Chapter 919: Come to Me
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Flower Empress stepped closer to Han Sen, trepidatiously. When she was within arm’s reach, he still hadn’t moved an inch; he really was going to let her hit him.
“Your arrogance will soon take flight, making way for the tears that are to follow,” Flower Empress said to herself, as she observed Han Sen’s pretty face. A cloud of light, filled with flower-like holographic shapes, enshrouded her fist. With it raised and primed, she launched forward to hit Han Sen.
All the spirits looked on him, contemplating whether or not he’d dodge the incoming attack. But there he remained standing, complete with the holy light that emanated from his body. He accepted the hit.
The flowery-light did not blow up against Han Sen; instead, it left a stamp on him.
“Remember; I get a hundred punches, so you stay still now.” She was afraid Han Sen would regret his decision from earlier, so she made sure to cast Flower Stamp on him before anything else.
Han Sen’s body was instantly covered in flowers, almost buried beneath the mountain of blooms.
Flower Stamp, despite the grievances it could cause, was a beautiful skill. The force dealt to the recipient of the skill was equivalent to that of a train.
Even the spirits that were looking on almost felt the power of such a wretched attack.
Flower Empress then proceeded to hit Han Sen thirty-seven times. She smiled and said, “Are you sure you want this to go on, kingy? I have only hit you thirty-seven times.”
Han Sen’s face looked dim, as if he was struggling to withstand the initial weight of the flowers and subsequent blows.
But Han Sen then smiled and said, “You hit like a girl. Oh, wait a minute…”
“Pah! Fine, I’ll give you a real taste of what I’m capable of. We’ll see how much longer you can remain so cocky.” Flower Empress could see the exhaustion creeping onto Han Sen’s face, so she was more than happy to apply more hits.
As more hits were thrown, more flowers mounted on him. His presence there was little more than a flowery knoll, and he was practically hidden from sight.
The spirits, seeing Han Sen covered by trembling flowers, believed he wouldn’t remain standing much longer. Any second now, he’d collapse and be defeated.
“The King is remarkable, isn’t he? It’s still pretty amazing he has managed to endure so many Flower Stamps without falling. I fear his arrogance and willingness to accept one hundred such punches will be his downfall, though. I’m really not sure how much longer he can go on,” a spirit said, one who understood the power of Flower Stamp.
“The King is an interesting man; he seems more likely to die by the weight of flowers than anything else. I don’t think Flower Empress cares too much, though; either way, she’s just happy she has this opportunity to beat him,” another spirit said.
“Can someone explain to me how powerful Flower Stamp is?” Many spirits were unaware of what was so special about Flower Stamp, and so one of them made sure to ask.
A spirit explained, “You don’t know about Flower Stamp? To kill Flaming Emperor, she only had to use ten Flower Stamps. That is what got her to the fourth rank. I thought everyone knew this, but it can’t be helped if some people choose to live beneath rocks. Anyway, Flaming Emperor couldn’t help but compliment her, following his defeat. It was all quite the spectacle, and it’s partly why she became so famous.”
“He complimented her? Tell me quickly!” the spirit asked.
“One flower, one mountain; one stamp, ten years. That means ten flowers equal the weight of ten mountains, and breaking one stamp would take ten years,” the spirit explained.
“That is an exaggeration, surely. She has only opened her first gene lock, so how can she be that powerful?” The spirits that did not know about this beforehand struggled to believe the authenticity of the tale.
Han Sen’s body was now quivering madly. When Flower Empress took notice of the fact he was ready to buckle under the weight, any second now, she quickly attacked him some more.
With every punch she delivered, he looked to be in a worse state. Yet strangely, nothing she did would make him fall over. He simply remained where he was, shaking more and more.
“One more punch is all it will take; one more punch and he’ll be down!” The King of Day shouted out loud.
“Something is wrong.” Heavenly Empress frowned, but it was too late to warn Flower Empress.
Flower Empress had only one thing in mind, and that was bringing The King down. She had not kept track of how many times she had attacked.
She believed she would not have to count how many times she attacked, as it’d be over quickly.
But this soon proved untrue, because Han Sen was refusing to submit and fall. Every time she attacked, all the spirits thought he was on the precipice of falling over, and all Han Sen would need was one more nudge. But none of this came to pass, and The King’s body simply shivered.
“Stop!” Just as Flower Empress was about to attack once more, Han Sen shouted. She relented.
“What? Do you concede?” Flower Empress had a cocky grin creep across her face, believing she had managed to get The King to throw in the towel.
Han Sen wanted to laugh, thinking it ridiculous that another king spirit had not kept track of the number of times she had hit him. She had delivered one hundred punches and was oblivious to the fact. She even asked if he was going to concede.
“You’ve run out of free punches. You’ve delivered your one hundredth,” Han Sen said.
“I ran out?” Flower Empress gasped, and her mind quickly raced to recall and count how many punches she had thrown. He wasn’t kidding.
Her Flower Stamp had not been able to fell Han Sen, and she could not believe it.
Although she had only opened her first gene lock, her Flower Stamp power could compare to a little hill. How powerful could The King be, to withstand so many of them?
But Flower Empress, instead of her face turning to scorn, simply smiled and said, “Okay, I’ve given you my hundred punches. Come to me and show me what you’ve got.”
Flower Empress stood where she was, giggling. She wasn’t going to free Han Sen from the abundance of flowers that buried him.