In the battle of ocular arts, neither combatant had managed to gain the upper hand.
This outcome was one that many spectators had never anticipated.
Among the Xiahou clan, Xiahou Ying's cherry lips had curled so far downward they could have hung a soy sauce bottle. She had been relishing the prospect of watching her brother unleash his overwhelming might, crushing that arrogant wretch Shao Yuan and beating him until he couldn't find his own teeth on the ground.
But the scene she knew so well—the one that had played out countless times before—had surprisingly failed to materialize this time.
After all, the Blazing Sun Eye was one of the Divine Abilities in which
A contest of ocular arts was the truest test of one's foundations. Such a battle was not merely about the eyes themselves—it encompassed the depth of one's cultivation realm and the power of one's spiritual sense.
Put simply, ocular arts could only reach their full potential when fused with a powerful spiritual sense. When cultivated to their absolute peak, ocular arts became the merging of spiritual sense into the eyes themselves—a mere glance, open or shut, enough to slay an opponent.
For someone to fight Xiahou Zong to a draw in ocular arts—just who exactly was this Shao Yuan?
Xiahou Ying practically itched to storm the stage and lend her brother a hand.
Meanwhile, among the Xiahou clan, Marquis Xiaoxiao and Xiahou Zhen exchanged a glance, a trace of undisguised astonishment flickering in both their eyes.
Clearly, the scene unfolding before them had left even these two titans of the Xiahou clan at a loss.
In all the years since Xiahou Zong had first risen to prominence, when had he ever found himself in such a situation?
Perhaps they had grown so accustomed to watching Xiahou Zong steamroll every young cultivator he faced that this development had left them somewhat disoriented.
"Kid, with the True Dragon bloodline and these ocular arts, had you not run into me, you might well have had a shot at claiming the throne among the young generation of the Divine Kingdom. A pity—you met me."
Xiahou Zong smiled with detached indifference.
Clearly, this clash of ocular arts had forced Xiahou Zong to abandon every last shred of complacency. Though his hatred for this opponent burned fierce, he understood that to bring him down this time, he would need to fight in earnest.
Ridiculing Xiahou Zong might not accomplish much, but Jiang Chen refused to believe that his opponent's Dao Heart was truly without flaw.
If he could find even the smallest crack in Xiahou Zong's composure, he was confident he could exploit it and topple the man in a single decisive strike. Through their earlier clash of ocular arts, Jiang Chen had already ascertained that in terms of pure martial cultivation, Xiahou Zong stood above him. This man was at minimum at the fifth level of the Celestial Realm, possibly even the sixth.
Jiang Chen himself had only just entered the fourth level.
Despite his advantages across the board, Jiang Chen could only manage a draw against Xiahou Zong in ocular arts—there was no way to overwhelm him.
By the standards of battles among the younger generation, Xiahou Zong was, without question, the most formidable opponent Jiang Chen had faced to date.
In duels against fellow young cultivators, Jiang Chen had always enjoyed a clear advantage. Had he been fighting at full power, virtually no one could have avoided being crushed.
But this time—for both Xiahou Zong and Jiang Chen—marked a first.
The first time either had encountered a worthy equal.
Xiahou Zong let out a cold laugh. "So you've managed to barely match me in ocular arts—what exactly is there to be smug about? Ocular arts are merely one of my many Divine Abilities. How could a mere insect like you begin to fathom the full scope of what I, Xiahou Zong, command?"
Xiahou Zong was proud, for he was the reincarnation of a god. Even without a complete awakening, he had already cast himself in the mold of a deity in his own mind.
When it came to his fellow geniuses, he had always possessed an ineffable sense of superiority.
"Is that so?" Jiang Chen taunted. "Xiahou Zong, have you ever considered what would happen if you fell from the pedestal you've built for yourself?"
Xiahou Zong replied with cool detachment. "I stand high above. Perhaps one day, someone may bring me down—but that someone is clearly not you."
Jiang Chen burst into hearty laughter. "Perhaps you've never been knocked off your divine throne before—but today, you are destined to face my judgment."
"Is that so? Then... die!"
Xiahou Zong's pupils erupted with blinding radiance. In the next instant, he thrust both hands upward, and above his head, a blazing sun seemed to materialize out of thin air, flooding the earth with searing light.
Simultaneously, countless vines sprang into existence across Xiahou Zong's body, dense and interwoven, each one resembling a sunflower turning its face toward that radiant sun, brimming with vitality.
These spirit plants bore the shape of sunflowers, yet they were far more compact and fierce, their offensive nature unmistakable.
At the center of each blossom gaped a maw like a blood-soaked throat—hungry ghosts released from the depths of hell, poised to devour the entire world.
"Hell Demon Sunflowers?" The moment Jiang Chen laid eyes on these eerie plants, knowledge of them flashed through his mind.
These were undeniably treasures of the Heavenly Rank. From their appearance, though they had not yet evolved to their ultimate form, they were already quite mature.
The Hell Demon Sunflowers possessed the resilience and growth of flora combined with the bloodthirsty temperament of savage beasts, making them extraordinarily adept at devouring everything in their path.