Tamur stood over four meters tall, not far off from Fenghe Shou, but his physique was far burlier and more robust. Slabs of rock-solid muscle covered a chest broad as a wall. As he stood there under the hall's high diagonal lighting, his cast shadow reached almost to Chen Chuan's feet.
Listening to his fluent Great Shun speech, Chen Chuan hummed in acknowledgment and said, "So, what is it Your Excellency desires?"
"What, you came here to negotiate with me? Bah!" Tamur spat on the ground. With a sharp crack, chips of stone scattered, leaving a shallow pit in the floor.
"Stop talking nonsense. You people don't have the slightest intention of negotiating. I laid out my terms to you long ago, and now you come asking me? On this matter, you either agree or refuse—there is no middle ground!"
Chen Chuan glanced at him. The man's tone was resolute. Those who managed to become martial artists were surely not fools; he ought to know what terrifying power an empire like Great Shun could bring to bear.
For him to take this attitude, it was either because he was naturally stubborn—refusing to compromise even while knowing his opponent's strength—or because he had some backing and did not fear a fallout with the Great Shun government.
In any case, Chen Chuan had no intention of debating right and wrong with him. The contest between nations had never cared for such things. The complexities involved were far beyond what a sentence or two could summarize; conflict and cooperation were interwoven throughout, and moralistic judgments could not touch the heart of the matter.
Fortunately, there was no need to consider any of that right now.
He glanced at the jade fragment embedded in the armrest. Since the object was in sight and the man was unwilling to talk reasonably, he would resolve the matter in the most direct manner.
Almost at that very moment, Tamur sensed his intent. His nerves pulled taut instantly, and his frame towered upward. The colossal shadow beneath his feet surged outward, reaching Chen Chuan and continuing to climb until it quickly rose past the top of Chen Chuan's head.
Chen Chuan looked up. Tamur's clothes burst apart, revealing a dark cyan upper body. His hair turned crimson, dancing like flames. From his back, two arms sprouted on each side, while blazing crimson light radiated from all around his frame.
Fangs bared from his face, and his bulging, furious eyes made him resemble a ferocious, malevolent deity under the hall's illumination.
Visage of the Great Heavenly King Molitian.
The Great Heavenly King Molitian was the legendary guardian and war god of the Biesa Khanate. It was this exotic visage that Tamur used as his visualization. Historically, it was this very deity's battle against invading evil gods that allowed the Biesa people to survive.
He himself resonated deeply with this external visage. When faced with oppression and humiliation from the outside world, he could not accept even a momentary slight. Boundless flames of wrath would inevitably surge in his heart, and he would seek to burn away every invading enemy with that fire!
Leaning slightly forward, the friction between their compressed fields produced dense, crackling flashes like lightning. After a brief pause, he slammed down violently. The biological fields of both sides shattered abruptly, and his colossal frame seemed to instantly engulf Chen Chuan's figure ahead.
White flames drifted upward from Chen Chuan's body. Watching those six arms descend upon him in unison, he did not dodge or retreat. Instead, he drew one hand back to his side, and highly condensed fire of spirituality manifested above his palm. The light pulsed incessantly, illuminating his entire body in pure white and turning this corner of the hall blindingly bright.
A savage grin had begun to spread across Tamur's face, but the moment he saw that sphere of light and sensed the power contained within, his expression changed drastically. Heeding his instincts, he immediately abandoned his plan to attack. All six arms snapped back to shield the front of his body, and the crimson light flowing over him surged forward to converge.
Chen Chuan stepped forward. As his center of gravity pressed ahead, the hand bearing the spiritual light naturally swung with the momentum. He kicked off his rear foot and hurled it violently forward!
That highly concentrated mass of energy crossed the short distance in an instant and crashed into Tamur with a thunderous roar. In that split second, the violent clash of both sides' fires of spirituality shook the sandstone bluff like an earthquake.
After mastering one of the forms of the Grand Radiant Light Forms, Chen Chuan's mental strength had grown considerably, and the power of his condensed fire of spirituality had increased alongside it.
In this environment—cramped for a battle between martial artists—he had unleashed this most destructive method of attack right off the bat without hesitation.
A martial artist's stamina was precious. They typically preferred to probe and trade blows gradually before delivering a decisive strike. Unless they had a clear tactical purpose—such as blocking or probing—they rarely resorted to an attack with such high consumption.
Yet not only did Chen Chuan have ways to replenish himself, but this mission was also backed by the state, which covered the resources expended for this operation. Having located his target, he could fight with complete abandon.
On Tamur's end, his six arms pressed tightly against the incoming sphere of spiritual light. Every muscle in his body strained taut, and the dancing crimson flames across his frame surged forward without pause in an attempt to suppress it.
