Soul Enslavement

How formidable was Yang Zheng's vitality?

Yet, this once indomitable force had now been entirely reduced to a grotesque mass of flesh by Chen Feng, stripped of any lingering trace of Yang Zheng's will. All that remained of the man was a churning, pulsating pool of blood and muscle, a grim testament to his former power.

But above that writhing mass, a monstrous phantom lingered.

It was a hideous amalgamation of beasts, nightmarishly fused together: the towering trunk of an elephant, the muscular body of a lion, the slashing tail of a leopard, the cold eyes of a crocodile, and the forked tongue of a lizard.

Thirteen beasts layered into one, their combined roars resonating in a cacophony of terror. The very air quaked under their calls, enough to drive even the most mindless zombies to falter. The oppressive weight of their presence bore down on the world, instilling a primordial fear in any who dared approach.

Yang Zheng's power had always been something beyond comprehension.

And now, even in death, it lingered—his essence unyielding, refusing to vanish. The monstrous form above the blood churned with a disturbing vitality, as though on the verge of transforming into something far worse.

An unsettling sensation rippled through Chen Feng's mind. If this thing was left unchecked, it could evolve into a new kind of horror, a lifeform born from blood and rage. In this twisted world, where the boundaries of the possible had long since shattered, nothing seemed out of reach.

The atmosphere itself had become an engine of mutation, altering everything in its path. Soon, even the plants would follow suit.

The soft grass of the past would grow into blades sharper than steel, slicing through flesh and bone alike, leaving anything that dared tread upon it as nourishment for the soil. Trees, too, had begun to awaken, their limbs twisted with murderous intent. No longer content with bearing fruit, they now adorned their branches with the corpses of the damned, hanging like trophies, swaying in the wind.

In this new era, the trees bore fruit of a far darker sort—bloated, rotting bodies turning crimson as they decayed, spreading the foul stench of death through the air.

The sight before Chen Feng felt like the culmination of that nightmare. The monstrous phantom of Yang Zheng's lingering power hovered, an abomination surrounded by spectral beasts. The tigers, lions, leopards, and elephants writhed in silent agony, their forms twisted and broken, their howls of torment almost audible in the stillness.

"Tigers, lions, leopards, elephants… and is that a giant gorilla? I see it now… Yang Zheng didn't just embody these beasts. He trapped their souls!"

Chen Feng's eyes narrowed as realization dawned.

So this was how Yang Zheng had forged his Hundred Beasts Body—by collecting and enslaving the souls of the creatures he had conquered, binding them to his flesh in a grotesque ritual of power.

Yang Zheng possessed the uncanny ability to capture the very souls of beasts. Once he slew a creature, its soul would become his, bound and absorbed into his body, an eternal prisoner of his will. What was truly horrifying was that these weren't ordinary beasts—each one surpassed the Bronze Realm, and among them, three bore the distinct aura of Silver Realm strength.

The Giant Gorilla.

The Flame Tiger.

The Rock Lizard.

These three Silver Realm beasts, once proud rulers of their domains, now roared in defiance, their spectral forms trembling as if on the verge of resurrection, unleashed from the shackles of Yang Zheng's enslavement.

The Giant Gorilla's roar shattered the silence, its ghostly fists pounding its chest with an earth-shaking force. Though reduced to a mere phantom, its presence was overwhelming, each spectral hair on its body gleaming like steel needles, radiating a menace that could pierce the soul.

It was terrifying.

"This Gorilla's strength… it's almost on par with the Harbinger!" Chen Feng thought, his eyes narrowing. "Such a fearsome creature, and Yang Zheng brought it down? As much as I've carved my own path through the bodies of beasts and men alike, cutting down anything that dared stand in my way, I can see now that others, like Yang Zheng, have seized just as many opportunities."

Chen Feng's mind buzzed with the weight of this revelation. The world they now inhabited was brimming with untapped power, with perils and possibilities lurking around every corner. If Yang Zheng—a force unto himself—had such monstrous potential, what kind of terror lay in wait among the true elites, the ones ranked among the top ten strongest in the land?

