Duoluo Dalu: Path to Godhood

It was the same person who had awakened his Martial Soul just before him!

His Martial Soul was a bat, and his face looked just as sickly and weak.

Back then, he merely looked unhealthy, nothing like the current state, which gave off the vibe of someone overdosed and on the brink of collapse.

Fang Ling remembered that frail boy. He was a half-level innate soul power user, the same level as Yu Xiaogang.

If they were the same person...

In just over a year, someone who only had half-level soul power had managed to become a Soul Master before Fang Ling?

And not only that, they had awakened their Martial Souls at about the same time, yet this person had grown from a child to a young man and already possessed a hundred-year soul ring?

There was only one possibility Fang Ling could think of, a Fallen Soul Master.

Such a rapid power boost and physical maturation could only be explained by becoming a Fallen Soul Master.

After all, bats can drink blood.

Those sharp fangs and the weak appearance vividly demonstrated it to Fang Ling.

It also made sense how he ended up lying in the middle of the road, just in time for them to cross paths.

It was midsummer, and afternoon was the hottest part of the day.

Carriages on the road weren't non-existent, but they were extremely rare.

Fallen Soul Masters advanced rapidly, but they all had their issues.

This one was likely having an episode, and happened to be found by him.

Fang Ling originally planned to take a detour and run straight back to Notting City to report this to the Martial Soul Hall.

He hadn't expected the young man to chase him into the forest and try to kill him.

Clearly, the man had marked him as a target!

Fang Ling sneered inwardly.

What luck, to run into a rookie Fallen Soul Master.

He probably had just absorbed a soul ring and wasn't at all skilled in combat.

He was worse even than Wang Sheng, who only relied on brute force and could take hits.

Compared to Fang Ling, who was small and nimble, this man, at 1.7 meters tall, dared to chase him into a dense, complex forest?

Fang Ling had trained his Level 1 movement technique in the academy's grove, giving him the agility to weave through tightly packed trees.

But what did this sickly youth have?

Just a body full of evil aura?

As expected, he got caught in the branches.

Fang Ling seized the opportunity, swung his scythe, and struck back!

The forest was dense, no one could see what happened inside.

He had long wanted to test how many points killing a Soul Master would grant.

Fallen Soul Masters were fair game for anyone to kill.

This was a rule set by the Martial Soul Hall, both great empires dared not defy it.

Not only would there be no consequences, but there might even be a reward.

The young man retracted one claw, and the other swiftly stabbed toward Fang Ling's eyes.

If that long arm hit, it might have killed Fang Ling instantly or at least gouged out an eye.

It looked dangerous, but it was exactly what Fang Ling had expected.

He hadn't trained his scythe technique for nothing.

With a slight tilt of his right hand, the scythe grazed the youth's arm and deflected the attack.

The strike missed.

At some point, Fang Ling had already raised his left hand, aiming at a vulnerable spot.

"Hah!" he shouted, eyes gleaming.

The scythe vanished from his right hand and instantly reappeared in his left.

It shook like a spirit snake, and he struck between the youth's legs.

He didn't slash, too much pain might drive the opponent into a frenzy.

If the man lashed out recklessly despite the pain, Fang Ling would be forced to flee.

So instead, he used the back of the blade, it was thicker and wouldn't sever anything.

As long as the hit landed, his powerful arms would let this Fallen Soul Master experience the meaning of "devastating damage" and "lingering pain."

The dense nerves in that area were enough to severely disrupt his battle posture.

Crack!

The blow was so forceful that even the youth's pubic bone seemed to fracture with a sharp snap.

"Aaaah!"

A short scream escaped his lips. His eyes bulged, face flushed crimson like a monkey's backside.

Cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead.

Instinctively, he wanted to hunch over and clutch the injured spot.

But remembering they were still fighting, he forced himself upright in an awkward posture.

Fang Ling seized the moment, adjusted his position with a quick step,

His left prosthetic leg, now reinforced with ironwood and wrapped in metal, kicked the youth's flailing arm.

The youth's arm got stuck in a tree branch.

The scythe appeared again, this time aimed at the vulnerable neck.

Fang Ling lunged forward, twisted mid-air, and slashed upward in a diagonal arc, blood sprayed everywhere.

Then he pushed off the youth's chest with his right foot, retreating to a safe distance to observe.

The pale-faced young man collapsed to his knees, clutching his throat, gasping with a hoarse "huh huh."

He gave Fang Ling a final, resentful glance, then his vision turned dark, plunging into eternal silence.

Fang Ling didn't look at him again.

A hazy gray panel appeared in his eyes, showing new changes.

The progress bar surged and instantly filled, producing one point.

Points: 0 → 1

Killing a Soul Master granted a full point!

Just as expected, killing Soul Masters was the way to go!

A glint of excitement flashed in Fang Ling's eyes.

He immediately allocated that one point to the Soul Power stat.

The point returned to zero, while Soul Power changed from: 5 (37%) → 6 (37%)

Level 6!

With just four more levels, Fang Ling could apply to the academy for a soul ring.

Then he could graduate early and enroll in an intermediate Soul Master academy in a major city.

The primary academy was just a stepping stone.

Fang Ling's goals were clear, he would never stay here for six years like Tang San and Xiao Wu, only to end up in that joke of an academy, Shrek.

His short-term target was the Great Soul Arena.

Now, Fang Ling had already felt the limits of solo training.

He craved structured learning to improve his shortcomings.

The higher one climbed the Soul Master path, the tougher it became.

Fang Ling wanted to specialize in close combat, he couldn't afford to be impatient or careless.

Mastery of technique was especially crucial for a close-combat Soul Master.

He didn't need to worry about Soul Power, he needed more time to refine his skills.

And later, he would ride on Bibi Dong's momentum to soar in the City of Slaughter!

Rustle,

The sound of branches parting and leaves brushing signaled someone's approach.

Fang Ling, about to habitually loot the body, stopped.

He stepped back and fixed his gaze on the direction of the sound, warily raising his scythe.

Who would be out here in this heat at midday?

In the next moment, three handsome young men appeared before Fang Ling.

They wore tight white uniforms trimmed with gold thread. On their left chests were embroidered three pairs of white wings, centered with a gem and the character for "Wu" (Martial).

They were from the Martial Soul Hall!

Three pairs of wings, symbols of the Six-Winged Sacred Angel.

They must have come to hunt the Evil Soul Master.

Fang Ling let out a quiet breath of relief.

Their eyes swept from the corpse, kneeling on the ground, rear in the air, to Fang Ling, sizing him up repeatedly.

The leading man studied Fang Ling's scythe and prosthetic leg with growing interest, then nodded and said:

"Kid, was this your doing?"

"Of course," Fang Ling replied without hesitation.

Clicking his tongue in admiration, the leader immediately released his Martial Soul.

A pair of white wings spread open, emitting a soft divine light, finally putting Fang Ling at ease.

Seeing this, he reached out a hand and smiled.

"Good kid! Let's get acquainted."

"Angel Legion, Demon Hunting Camp, Martial Soul Hall. Squad Leader, Qian Yao."

"Squad Member, Qian Chaolong."

"Squad Member, Qian Feiguang."

"I'm Fang Ling, still studying at Notting Academy." Fang Ling paused, then shook hands with a smile.

He made a point not to fawn over the Martial Soul Hall, he would walk his own path.

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