Apocalypse Gachapon Chapter 1915: Sea of Glue

Previously on Apocalypse Gachapon...

The Star-Eye Clan spacecraft plunged into silence as their momentary triumph faded, realizing the overwhelming numbers and Ye Zhongming's brief transformation had spared their enemies from total collapse. With less than half an hour until the Novice battlefield's end, chaos erupted around the small hill as newcomers clashed with original attackers, diverting some pressure but intensifying the peril for Ye Zhongming, White Robe, and their allies. A Su Clan warrior fell in the renewed assault, while widespread battles raged for points, survival, and old hatreds, leaving only White Robe, Yisewei, and Jie Su as the core defenders. As ten minutes remained, White Robe urgently called Ye Zhongming's name, prompting him to consume a prepared elixir that unleashed expanding circles of black shadows mimicking his form.

Essentially, no creature inside the strike zone managed to evade that single blow.

The reason evasion was impossible stemmed from the abrupt and swift nature of the strikes, which sealed off the entire area and included a subtle mental jolt.

Even attempts to leap away proved utterly futile.

While this blow didn't inflict heavy losses on the gathered beings, it sparked utter disorder.

Confusion gripped them: What sort of technique was this? How did it sync so perfectly with the Novice's motions? How could it command such a vast number of dark silhouettes all at once? And why, after their forms had let attacks slip right through earlier, did these shadows now connect with solid hits upon striking?

In retaliation, numerous individuals unleashed their assaults, hurling arms and abilities toward those dark silhouettes.

Yet the outcome mirrored the prior attempts: every strike simply phased through the shadows. Since countless fighters saw this as a prime chance and went all-out, the bursts of light and force surged past the silhouettes to engulf beings on the far side.

Chaos erupted even more fiercely in an instant.

Right then, Ye Zhongming shifted once more. He tilted his torso forward a bit and executed a lateral kick.

Those dark silhouettes instantly mirrored the action in unison. However, this round shifted from the initial ring of shadows and the next one sealing a blockade to the second and third rings unleashing a direct confrontation, followed by the fourth and fifth, and beyond.

Beings who had escaped the prior assault found no refuge now.

The strikes remained methodical, merely altering their orientation.

The mental jolt persisted, ensuring no being trapped in the sealed strike perimeter could slip away.

From a bird's-eye view, Ji Ruiguang sensed a striking familiarity, an essence of discipline and cohesion exclusive to the nation.

Countless beings took the kicks, staggering and toppling over.

Next, Ye Zhongming unleashed a gesture that left onlookers cringing in disbelief.

He... raised his hand and smacked the empty air.

The dark silhouettes echoed the motion together, smacking numerous beings.

Back on Earth, within the homeland, a face-slap went by the name of an ear strike. Here, owing to stature differences, these smacks struck diverse spots across the victims' forms.

It caused no real pain, yet exactly because it paled against the earlier blows and kicks, the affected beings all shared the precise... sting of disgrace akin to a facial slap.

Indeed, that top Novice was employing this tactic to mock and belittle them!

"Kill him, and these things will naturally disappear."

A voice bellowed, and agreement rang out from the crowd without delay.

Absolutely, these dark silhouettes nullified their powers. So, target the source instead. He stood plainly on the nearby ridge. Rush him; these intangible shadows couldn't halt the collective charge.

These beings, once clashing solo or even against kin, now aligned in purpose: eliminate this bold Novice who provoked every soul present.

White Robe, Yisewei, and Jie Su brimmed with despair in that instant. They pondered, 'Ye Zhongming, why not summon that colossal dark fog behemoth to wipe them all out? Instead, you conjure this spectacle, skipping real strikes for a mocking swat. Aren't you inviting disaster?'

'See now, they're rallying once again, and the numbers... surpass even the force that hit us earlier.'

"This guy has conned us."

Yisewei gave a wry grin, cast a profound glance at White Robe, and positioned herself beside him. Her vow to stand or fall as one shone through clearly.

Among the hill's occupants, others might find mercy, but they would never forgive the Star-Eye Clan's leading Novice, Ye Zhongming, or White Robe. To shield Robe Bai from harm, she resolved to guard him unto death.

Jie Su let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. He had believed today's trial cleared, yet it appeared one final clash loomed. Still, victory seemed improbable.

Gazing skyward, Jie Su sensed this as a final goodbye to his nearest kin.

Yet as the handful of hilltop fighters braced for a desperate stand, Ye Zhongming stirred anew.

This round, he spun about and, facing away, unleashed a barrage of punches, elbow strikes, kicks, knee thrusts...

In this moment, the man was channeling the Earth-born Chinese martial arts imparted by Xia Lei, Mo Ye, and fellow masters.

Each strike and follow-up flowed with structure and precision.

Strangers might not identify it, but Ji Ruiguang, Mu Hanyi, and kin recognized the style. Though details escaped them, they knew it as Chinese martial arts. For outsiders like Helsky and Mechanical Genius, had paralysis not bound them, they'd likely whoop and cry, 'Heavens, Chinese Kung Fu!'

As Ye Zhongming performed, the trailing shadows replicated flawlessly. This time, rather than clashing among themselves, they advanced as one toward his aimed direction.

Their blows, laced with mental jolts, now whipped through the air with rumbling gusts and thunderous force.

"That is... what?"

Jie Su, Robe Bai, Yisewei, and companions reeled in shock, realizing the shadows' strikes—mirroring Ye Zhongming's and timed with his—diverged sharply from the earlier playful jabs, kicks, and swats. These carried an enigmatic strength.

Oppressive and… Sinister.

Such clashing sensations ought never to blend, yet here they fused.

As observers, they grasped it intuitively, but those ensnared amid the shadow throng endured it firsthand.

They realized that, unable to harm the shadows, the foes' assault tempo stayed unbroken. Any being ahead became fair game, and the might behind each blow proved astonishingly potent.

What deepened their despair was the crushing weight that followed activation, weighing down their frames and slashing their nimbleness.

Moreover, the shadows' strikes bore venom. Mild yet insidious, it hampered battle prowess.

This spiraled into a deadly loop: take a hit, grow leaden and tainted, then invite more blows, amplifying the burden and poison.

Break free? Only by evading entirely. But the mental jolts in those strikes dazed incrementally. One might slip the initial, yet not the next or the one after...

From on high, the spectacle evoked panicked flight by the assorted races' denizens, pursued relentlessly by the shadows. Once seized, a storm of brutal, vintage strikes rained down.

No soul had witnessed such a combat style before. The shadows acted like a viscous tide, ensnaring the trapped beings, then pounding them with crude yet flesh-bruising barrages until the diverse races' fighters crumpled.

Certain beings uncovered a loophole: sprawling flat against these hittable yet un hittable shadows let them simply stride by.

Emulating swiftly, others refused pointless beatings and mimicked the ploy, feigning demise on the ground. But they missed a vital flaw: the original prone ones were petite; flat, they dipped below the shadows' knee level, matching Ye Zhongming's stature. These copycats? Even prone, they loomed like mounds. Thus, strikes not only persisted but intensified upon them.