Chapter 3949 — To Fight or Not to Fight
The Blossom Guardian · Page 2 of 2
But now, having surged by a great margin in strength, Wei Zhao felt little worry in his heart. And because there was a strong chance Meng Jueming had already seen through his identity, his need to prepare for crisis made him all the more eager to test just how strong he had become.
With his own strength and true qi shielding his body, a pill-fire bomb of Kang Jingming's caliber should not pose a lethal threat. Just how far that protection could hold out—that would show exactly how much strength he now possessed.
At last, Kang Jingming could no longer withstand the crushing pressure and spoke up to beg for mercy: "Wei Zhao—no, Head Wei Zhao, I know you're formidable, so stop toying with me, would you? Just let me go, and I'll concede right now, this instant, without a word of complaint!"
"Let you go?" Wei Zhao raised an eyebrow and smiled with amusement. "What good does that do me? Once you're dead, your cave abode naturally falls into my hands anyway. What benefit is there in sparing you? Oh, that's right—I heard your cave abode is the number one on the mountaintop. It sounds rather nice. I wouldn't mind living there myself."
"I'll die, but won't you die too? You madman, do you even know what kind of power the pill-fire bomb in my hand really has?" Kang Jingming was goaded into hysteria.
Among humankind there might be those who did not fear death, but Kang Jingming was absolutely not one of them. Not only did he fear death, he feared it desperately—otherwise he would never have gone to such lengths, shamelessly fawning and clinging to others' coattails.
He had finally latched onto a towering tree like Xu Lingchong, thinking that from then on he could summon wind and rain on Cloud Terrace Island. If he were to be killed by Wei Zhao now—killed by his own pill-fire bomb, no less—then he would truly have no place left to weep. The words "die with regrets" might as well have been a farewell speech tailor-made for him.
Having heard this much, the crowd below the stage had more or less caught on. The term "pill-fire bomb" was unfamiliar, but given Kang Jingming's identity as a pill refiner and his previous performance in the newcomers' challenge tournament, such a technique was not hard to understand.
What baffled the crowd, however, was this: judging by the situation, Kang Jingming's trump card had not only failed to display its might against Wei Zhao this time—it had become a hot potato he could not shake off no matter how he tried, and Wei Zhao had forced him into a position where he could neither advance nor retreat.
For a moment, everyone could not help but exchange glances. Looking at Kang Jingming's bedraggled, sweat-drenched state on the stage, then at Wei Zhao's light and breezy expression, it was clear this was no climactic duel between newcomers at all. This new steward Kang Jingming, who had always strutted about flaunting his power, did not amount to a fart in Wei Zhao's presence!
Kang Jingming struggled with all his might to break free, yet Wei Zhao maintained an unshakable, utterly composed expression throughout, as though the pill-fire bomb that Kang Jingming himself feared like a tiger truly amounted to nothing in his eyes.
It was as if he were holding nothing more than a tiny firecracker that could not even crack a layer of skin—that, and nothing more.
His desperate struggle having failed, Kang Jingming was finally in despair this time. His earlier begging for mercy had merely been a little scheme, an attempt to fool Wei Zhao into loosening his grip so he could seize the chance to escape. But now he had at last recognized one thing.