Han Long staggered back, his breathing ragged. His arms burned with pain, his body bruised and battered from the relentless assault of Uncle Wood's merciless techniques.
The dungeon had become a battlefield of chaos—wooden beams, roots, and shattered debris littered the floor, the air thick with dust and Qi residue.
Yet despite all this, Uncle Wood stood firm, his presence as unshakable as a mountain. He had taken barely any damage, while Han was reaching his limit.
Han gritted his teeth. If this fight dragged on any longer, his body would give out before his spirit did.
And another attack came.
Uncle Wood thrust a hand forward, and a massive wooden beam erupted from the ground, roaring toward Han like a battering ram.
Han raised his sword, ready to deflect—but he knew it was futile.
He was outmatched. He needed something more.
Something primal.
The moment the wooden beam was about to crash into him—
Something awoke deep within Han's Core.
A roar—not from his throat, but from his very soul. A surge of untamed, ferocious power erupted from within, overwhelming his senses like a wildfire.
His Qi flared violently, but it was different.
It was no longer just a refined aura—it was a Qi manifestation.
The wooden beam rushed toward him, but instead of dodging—
Han's Qi manifested into the form of a massive, spectral wolf, its translucent fangs gleaming like polished steel, its eyes burning with a deep, emerald glow. This was no ordinary beast—it was born for destruction, its very essence designed to shred and devour wood with merciless efficiency.
Whenever it lunged, its spectral fangs sank into the wooden beams, chewing and tearing through them like brittle twigs. With each attack, the creature's claws tore into the wood, shredding it apart as if it were nothing but paper, sending splinters flying in every direction.
Han unlocked the Feral Beast Technique! It was wild, unrestrained and primal, the very essence of destruction.
Yin Shuang gasped.
"What… what kind of technique is that?!"
Uncle Wood's eyes narrowed slightly, recognizing the shift in power.
But before he could react—
Han charged.
Now, every wooden assault that Uncle Wood hurled at him was shredded apart instantly—torn, crushed, and devoured by the relentless fury of Han's newfound power.
A massive root as thick as a man's torso lunged at him, twisting like a serpent ready to ensnare its prey.
The Timberfang Wolf manifestation lunged, its spectral fangs clamping down with a sickening crunch, severing the root in a single bite. The remains fell lifelessly to the ground, gnawed and useless.
A colossal wooden beam—thick as a temple pillar—descended from above, threatening to crush Han where he stood.
BOOM!
The Qi-beast snarled and leapt, its claws slicing through the beam mid-air, reducing it to a rain of splinters before it could even reach him.
A final desperate wall of bark and vines erupted between them, a last-ditch effort by Uncle Wood to slow his advance.
The beast's claws ripped through the barricade like a rabid predator, shredding vines, splintering bark, and reducing it all to nothing more than mulch beneath Han's feet.
Yin Shuang could only watch in awe, her breath caught in her throat.
"This… this is no ordinary Qi technique. It's… wild. Untamed. A force of pure destruction."
Before this battle, Uncle Wood had controlled the battlefield with absolute dominance. But now?
It was Han Long's turn to gain the upper hand.
Each time Han attacked, his Qi-beast tore through the obstacles, its fangs and claws rending everything in its path.
Uncle Wood's once unbreakable battlefield was now being torn apart.
But this power came at a cost.
Han could feel his Qi draining rapidly.
His cultivation level was not yet strong enough to sustain such a high-level manifestation technique for long. His vision blurred slightly, his limbs growing heavier with each movement.
"I need to finish this now!"
His eyes flickered toward the wooden beams still scattered across the battlefield.
That's when an idea struck him.
Han suddenly stopped attacking and did something unexpected—
Instead of cutting down the next incoming wooden beam, he redirected his Qi, grabbing it mid-air and twisting his body.
Han gritted his teeth as the massive wooden beam hurtled toward him, a force of nature meant to crush him into the dungeon floor.
Instead of dodging, he planted his feet firmly, twisting his body at the last moment. His Qi surged, raw power rippling through his muscles as he caught the beam's momentum and let it carry him into a spinning arc.
The air howled around him, dust and debris spiraling from the sheer force.
With a roar, he hurled it back!
The colossal beam tore through the air like a battering ram, flipping end over end as it hurtled straight toward its master.
Uncle Wood's eyes narrowed—a flicker of recognition, the first trace of shock he had shown in this battle.
And then, impact!
The wooden projectile slammed into the walls of his own creation, triggering a chain reaction as beams, roots, and shattered debris came cascading down upon him. The very battlefield he had shaped was now collapsing upon him.
Yin Shuang gasped, eyes wide as the dust settled.
"No way… he turned Uncle Wood's own attack against him!"
The force of his counterattack sent the beam flying, smashing into another set of wooden pillars, causing a chain reaction of collapsing debris.
Uncle Wood's eyes widened slightly—the first sign of surprise he had shown in the entire fight.
For all his control over wood, he hadn't expected his own battlefield to be used against him.
By the time he tried to counter—it was too late.
CRASH!
A massive wooden structure collapsed on top of him, beams and roots intertwining, burying Uncle Wood beneath his own technique.
For the first time since the fight began—the dungeon fell silent.
Han stood still, panting, watching for any signs of movement.
Nothing.
Uncle Wood lay unconscious beneath the wreckage.
Han stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he approached Uncle Wood's body.
His heart was still racing, his blood still burning from the intoxication of battle.
His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword.
One final strike, that would be the end of it.
He raised his palm—