Chapter Nineteen: Victory — Solar Projectile — Crisis

Since his body had grown stronger, the ability to retaliate with even greater force, regardless of injury, became more powerful and enduring. The last punch he landed on the sinister man had been a sudden burst at triple strength, which caused massive muscle strains. When battling the Arrowwing Serpent, he exploded with five times his usual strength, crippling his right hand entirely. Now, when he unleashed power at one, two, or three times his normal strength, it merely increased the body's burden—a strain he could fully withstand. Only after reaching four times his strength did his muscles and bones begin to emit faint cries of protest. If he maintained quadruple combat power, his body wouldn't last long, but he felt confident that dealing with his opponent wouldn't be an issue.

His aura surged throughout his body, most evident on the combat power tester belonging to Macasha: Qi's original strength of sixty-eight began to climb—seventy, eighty, ninety, pausing at one hundred and thirty-six before rising again, then stopping at two hundred and four. Under Macasha's terrified gaze, it continued to ascend, finally halting at two hundred and seventy-two.

"This is impossible! In the universe, there are races with transformation abilities that boost combat power, but those who can double their strength are renowned warrior peoples. Those who can quadruple it are rare across the cosmos. Could the machine be broken? Two hundred seventy-two—his combat power is higher than mine!" Macasha muttered and shook his head.

"So, according to you, that device on your left eye can gauge a person's strength—and even quantify it? Fascinating. My combat power is two hundred seventy-two now? It started at sixty-eight, when I possessed nearly seven thousand pounds of force. It seems your tester measures only physical attributes. It suits your world, but it's rather pointless for me," Qi spoke as though the machine already belonged to him.

"Hmph, even if the machine isn't broken, your transformation won't last long. Soon, you'll be at my mercy. Once I inform Lord Frieza of this planet's location, he'll send troops to wipe out humanity—should fetch a decent price," Macasha sneered, envisioning a beautiful future.

Qi wasted no more words and struck again. Their combat power was close; Qi had a slight edge in strength, while his opponent's advantage lay in his rich experience fighting experts—unlike Qi, who had bullied ordinary people on the battlefield. The match was evenly poised.

Not far away, Gao Jizhai couldn't even see their figures, only hear the constant thuds. His smile was uglier than a cry. "How am I supposed to pick up girls under the noses of two bosses? Killing that freak is impossible! Am I here just to explain the situation?" he muttered, slowly distancing himself from the fight.

As time passed, Qi gradually gained the upper hand—not just because he adapted to his opponent's strength and attacks, but because he had mastered martial arts techniques he'd seen online, specifically from China.

With absolute control, Qi only needed to see and understand a technique's philosophy and effects to command his body and execute it perfectly. So, the moves and principles he encountered online were firmly etched in his mind. Now, fighting for his life against an equal, he deployed them, constantly switching styles, and his combat power subtly increased.

Previously, he relied on physical advantages and basic calculations in combat. He had acquired a few martial arts manuals, but they hadn't proved very useful—perhaps their level was low, or for other reasons. Now, the techniques and philosophies he studied online were slowly becoming second nature. Each move was stronger than before, and Macasha was nearly unable to keep up. After exchanging a brutal punch, Macasha staggered back.

"Ha! Not bad. You can keep improving your combat power even in battle. Your last move had at least two hundred eighty-five. But as a veteran, how could I not have a trump card? Ah..." As he spoke, his body swelled, muscles grew denser, veins bulged, and his aura surged dramatically.

"Hahaha! Thanks to guidance from a grown-up, I can temporarily unleash explosive power. My combat strength now exceeds three hundred—almost mid-level among the lowest-ranked soldiers. Prepare to die at the hands of Macasha, the great!" With his speed and strength boosted, Macasha dominated the fight.

After dozens of exchanges, Macasha delivered a final kick, sending Qi flying. Several ribs cracked as Qi crashed into a mountain wall. Macasha's assault didn't relent; both hands glowed with purple-black light, hurling waves of energy at Qi, who was embedded in the mountainside. Dust billowed as Macasha bombarded him for over a minute before stopping.

Amid crazed laughter, Macasha watched the dust clear. Apart from the shattered mountain, there was nothing left. "Could he have been reduced to ashes? But with his previous strength, he shouldn't have died so easily," Macasha mused, immediately becoming alert.

