The Corruption Dragon God: Lust System Chapter 848 - Why would a dragon care about the cries of a maggot?

When Zihao fixed his eyes—brimming with murderous intent—on Qingyi, he expected to see at least a slight flinch.

After all, the difference in cultivation between the two was huge.

To his surprise, Qingyi didn't even blink.

A gentle smile blossomed on the young dragon's lips as he met Zihao's glare.

"Do you want something from me, Young Master Zihao? I understand that you're admiring my beauty, but I'm not interested in that sort of thing. What I have between my legs is reserved only for my wives."

The words had barely left Qingyi's mouth when the chubby man beside him burst into laughter. Hundreds of others followed, the sound rolling through the arena in waves.

"Y-you…" Zihao's pale face flushed crimson in an instant, his eyes flashing with pure fury.

He forced his heart to calm down, then roared in a voice like thunder.

"You uncouth pig… get up into the arena, come on! Show me that you're more than just some country bumpkin! Your name is already filthy enough for being linked to the Dragon God of Corruption—don't sully it even further with that disgusting tongue of yours!"

Qingyi let out a low chuckle. "All right…"

With a slight leap, he bounded into the arena, landing soundlessly on the polished white stone.

"Should I limit my cultivation to the first stage of my realm? I don't want to kill you by accident," he joked, his hand resting naturally on the hilt of the Heaven-Defying Thunder Sword.

"No…" Zihao's reply came out curt and sharp.

The urge to scream about exactly who he was burned in his throat. But competing with Qingyi over status was, in itself, sheer folly.

He restrained himself with every ounce of strength he possessed.

He remembered his master's words all too well.

Humiliate Qingyi. Destroy his reputation in front of everyone. Take advantage of his current weakness and crush him like a cockroach, until he understood his true place.

As long as he held the cultivation advantage—especially while at the peak of the Stellar Sovereign Realm—Zihao knew, or at least believed, that he had complete freedom to do whatever he pleased with Qingyi.

"Don't worry," Zihao growled through clenched teeth, "it's just a friendly sparring session. I won't hurt you too badly, nor will I use the power of my star."

"I'm glad Young Master Zihao is so considerate…"

The reply sounded polite, but Zihao found no satisfaction in it.

Qingyi was mocking him.

His face grew even colder. His grip tightened on the hilt of his greatsword, knuckles turning white under the pressure.

It was the first time they had met, but Zihao already despised Qingyi far beyond what his master's instructions dictated.

Eyes blazing with bloodlust, he took a step forward.

He would carry out his master's orders, both out of loyalty and for sheer personal pleasure.

Fine cracks spiderwebbed out from beneath his right foot, small fragments of stone spraying into the air in a gray cloud.

In the next instant, he vanished.

Qingyi reacted at once. The Heaven-Defying Thunder Sword left its sheath in a single fluid motion, parrying the greatsword tearing through the air toward his body at dozens of times the speed of sound.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by a deafening explosion that shook the entire arena.

The two blades collided. Metallic sparks flew in all directions like tiny shooting stars as the power of the strike rippled outward in an overwhelming, oppressive shockwave. Dust leapt from the arena floor, and spectators in the front rows raised their arms against the sudden gale, robes and hair whipping wildly.

Zihao was, at that moment, one of the sect's strongest Star Sovereigns. Not in Qi, nor in techniques, but in pure brute force.

He possessed the Physique of the Invincible Battle God, one of the most powerful experts in the history of the Celestial Heaven. With a body like that, he could crush even dragons with his bare hands.

Many claimed that, if he were ever to reach full maturity, he would be capable of rivaling even Long Tianjin—the Alliance's leader himself—in physical strength.

No one there expected Qingyi to be able to hold Zihao back. Not when he stood an entire greater realm below, with such a massive power gap between them.

Zihao, of course, was no exception.

He struck at Qingyi's sword, expecting to inflict devastating damage, to flatten him against the ground like an insignificant insect.

At that very moment, however, a distant memory surfaced in his mind.

When he was a child, still without any cultivation, he had once struck a massive steel pillar with a training sword.

That was exactly what he felt.

The bones in his right arm shattered under the colossal pressure with a wet, nauseating crack. His muscles shredded into frayed fibers, and his skin split open in a red explosion of blood and torn tendons. White-hot agony lanced from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder.

It was as if the full power of his attack had violently rebounded into his own arm, compounded by Qingyi's overwhelming force.

Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have been a problem at all. He wouldn't have been injured so easily.

Unfortunately, he had been so focused, so confident in his own strike, that he hadn't even bothered to protect his arm with Qi.

A heart-wrenching scream echoed through the arena. Zihao collapsed onto his butt, clutching his bloodied, shattered arm, his eyes already welling with thick tears.

For a long moment, no one said a single word. Only Zihao's ragged sobs broke the silence.

Even the chubby man still had a hand pressed over his head, eyes squeezed shut, convinced that Qingyi was about to be crushed. When he finally dared to peek, his jaw went slack.

Even as Long Wujin's heir, leaping across an entire greater cultivation realm to defeat Zihao simply shouldn't have been possible.

Qingyi paid no attention to the screams and curses spilling from Zihao's lips as the man writhed in agony on the ground. He simply slid the Heaven-Defying Thunder Sword back into its sheath with a soft, metallic click.

All of this was, honestly, far beneath him. He didn't feel even a twinge of pleasure in crushing Zihao like that.

Why would a dragon care about the cries of a maggot?