Having a massive body had its advantages and disadvantages. The downside was that it made maneuvering in combat difficult and reduced agility. The upside, however, was that such sheer size allowed one to endure far more punishment—to an Ink-colored Giant God, wounds that would ordinarily be fatal might amount to nothing more than superficial scratches.
Yang Kai had fought in his transformed dragon form many times and understood this well.
In terms of sheer size alone, the Ink-colored Giant God dwarfed even the Sacred Dragon he became. Every advantage that came with that scale was amplified to the extreme.
Those wounds looked ghastly—flesh peeled back, Ink Blood spurting, a truly horrific sight. But in truth, they meant very little to the Ink-colored Giant God.
Even after the Purifying Light had drastically sapped its foundations, the Ink-colored Giant God still lived up to its title as a Supreme Avatar. Flesh at the wound writhed and shifted as dense Ink Force surged forth, stabilizing the damage with startling speed. Only the power of Yang Kai's Three Thousand Great Daos resisted easy dissolution—it clung to the wounds, ceaselessly shifting and transforming, continuing to wreak havoc.
Seeing this, Yang Kai made his decision in an instant. He retracted his spear, swept away, and before the Ink-colored Giant God's colossal palm could slam down again, he hugged close to its arm and shot toward the severed limb's wound.
In the blink of an eye, Yang Kai reached the stumpy wound. Thick Ink Blood still sprayed from it, yet in just these few short moments the horrifying injury had already improved dramatically. Give it a few dozen breaths and the wound would look just like the one on its neck—scarred over, with no more Ink Blood spurting out.
The regenerative capability of such a behemoth was truly terrifying.
Yang Kai raised his spear. Heavenly and Earthly might surged as he moved with the weapon, his entire body instantly transforming into a spinning top that bored straight toward the wound.
Searing agony engulfed the Ink-colored Giant God in an instant. It roared, its voice tangled with fury and alarm: "What are you doing?!"
Yang Kai answered with a grunt, pouring everything into his assault. Man and spear became one—a single unstoppable edge that pierced through the dense Ink Force's seal, aiming to drill into the Ink-colored Giant God's body through the wound.
"You will not!" The Ink-colored Giant God had already realized what awaited it if it let Yang Kai succeed. Even a being as powerful as it knew what would happen should the intruder make it inside. Panic and terror flooded its enormous eyes. Before the battle began, it had never imagined that in such a short time it would find itself in such mortal danger.
Even as the words left its mouth, its hand swept toward Yang Kai—like swatting a mosquito latched onto its body. If that palm connected, Yang Kai would perish in an instant, Sacred Dragon form or not.
At the same time, it mustered every ounce of its power, forming a thick, tenacious barrier of Ink Force over the wound to block Yang Kai's entry. If it could crush the enemy before the invasion succeeded, every crisis would be resolved.
An unprecedented sense of danger surged through Yang Kai. As the colossal palm descended, he felt death's shadow envelop both body and mind—a sensation that squeezed the breath from his lungs. Every inch of flesh, inside and out, trembled. He had faced life-and-death crises many times throughout his cultivation, but never one as overwhelming as this—so intense that he nearly hallucinated his own demise.
The Ink Force barrier forming at the severed wound was extraordinarily sturdy. Even at full power, Yang Kai could not break through it in a single strike. Moreover, the barrier was not a single layer—it was continuous, reinforced endlessly from within.
The wisest course at this point was to withdraw, preserve himself, and look for another chance. But having tried this tactic once, doing it again would not be so easy—the Ink-colored Giant God would be on its guard.
In this razor-thin moment between life and death, a savage grin curled Yang Kai's lips. His already terrifying aura skyrocketed yet again, making the very void shudder without cease.
"You court death!" the Ink-colored Giant God bellowed, slamming its palm down with savage force. Where it passed, the void shattered like a broken mirror.
Then, just dozens of miles from Yang Kai, the palm abruptly froze—as though it had struck an enormous obstacle.
A severed arm had suddenly stretched across the void, intercepting the devastating blow. The arm was identical in length and shape to its intact counterpart.
A'Da had finally fought his way back.
At this most critical moment, it was he who had shielded Yang Kai from the killing strike.
Yang Kai had glimpsed A'Da charging to the rescue from the corner of his eye—that was what gave him the resolve to gamble everything.
A'Da held a severed arm in one hand and a severed leg in the other, his face twisted with rage. He thrust his head forward until it was nearly pressed against the Ink-colored Giant God's own face and snarled: "What do you think you're doing to the little guy?!"
In this age when all beneath the heavens was drowned in ink, finding food as a member of the Giant God race was nearly impossible. The little fellow was the only source of meals for him and A'Er. If the little guy were killed, wouldn't they go hungry forever?
Simple-minded as he was, A'Da had long grasped the essential truth that the little fellow could bring them delicious food. He would not allow the little fellow to come to even the slightest harm. Anyone who dared threaten the little guy would die!