https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-116-Fermenting-Thank-you-Alliance-Lord-Bai-Li-Tongyun-/13686555/
Chapter 117: Pillar of Heaven
(Thanks to the Grand Master 'Qingqingqiaohaohe')
As Zhang Yu quietly conserved his strength and energy, a wave of shock rippled through the arena.
In the live broadcast booth, Gang Shan stared at the Sky Column displaying 10,000 kilograms, stunned. “Is he really challenging that weight in the second round?”
On stage, Xiong Wenwu slowly ascended, his eyes locked onto the descending Sky Column above him—like a sky collapsing upon him, inch by inch.
Then, with a thunderous crash, his massive bear-like hands slammed into the column.
A deafening boom echoed across the field. Xiong Wenwu’s entire body tensed—veins bulging, muscles straining, teeth grinding so hard that blood trickled from his lips. Yet, no matter how much force he unleashed, the column showed no sign of stopping. It pressed down relentlessly, inch by agonizing inch, threatening to crush him beneath its weight.
Just as despair began to take hold, Xiong Wenwu unleashed a primal roar—so fierce it echoed like a dragon’s cry across the sky, sending shivers through every student and spectator.
At that moment, his body erupted in a geyser of blood.
Black dragon scales split open like torn fabric, each fissure bleeding crimson. His flesh and hide, unable to contain the explosive surge of power, had ruptured under the strain.
But as the blood sprayed into the air, the Sky Column—once inexorably descending—halted. Then, with another roar, it reversed, lifting several inches upward.
10,000 kilograms. Success.
From the stands, Hu Yuntao let out a thunderous tiger’s roar, and the crowd of Hongta High students erupted in cheers.
Gang Shan murmured, surprised. “He’s already going all out in the second round? His muscles must be severely torn. He won’t be able to compete in the next round.”
“But with 10,000 kilograms, only Yu Xinghan here has a real chance of surpassing it. Now it all comes down to whether Yu Xinghan will push himself in the final round.”
Le Jingchen watched Xiong Wenwu limp off the stage, but something struck him—his injuries were healing fast.
He thought to himself: Black Dragon Bloodline… granting them extraordinary regeneration? And combined with…
As medical staff rushed toward Xiong Wenwu, Le Jingchen narrowed his eyes. “This man might just come back for the third round.”
He exhaled, impressed. “Xiong Wenwu’s 10,000-kilogram feat will surely rattle the other competitors. The final round is going to be intense.”
…
With the second round concluded, contestants began submitting their final-round target weights.
Staff members recorded them, quietly amazed. Was it the adrenaline from Xiong Wenwu’s final effort? Everyone’s pushing hard now…
Then, their eyes snapped to Zhang Yu.
The staff member froze. “This number… are you sure?”
After double-checking, they reluctantly entered the figure—still stunned.
Is this guy insane?
Meanwhile, in the rest area of Bailong High School…
Yu Xinghan, about to submit his own weight, was stopped.
On the phone, he argued with Li Xuelian. “Sister, why stop me? You know my strength—this weight is nothing.”
Li Xuelian’s voice remained calm. “But going beyond your limits will injure you.”
“Xinghan, your body is strong, but that’s also why it’s so expensive to maintain.”
“I don’t want to waste Father’s money on medical bills.”
Yu Xinghan clenched his jaw. “But what about the contract? If Xiong Wenwu beats me in the final round, I’ll only get second place here.”
Li Xuelian replied coolly. “Even if you get second here, your total score still puts you first. You’re still the champion of this Sports Competition.”
“Don’t waste money chasing trivial rankings.”
Yu Xinghan felt a deep frustration. Especially knowing his strength far surpassed Xiong Wenwu’s—but he couldn’t unleash it, couldn’t crush the man in one move. Instead, he might even lose the final round’s top spot to him.
The Tianwu Heart Scripture he’d cultivated for years suddenly felt sluggish, like a machine misfiring.
Feeling his frustration, Li Xuelian added sharply: “Xinghan, remember—your body no longer belongs to you. Everything you are belongs to Father. You have no right to squander assets that aren’t yours.”
“That’s Father’s will.”
After hanging up, she thought to herself: Long-term cultivation of the Tianwu Heart Scripture has made him rigid in thought. This is the perfect chance to rein him in. It’ll also set the stage for the next cultivation manual.
As for the rankings? She didn’t care.
Yu Xinghan already had too much of a lead in the first three rounds. Even if Xiong Wenwu stole the final round’s top spot, Yu Xinghan would still win the championship—and the advertising and endorsement contracts with Bailong High School and Xianyun Group would go through as planned.
Back at the phone, Yu Xinghan stared at the silent device.
Then—crack—his fingers crushed the phone into pieces.
A cold aura radiated from him, freezing the surrounding high school students. No one dared approach.
After a long silence, under repeated urging from staff, he finally walked forward, face like ice, and submitted his final weight.
…
With the final round’s Sky Column activated, the competitors no longer held back. No more caution. No more restraint. Each one threw everything into their attempt, pushing their bodies to the absolute limit.
Some succeeded. Some failed. Some were injured.
Gang Shan remarked, “Everyone’s going all in this round. The target weights are fascinating—those who set them most precisely likely have the clearest understanding of their own physical limits.”
Le Jingchen nodded. “Theoretically, the better you know your body and your condition, the more accurate your target weight will be.”
