pristine, necessitating a swift conclusion to the fight.

Rising from the rubble, he assessed the force of the recent blow. "I've gathered enough data. Your strength is at the peak of the second stage, but you're not making good use of the opportunity I've given you."

With those words, the indentations in his armor swiftly reverted to their original form.

Then, he noticed a young girl half-buried in the debris—it was Zhang Xiaolan, who was to be married the following day. Gazing into her dilated eyes, his heart clenched. "Rest assured, I will avenge you. They won't escape," he murmured, gently closing the girl's eyes. After all, he was no cultivator.

Xiaoming rose to his feet slowly as a piercing sonic boom erupted overhead. He lifted his right arm, and his armor extended into a shield, blocking the Third Elder's knife-hand strike.

The violent collision dispersed the smoke and dust, and the stone-paved ground beneath them cracked like a spiderweb. The shaky courtyard walls, unable to withstand the devastation, collapsed, with cracks spreading rapidly in every direction. The White Clothed Cultivators were forced to disperse to avoid being caught in the aftermath.

Suddenly, the golden flame clinging to the Third Elder's hand snuffed out as if it were a candle flame caught in a gust of wind.

"What!"

Golden patterns ignited on the shield, and without giving the Third Elder time to react, they slithered onto Xiaoming's right arm like serpents.

"One good turn deserves another."

With a punch, Xiaoming struck the golden-armored abdomen, unleashing all the absorbed golden flames directly into the core, sending the Third Elder flying with the sheer force of the blow.