He waited, but nothing happened. The combat power tester showed no trace of the enemy. Had he really died? Just as Macasha relaxed, a hand burst from underground, gripping his ankle. A figure leapt from the earth—Qi, who had hidden below, sealing all pores and aura.

In Macasha's moment of shock, Qi's right hand unleashed an unprecedented attack. The combat power tester displayed a punch at four hundred and eight—a sixfold explosion of Qi's strength.

Macasha roared, raising both arms to block, sacrificing them to avoid having his head crushed. He was blasted dozens of meters away, but stopped instantly, hovering in midair—flying without external aid.

Qi was astonished, but Macasha, thinking Qi couldn't fly, stayed suspended and began spitting energy balls at him. Qi's sixfold burst had injured muscles and bones, weakening his right hand and increasing his body's cries. If he didn't finish this quickly, he might fall here.

"Hahaha! So you really can't fly? You don't even know the basics of manipulating energy. This is fundamental mastery. That's why inferior races lack depth—I can remain undefeated like this." Macasha's cautious nature should have prompted him to flee after his arms were broken, but recalling that Qi had arrived using flesh wings—not very fast or agile—he decided on an aerial battle.

Qi dodged the energy balls and launched himself from the ground like a cannonball toward Macasha, who retreated to maintain distance. Suddenly, Qi spread three pairs of wings, accelerating far faster than on land, appearing before Macasha and unleashing another sixfold explosion—a powerful kick to Macasha's broken arm. With little resistance, Macasha became a meteor crashing into the mountainside, raising clouds of dust.

Qi hovered outside the dust, gently fanning his wings to disperse it. Inside, Macasha had reverted to his original form, blood pouring from his mouth, barely alive. Yet a sinister smile curved his lips.

Qi frowned, raising his newly healed right hand to finish him off and prevent further trouble. "Heh, brat, you think you've won? I have one last trump card." With that, he twisted around, biting open his combat suit at the waist, and flung a capsule-like object away. It exploded in midair, and Qi quickly retreated defensively. From the white mist, a metallic device shot toward the city below.

"That's a solar bomb I acquired through special channels on a technologically advanced world. When it detonates, it's like the sun appearing instantly—this planet will have a huge hole. Judging by its size, it could vaporize a hundredth of the planet at most," Macasha said with a twisted smile. He lied—the missile could destroy a city at best, and unless it scored a direct hit, it might not even kill his opponent. So he aimed it toward the city below.

Qi's expression changed dramatically as he turned to intercept it, but paused, a cold smile on his lips. He grabbed Macasha by the neck and carried him after the missile.

Macasha's face now paled. If he was caught in the blast, his current state wouldn't survive—if he did, his life would still be in Qi's hands. Gravely wounded, he had no strength to resist.

Qi calculated the missile's speed, gritted his teeth, and roared, unleashing five times his combat power. His wings beat harder, accelerating further. Feeling Qi's speed increase again, Macasha realized his mistake—he'd focused on Qi's sluggish flesh wings, forgetting that a multiplied combat power also meant multiplied speed.

"You can't stop it. Even a slight jolt will trigger an explosion. I lied—the solar bomb can only affect a city. If you escape now, you can avoid the blast," Macasha pleaded desperately.

"Silence!" Qi's whole body glowed crimson, his left eye wreathed in silver-white, his right as black as ink. The missile was now ahead. Macasha struggled violently, kicking at Qi, but Qi—now at fivefold combat power—chopped the back of Macasha's head, knocking him out.

Distracted, Qi's speed dropped slightly, invalidating his previous calculations. But with Macasha unconscious, Qi changed his body shape, minimizing wind resistance into a perfect streamlined form. His speed increased greatly—he'd come a long way since the flood of information.

The missile was just ahead. Qi summoned the Qidian; his only hope was to use the Qidian's energy conversion to devour the missile. He wasn't sure it would work, but since the missile had no will, he judged the chances high—and he had no other options.

Now less than a hundred meters from the ground, Qidian appeared in front of the missile at Qi's command, drawing closer. Time seemed to slow as the missile and Qidian met.

Under Qi's tense gaze, they touched. In that instant, the Qidian emitted a "bang." Qi's pupils contracted to pinpoints, his left eye shining silver-white, his right as black as a black hole, capable of devouring even sight and soul.