When Bai Zhenzhen stepped onto the stage, the Sky Column read 8,050 kilograms.
The immense pressure surged through her palms. Her scars flared crimson—like clawed hands slowly gripping her flesh.
Thanks to the earlier Speed Competition, the scars had become even more vivid, glowing like rubies.
Then, with a furious shout, she heaved upward. The pressure forced her scars open, blood spilling down her body.
She groaned in pain. Damn it… hold on, your body! I need to hit 10,000!
She held it for five seconds—then collapsed, trembling, covered in blood.
Wang Hai rushed up, shaking his head. “You know your limits. Why did you push so hard?”
Bai Zhenzhen smiled faintly, silent.
Last time, in the Martial Arts Competition, I had no money, no courage to go all the way.
Now, Yu got the championship and covered my medical bills. I can finally fight without holding back.
She glanced toward Zhang Yu, still utterly focused, detached from the world.
Good. Yu… keep going. Mom’s wounds are counting on you to pay the medical bills.
Just then, a wave of heat washed over her.
She turned to see Le Mulan passing by—her entire body shimmering with steam, as if she were about to boil alive.
Bai Zhenzhen grimaced inwardly. What the hell has she taken? Is she turning into a furnace?
Le Mulan remembered the pills she’d just swallowed.
Her coach fretted. “Even if it’s Le Jingchen’s request, is this dosage really safe?”
Le Mulan waved it off. “Give them to me.”
She turned to the camera, her voice calm. “For most students, this round is just about testing their strength. But for me—after the Super Metabolism Surgery—this round also tests my drug tolerance.”
She displayed the vials, then poured them all into her body.
Moments later, her heart pounded violently. Her face flushed crimson.
“My target is 9,000 kilograms. Only strength athletes can reach that. But now? I can do it.”
On stage, Le Mulan trembled, holding the 9,000-kilogram column for five seconds—then collapsed to her knees. She felt her leg bones crack.
But with thousands of cameras trained on her, with a public image to uphold, she couldn’t afford to show weakness. This was her duty as a key heir in her family.
She forced herself up, standing as if unharmed, and walked off.
As soon as she stepped down, she was swarmed by cameras. Dizzy and light-headed, she still managed to deliver her ad line—prompted by her coach.
Then, Song Hailong lifted 9,300 kilograms.
Hu Yuntao, drenched in blood, held 9,800 kilograms.
Yu Xinghan broke past 10,001 kilograms—becoming the second person to succeed at 10,000.
And then, under the spotlight, Xiong Wenwu—still bleeding—slowly stepped back onto the stage.
But just as the crowd anticipated his performance, Wang Hai noticed something odd.
“Where’s Zhang Yu? Why hasn’t he come up yet?”
“Is he behind Xiong Wenwu?”
“Just how much did he submit?”
At that moment, Xiong Wenwu looked up again at the descending Sky Column—its dark mass blotting out the sky, pressing down like the end of the world.
And this feeling… he knew it too well.
Every Breeding Base selection. Every time a comrade was eliminated. Every high school exam. Every moment of fear, helplessness, and inevitability.
Now, as he braced himself, hands outstretched, the weight of 10,800 kilograms pressed down—unstoppable.
His head bowed. His spine curved. His knees buckled.
A judge asked, “Xiong Wenwu, do you wish to continue?”
He didn’t hear.
Only one voice echoed in his mind: Father Lord.
“10,800 kilograms—should be within your reach. Strength Check is your specialty, isn’t it? If you can’t do this, who will buy Red Tower’s new tech?”
“Injury?”
“No injury? How do you prove the tech’s healing capabilities?”
“Injury is good. The worse the damage, the stronger the recovery.”
His muscles strained to the breaking point. His teeth cracked. His heart hammered like a car engine.
I can! I can do this, Father Lord!
Not anymore am I that 33456th number, waiting passively for fate to crush me. No more watching the sky fall without a fight.
Now I’ve read books. I’ve cultivated Dao. I’m a high school student. I’m going to college. I’m a celestial prodigy.
Now… I can pierce the heavens!
ROAR!
With a burst of tearing muscle and splintering bone, Xiong Wenwu shoved upward.
His body surged upright. The Sky Column reversed, lifting a full meter.
Blood exploded from his wounds. Blood gushed from his mouth.
The next five seconds felt like a lifetime.
When he came to, he was already lying on the platform.
Hu Yuntao rushed to him. “Brother! You did it! With this footage, the Black Dragon Bloodline tech will sell out!”
Instantly, cameras swarmed around him, capturing every second of his recovery.
Hu Yuntao urged, “Brother, hold on! Don’t pass out! There’s still the ad line to deliver!”
As Xiong Wenwu was carried off—Red Tower’s fans screaming his name, students and spectators in awe—something strange happened.
The Sky Column on stage trembled.
Then, a number appeared.
12,531 kilograms.
The crowd froze.
…There’s still someone left?
—
The divine battle of the starting line has officially begun.
Thank you all for your nominations—it earned me the right to enjoy a Luzhou Group buffet.
Even though lately I’ve been reduced to eating in the bathroom, I still ask: please throw me some exclusive Gods’ War commemorative monthly tickets.
The chapter fragments for repayment are almost complete. Should be able to clear one chapter by the day after tomorrow.
(End of Chapter)
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