pjbooks Chapter 62 Pure Crushing
Chapter 62 Pure Crushing
"Zhou Tianze's eyes are healed?!"
"Luo Qinghe's hand is healed too!!"
"Their injuries healed instantly?"
"Didn't I hear that even Su Qin couldn't cure their condition?"
Su Qin is the most outstanding healer in the Dragon Kingdom and the strongest doctor in the Dragon Kingdom. However, she was helpless in the face of Zhou Tianze and Luo Qinghe's condition. But Jiang Chen cured them in just a few seconds.
However... that's not all.
In the blink of an eye, Jiang Chen had arrived in front of the thirteenth apostle. At that moment, time seemed to stand still, and everyone couldn't help but hold their breath.
Think about what Jiang Chen would do?
This sentence popped into the minds of countless people.
What will he do?
The answer will be revealed soon!
The speed that burst forth in that instant surprised even the Thirteenth Apostle, who failed to react at first.
In the void, Jiang Chen's fist had already slammed down.
There was no charging up, no special moves, no bursts of spiritual energy, and no fancy pre-animation. It was just a simple punch, like hitting a punching bag in your own yard, or casually swatting a mosquito on the street.
But the speed of that punch was so fast that even the thirteenth apostle's golden pupils couldn't catch it.
The fist slammed into the Thirteenth Apostle's crossed arms, producing a deep, resonant sound like an ancient bell being struck. The sound didn't come from the air, but from space itself; the entire void trembled violently under the blow, as if something had shattered at its core.
The thirteenth apostle was sent flying backwards.
His arms remained crossed in a blocking stance, but fine cracks appeared on his forearms, where the dark golden aura that had never been penetrated by any attack. The cracks spread outwards from the point where he was struck, covering his entire forearm like a spider web, or like cracks on a dried-up riverbed, with each crack oozing a dark golden, blood-like light.
He tumbled countless times in the void, his long, silvery-white hair flying wildly behind him, his black robes fluttering in the wind. His fingers flailing wildly in the void, trying to find anything to hold onto, but there was nothing there. He could only keep flying, keep flying, until he had flown hundreds of meters before he could barely steady himself.
When he stopped, his arms hung at his sides, trembling slightly.
For the first time, cracks appeared in those golden pupils.
On the surface of his pupil, the ever-changing gold layer, a thin, dark red crack appeared. The crack extended outward from the center of his pupil, like a lightning bolt, splitting open that perfect eye.
He looked down at his arms. The dark golden aura on his forearms was slowly repairing them, the cracks closing little by little, but at an alarmingly slow pace. At this rate, it would take at least thirty seconds to fully recover.
He raised his head and looked at Jiang Chen.
The boy remained standing, in the same stance after throwing a punch—right fist extended forward, left leg slightly bent, weight on his back foot. His school uniform fluttered gently in the air, the dark blue fabric spotless.
His expression remained unchanged, as calm as if that punch was just a warm-up.
A person without abilities?
What just erupted was definitely not some kind of power... So... what was it?
The thirteenth apostle's lips moved, as if he wanted to say something. But before he could speak, Jiang Chen reappeared in front of him.
This time, it wasn't just one punch.
It's a rainstorm.
Jiang Chen's fists rained down on the Thirteenth Apostle like a storm, each punch landing precisely on the spot where the apostle was blocking, each punch heavier than the last. His speed was unbelievable, so fast that there wasn't even time for afterimages to form, so fast that the Thirteenth Apostle's arms didn't even have time to recover from the shock of the previous punch before the next one arrived.
Every punch landed on the same spot.
The dark golden aura that was slowly repairing on the thirteenth apostle's forearm shattered completely under this series of attacks. The aura turned into countless tiny specks of light, drifting away in the void.
His arms were exposed to the attack for the first time.
Jiang Chen's fist slammed into his bare forearm, making a sound like bones cracking.
The sound was crisp, piercing, and teeth-grinding. It was the sound of bones breaking, a sound that had never been heard from the thirteenth apostle in three hundred years.
The thirteenth apostle's pupils contracted sharply. The dark red crack widened further within his golden pupils.
His body flew backward again.
This time it flew farther, faster, and more out of control.
He tumbled through the void, his long, silvery-white hair wrapped around his neck, and his black robe was torn in several places by the air currents, revealing pale, almost transparent skin beneath. His arms were bent at an abnormal angle, and the bones in his forearms were broken in multiple places from the elbows to the wrists. The broken bone fragments pierced the skin, revealing the white, dark gold-patterned broken bones.
There was no blood.
There was no blood in the apostle's body. What seeped from the broken bones was a dark golden liquid, like lava, which dripped into the void and dissipated as dark golden specks of light.
It took him three times longer than before to regain his balance.
When he stopped, his arms hung limply at his sides, completely unable to block. He lowered his head, his long, silvery-white hair obscuring most of his face, making his expression unreadable. But his body was trembling slightly.
He actually felt pain?
The moment this idea came to mind, even the thirteenth apostle couldn't help but chuckle.
His forearm bones were shattered into more than a dozen pieces, each broken bone rubbing against the surrounding muscles and nerves, and every tiny movement would trigger a new wave of excruciating pain.
He slowly raised his head.
Within his golden pupil, the dark red crack had expanded to cover the entire eyeball. The crack radiated outwards from the center of the pupil, like a spiderweb covering his entire eyeball, tearing his once flawless golden eye into a shattered mirror.
He opened his mouth.
"you--"
Before he could finish speaking, Jiang Chen's fist was already in front of him.
The punch landed on his face.
The thirteenth apostle's head snapped back, and his entire body tumbled backward. His body spun in the air like a struck bird, his limbs flailing limply, his long, silvery hair leaving a long trail behind him.
On his face, where the fist had struck, his cheekbone was shattered. His handsome, almost unreal face had a sunken patch on his left cheekbone, with the surrounding skin showing dark red bruising.
He flew farther than the previous two times, so far that he almost disappeared into the end of the void. His body spun continuously during the flight, losing all control, like a kicked pebble, helplessly tumbling in infinite space.
When he finally stopped, his face was completely changed. His left cheekbone was sunken, and the bone in his left eye socket was cracked, causing the pupil of his left eye to be slightly crooked. The lines of his two eyes were no longer parallel, making him look like a crumpled painting.
He hovered in mid-air, arms hanging limply, head bowed, long, silvery-white hair disheveled and draped over his shoulders. His black robe was torn in several places, revealing pale skin and several sunken bones beneath. His breathing—if he needed to breathe at all—became rapid and erratic, his chest heaving violently, each rise and fall aggravating his broken ribs and triggering new pain.
He slowly raised his head.
He had two eyes, one golden but cracked, the other crooked due to a fractured eye socket. He used these eyes to look at Jiang Chen in the distance, at the boy in the school uniform standing still, without even moving an inch.
Jiang Chen only used one move from beginning to end.
Get close and throw a punch.
There are no techniques, no strategies, no fancy moves. It's just the most primitive, savage, and unreasonable way of fighting—rush in, punch after punch, and then punch again.
But his fists were too heavy. So heavy that the Thirteenth Apostle's parry felt like paper, so heavy that his bones shattered like cookies, so heavy that his defense, which had never been breached in three hundred years, was no match for those fists.
And all of this happened in just a few minutes.