Yet his entire body was uncontrollably pushed backward at extreme speed. Feeling his center of gravity slipping away and a weightless drift overcoming his body, he knew he could not let this continue.
Amidst the violent tremors racking his frame, he was forced to shove forward with all his might. However, this sudden exertion broke the precarious balance he had struggled to maintain. With a deafening detonation, a colossal flash of light flared across the sand-swept night sky, visible over the entirety of Shahran.
Where Chen Chuan stood, more than half of the original hall had vanished. Before him lay a vast expanse of open ground carved out by the blast; the structures that had once stood there were gone. Outside the gaping breach, the murky night sky stretched behind them. A moment later, amidst whistling howls, the displaced air rushed violently back in.
He looked toward the figure ahead that was barely managing to remain upright. The spiritual radiance on Tamur was virtually extinguished, leaving only a few wisps fluttering about his shoulders. The garments on his lower body were torn to shreds, three of his sprouted arms had been snapped off, and his flesh was gouged and pitted with rolled-back lacerations everywhere. A large portion of the wounds could be seen clinging to and suffering erosion from platinum-colored fire of spirituality.
Tamur panted in heavy gasps. He had never imagined the power of that fire of spirituality would be so terrifying; even with all his might, he had been unable to withstand it.
It seemed Great Shun was truly playing for keeps this time, which was why the martial artist they sent was so formidable.
Yet so what?
He rose to his feet once more. Flesh squirmed at the stumps of his severed limbs, but the erosion from the fire of spirituality hindered the growth of mutated tissue, preventing the damaged flesh from mending.
Even so, he straightened his back and glared fixedly at Chen Chuan. His vital essence was unleashed outward with reckless abandon, and his frame began expanding once again. This was a transformation of the Visage of the Aberrant that he had not yet mastered—one that could easily claim his life or cause him to lose control—yet he seemed not to care in the slightest.
Chen Chuan stepped forward, kicking off his rear foot. The air that had just converged back was forced aside once more. Lunging forward at extreme speed, he arrived before Tamur and swung a kick upward.
Even severely wounded, Tamur's reflexes were not slow, and his body reacted a fraction of a second ahead. However, what little remained of his fire of spirituality after the earlier clash was completely unable to withstand the radiance and power carried by this strike.
With a resounding thud, the kick struck squarely against his forehead. A surge of jin drove into his skull, and he lost consciousness in an instant. His massive frame flew backward through the air, shrinking before he landed, reverting to his former size and appearance before crashing heavily to the ground dozens of meters away.
Chen Chuan did not step forward to kill him. His superiors had instructed him beforehand to avoid killing the opposing martial artist if possible, as doing so could easily spark international disputes and put the Great Shun government at a diplomatic disadvantage.
Moreover, on a personal level, killing this man would make future approvals for overseas travel exceedingly difficult, giving other nations grounds to outright reject his entry applications.
He turned and walked over to one side, casting his gaze toward a specific spot. The pulverized sand and stone parted slowly, and a jade fragment floated out from within, drifting gently until it hovered before him.
It was clearly a broken piece of jade. On the surface, it appeared no different from ordinary jade, yet he could feel that it was exceptionally hard and exceedingly heavy. Upon coming into contact with his biological field, however, it became weightless, as if devoid of all mass.
Across its smooth, fractured surface, fine talismanic characters were visible—likely the imperial prayer to heaven inscribed during that era. He slipped the piece into a pre-prepared seal pouch, put it into his pocket, and strode away. A moment later, thunderous sonic booms echoed in the far distance.
Roughly ten minutes after his departure, a slender, tall figure stepped out and came to a halt before Tamur.
The fallen man grinned and said, "I knew you would return. Come, kill me, brother. Use my death to replenish your strength. Use it to defeat the enemy, and trade it for the rebirth of the Biesa Khanate."
The figure replied, "Is it worth it?"
Tamur gave no answer, merely muttering in a hollow, unfocused murmur: "Great Molitian, boundless fire, boundless light, boundless power, manifest all boundless dharmas, deliver from all calamity..."
"Visage taint, is it..." A trace of pity surfaced in the tall figure's eyes.
When a martial artist cultivating the Visage of the Aberrant failed to anchor their sense of self, they would be overtaken and tainted by the visage they visualized, which would in turn warp their character and thoughts. Tamur had clearly been influenced too deeply. The tall figure felt a pang of sympathy, yet he would not stay his hand because of it; on the contrary, such power was precisely what he needed.
He raised a hand, blue-violet spiritual radiance shimmering from his palm. Just at that moment, he suddenly stepped back as a streak of light grazed his brow and shot into the dark night.
He glanced back. Chen Chuan stood quietly by the breach, looking as though he had never left at all.
Chapter 831