The thought clawed at Chen Feng's subconscious, a chilling realization of the sheer power that loomed in the distance.

But…

Fear was a luxury Chen Feng had long discarded. He had survived by stealing the opportunities of others, claiming their strength as his own: the Cerberus, the Giant Corpse Beetles, Wang Yong, and now Yang Zheng. Each of these beings, in their own right, had been destined to rise and dominate the apocalyptic landscape. Yet, their paths had been cut short, their power siphoned to fuel the ambitions of those more ruthless.

The souls of the beasts, newly freed from Yang Zheng's grasp, swirled in the air like a violent storm, their individual essences weak—so weak, in fact, that a single gust could scatter them to the wind. But their intent was clear. They sought to unite, to pool their strength, and forge a new existence from the remnants of Yang Zheng's flesh.

They yearned to rise again.

The spectral forms of the beasts began to coalesce, their once-shattered souls weaving together into a terrifying new entity. Their collective strength started to manifest into a grotesque body, taking the best attributes from each: the cunning of the wolf, the raw power of the elephant, the swift agility of the leopard, the unyielding dominance of the lion, and the grim intelligence of the gorilla.

Thirteen beasts. Thirteen wills.

Merged into one monstrous abomination, born from death, now clawing its way back into life.

Once reborn, this monstrous entity would have become the King of Beasts, a creature that could rival even the future Zerg King!

"Impossible!" Chen Feng sneered, his voice cold and cutting like a blade. "No matter what you've schemed, no matter how close you come, in front of me, you're nothing but insects. Resurrection? In your dreams!"

The vortex before him swirled with greater intensity, like a cauldron of boiling oil, bubbling violently. With a wave of Chen Feng's hand, the newly formed flesh of the beast was shredded once again, torn apart mercilessly!

Groooaar!…

Awoooo!…

Hhssss!…

The anguished cries of the thirteen beasts erupted in unison, their fury and hatred palpable. They had been mere moments from resurrection, their monstrous souls ready to re-enter the world of the living. But now, all their effort had been undone, their chance for rebirth snatched away by Chen Feng's ruthless hand. Their consciousnesses were once more crushed into submission, the faint hope of revival through Yang Zheng's flesh forever extinguished.

"Fuse! Fuse with Wei Xun's arm! Let me witness the power of an arm infused with the essence of thirteen ferocious beasts!" Chen Feng's eyes glinted with an icy arrogance as he pressed the writhing mass of flesh against Wei Xun's severed arm. Instantly, the twisted flesh began to merge with the ruined stump, intertwining with bone, muscle, and sinew, binding itself into his body.

Minutes passed.

Wei Xun's right arm swelled grotesquely, doubling in size compared to his left. The skin darkened to an inky black, covered in ancient, otherworldly markings that seemed to pulse with an eerie life of their own. The markings formed into the shapes of the very beasts whose souls were now trapped within him—feral, writhing, forever imprisoned beneath the surface of his skin.

A sudden, terrifying glint flickered in Wei Xun's eyes. He could feel it—the immense, savage killing intent of the beasts that now surged through him. It was uncontrollable, a raw force that roared to be unleashed.

The power was overwhelming.

Unable to bear it any longer, Wei Xun rose abruptly, his arm trembling with untamed fury. He slammed his fist into the ground with all his might, desperate to release the force that threatened to tear him apart from the inside.

With that one punch...

A cacophony of beastly roars erupted, louder and more agonized than ever before, filled with pure malice. It was the sound of thirteen beasts, their path to survival shattered, their hatred reaching a fevered, desperate pitch.

"Boom!"

Wei Xun's fist collided with the earth, and the solid concrete floor beneath him shattered instantly, cracking open like fragile glass. A three-meter-long fissure spread out, wide and jagged, as if the very ground had been split by the fury of the beasts now bound within him.

The transformation was complete.

Wei Xun stood, breathing heavily, his strength having surged to unimaginable levels. His right arm, now a monstrous weapon of destruction, throbbed with power.

Silver.

The fusion of flesh and soul was complete. Wei Xun's strength skyrocketed, pushing him directly into the Silver Realm!