There Really Is a Combination Technique
After reviving Sylvester, the black-haired youth looked years older. His hair, now streaked with gray, gave him a frail, exhausted appearance.
Seeing this, Yang Ning didn't dare ask him to heal himself or Willie. He glanced at Willie—the silly brother was already pulling up his shirt, proudly showing Sylvester his bruises and boasting about his "victories."
Hmm… doesn't look too serious.
The youth struggled to sit up, voice cold and flat.
"I've fulfilled your request. You can leave now."
Just like that?
Yang Ning was puzzled. This was nothing like the fearsome "Grim Reaper" the natives had described. He'd expected a price, a demand—something. Instead, the youth simply dismissed them.
But years of being tricked had sharpened Yang Ning's instincts. A warning bell rang in his head. Could this be a trap?
He changed his mind on the spot.
"Death, huh? My brother just clawed his way back from the edge. I'm a bit worried. We'll rest here a couple of days—let him recover—before we go."
He gave the youth a sharp look. "Any objections… Death?"
"You—!"
The youth—Arthur—flushed with anger but said nothing. He just stood there, fists clenched.
Then, strangely, his rage vanished. His voice turned calm, laced with quiet bitterness.
"Whether I object doesn't matter. What matters is whether he does."
"Him?"
Before Yang Ning could ask further, a booming voice echoed from the gate.
"Me!"
A massive man strode in—towering, draped in furs, his head adorned with colorful bird feathers. Behind him marched dozens of muscular hunters in tribal gear, followed by a crowd of ragged villagers.
This man had clearly blocked their exit—but now stood inside the temple grounds.
He bowed deeply to the old man, then shot Arthur a look of open contempt. Finally, he turned to Yang Ning.
"Outsiders," he declared, voice thick with authority, "out of respect for the Divine Envoy, I'll overlook your trespass and your theft of divine power. But staying in the temple? Impossible."
Yang Ning frowned. "Who are you?"
The man threw his arms wide, laughing.
"I am Terigahil Hell, chief of the Kurakus Tribe! My people call me Village Chief—and I am master of this island!"
Yang Ning raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? So you're the village chief?"
He studied the man, racking his memory. No—this character never appeared in the original story. Just another minor local.
Little Karami, he thought dismissively. Not worth a name.
His posture shifted—more arrogant, less cautious.
"What if I insist on staying?"
The chief grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "Then we settle this with force." He turned to the old man. "Divine Envoy—what do you think?"
"Heh."
Yang Ning drew Kotetsu in one smooth motion, blade angled low. He stopped the old man before he could speak.
"I quite like settling things with force."
The chief—Black Law—didn't charge immediately. He narrowed his eyes.
"You too…?"
Yang Ning shook his head. "No. I'm not one of those disgusting things."
Not one? Black Law glanced at the old man. Seeing no denial, he smirked—and leapt back into the crowd.
"Arthur! What are you waiting for?!"
Yang Ning turned to the closed-eyed youth. So he's the source of this chief's confidence?
But Arthur didn't attack.
Instead, he ran toward the gate—tears streaming down his face, as if accepting his fate.
Huh? Yang Ning was confused. Some kind of trick? A setup?
He was half right.
Arthur reached the gate—and placed a hand on the shoulder of a burly hunter.
That hunter spread his arms, gripping the shoulders of the two beside him. Those two grabbed the next, and so on—until the entire crowd outside formed a human chain, connected shoulder to shoulder.
To Yang Ning, it looked bizarre—less like a ritual, more like a grotesque human centipede.
Then—green light.
A fluorescent glow erupted from Arthur's palm, spreading through the chain like wildfire. In seconds, every native was bathed in eerie green energy.
Whoosh!
The light lasted only an instant—then reversed course. Like water sucked into a vortex, the green energy rushed back through the chain—all of it converging into Arthur.
His body swelled. His hair, white just moments before, turned black again. Power radiated from him.
But he didn't keep it.
Instead, he placed a hand on Black Law's back—and transferred every drop of that energy to the chief.
Black Law exploded in size. His muscles bulged, glowing ghostly green. A violent, overwhelming aura rolled off him like a storm.
From a distance, Yang Ning stared—jaw slack.
"…Holy crap. The Hulk."
Tears welled in his eyes. He hadn't expected to see that here. It wasn't real—but it was close enough to hurt.
He turned sharply. "You guys—get out of here. Find somewhere to hide."
This thing wasn't just strong—it was drug-fueled, amplified, and unstable.
Willie immediately helped Sylvester toward the thatched huts. Nami hesitated—then followed, biting her lip.
Yang Ning turned back, Kotetsu raised, eyes blazing.
After slaughtering that ship, his stats had skyrocketed. He needed a real fight to test them—and this green monster was perfect.
Black Law—now a true behemoth—pounded his chest twice, roared, and charged.
The ground shook. Air pressure blasted outward, knocking onlookers off their feet.
"ROAR!"
A fist—nearly half Yang Ning's size—tore through the air. The wind alone felt like a wall of stone.
Yang Ning didn't dodge.
He summoned his Soul Furnace Shield.
He wanted to test it: 640 shield, 330 armor—could it hold?
THUMP—!!!!
The impact thundered across the valley. Dust exploded outward in a ring, choking the air. Everyone ducked, covering their faces.
A native on the ground, coughing, whispered:
"Is he dead?"
Another, even dirtier, nodded. "Definitely. There won't even be a body left. The chief once killed a mountain tiger with one punch!"
"Exactly! Who could survive that?!"
But Arthur, still kneeling, spoke quietly—voice grave.
"No. That outsider… isn't dead."
The crowd fell silent. Hundreds of eyes turned to the center of the dust cloud.