Chapter Three: The Frenzied Devourer (Part One)

Escorted back to the combat pod by the twenty-three men of the Kuang Qingshan squad, Kuang Chi remained in a state of inexplicable excitement, his face glowing with a strange flush. The entire combat pod watched him with awe, paying no mind to his odd expression. Any contempt they had once felt for him had long since been cast into the void of space. For those who had truly seen battle, respect was reserved for genuine strength alone. Nobility did not command their deference.

Before the battle, Kuang Chi, though captain, was met with nothing but resignation from everyone, including his own family. Beneath that resignation lay deep-seated worry. And what of that worry? Every member of ship 78456, to some extent, harbored resentment towards Kuang Chi. On the battlefield, the warship is an indivisible whole, but for the average soldier, it is their entire world. If the ship is damaged, how many can truly hope to return alive to the fortress?

To entrust their lives and futures to a novice—a noble son with no real combat experience or formal military training—robbed the entire crew of any sense of security. No one wanted to follow such a man, but as the heir to the Kuang family, none could oppose him; they had no choice but to swallow their misgivings in silence.

Fortunately, Kuang Chi soon relinquished command of the ship, earning the crew's forgiveness. Yet it was this very battle that won him their respect.

Now, every combatant who had returned safely stood quietly to the side, watching him. In this fight, Kuang Chi had slain more enemies than any other warrior on ship 78456. As a blade forged from twenty-four elite fighters, their lethality was formidable. Witnessing Kuang Chi’s fervor in battle, Kuang Qingshan and the others dared not compete for glory. Whenever possible, they would even toss still-breathing foes into the terrifying thicket of vines trailing behind him.

Kuang Chi paid no heed to the expressions of the others. Once inside his private chamber, he hastily summoned Xiaohua the moment the door closed. Anxiously, he blurted out, “Xiaohua, what happened just now? Why did I feel a surge of energy flow into my inner force each time I killed someone?”

Xiaohua pondered a moment before replying, “Master, this is perfectly normal. Both Xiaohei and I can absorb energy from our prey. If we couldn’t, how would we ever grow?”

Only then did Kuang Chi recall why other types of Divine Martial Beasts consumed vast quantities of food or crystal cores daily—this was their path to growth.

Previously, Kuang Chi had wondered why his own beast did not need to eat. Tradition held that plant-based Divine Martial Beasts were no different from ordinary plants, deriving energy solely from sunlight. Back then, he had not given it much thought, and the low intelligence typical of plant-type beasts led everyone to overlook how they gained energy.

Yet this raised another question: the energy a Divine Martial Beast absorbs is meant for its own growth. As the host, he could only borrow that power when merged. But now, it seemed that he could directly receive a portion of the energy whenever Xiaohua absorbed it.

After some thought, Xiaohua finally explained, “Master, it’s probably because we were merged at the time. Our energies are shared, so when I absorb energy, you naturally receive a portion as well.”

Once Kuang Chi understood why he could absorb a share of energy with every kill, a surge of excitement overtook him. Laughing heartily, he exclaimed, “Xiaohua, does that mean if I merge with you in the future, I can absorb energy through killing? That’s the purest kind of energy—perfect for fusing directly into my Dragonforce!”

As a Divine Martial Beast, Xiaohua lacked any human sense of morality. Finding Kuang Chi’s reasoning sound, she nodded vigorously. She herself had benefited immensely from the battle: with each kill, she absorbed at least ninety percent of the energy. Having long been frustrated by her slow growth, she now wished Kuang Chi would find more people to kill at once.

From that day forward, whenever ship 78456 entered combat, enemy warriors were in for a dire fate. Kuang Chi would seize every opportunity to charge recklessly into enemy ranks. With each campaign, the number of vines sprouting from his back increased, his movements grew swifter, and often the enemy was ensnared before they could even react—only to be reduced moments later to drifting shreds of flesh in the void.

The eyes of the entire crew grew stranger each day as they watched him. In less than a year, Kuang Chi had butchered at least several hundred with his uniquely merciless methods—not counting those killed by others and later swept into the living thicket of vines.

Within a year, Kuang Chi’s mastery of the Dragonforce Art advanced directly from the sixth to the seventh level.

The sixth level marked the innate realm, but reaching the seventh was no simple feat. The Dragonforce Art of the Kuang family had nine levels; the ninth was the pinnacle of human martial achievement, the threshold to becoming a true War God.

But the gulf between the sixth and seventh levels was profound. Many Kuang family members spent their lives cultivating Dragonforce, their inner strength sufficient to become top-tier warriors, yet still could not break through to the seventh level.

According to his grandfather, when imparting the seventh level’s principles, the true barrier was not the quantity of inner force, but the refinement of the mind—the strength of spirit. The greatest flaw of the Dragonforce Art was that its first eight levels did nothing to temper the spirit.

Thus, Kuang family members who reached the sixth level would venture into the world, seeking to hone their minds by other means. Military service and the ceaseless refinement of war were ideal, as was seeking worthy opponents for duels.

This is why the Kuang family has always wielded immense influence within the military.

The Starlit Void Sutra, a top-tier spiritual cultivation method, is among humanity’s highest disciplines for refining the mind. It alone harmonizes with Dragonforce, perfectly compensating for the art’s fatal weakness. This was why Kuang Chi’s great-grandfather had once offered the first seven levels of the Dragonforce Art in exchange for the first three forms of the Starlit Void Sutra. His offer was declined by a friend who saw little value in a purely destructive art, and so he had returned to Kuang Zhan Star disappointed.

Kuang Chi’s luck was remarkable. The pure energy Xiaohua absorbed from slain foes not only strengthened his Dragonforce within, but also, in a mysterious way, nourished his spiritual power.

In the past year, the energy of hundreds of deaths had fueled his cultivation, making his inner force and spirit grow ever more formidable—even though he had not devoted himself to training in the Starlit Void Sutra. Over a month ago, his spiritual strength had reached the point where he could begin practicing the third form of the Sutra.

This, above all, was the reason Kuang Chi could, at such a young age, break through to the seventh level of the Dragonforce Art.