Aerial Clash

Three days passed, and through sixty-four fiercely contested matches personally overseen by Cinder Emperor Cassius, the first round of the elimination tournament came to an end. Half the players advanced, while the other half made a grim exit. Over the course of those three days, the players showcased their respective talents, producing quite a few memorable, iconic moments: Langlibaitiao getting utterly crushed; Dawei Tianlong impaled through the heart by an icicle; Yuzhongchengchi pulling off an upset against Wangquan's vice guild master with his "Starter Trio"; Feitian Nüwu drawing a seventh-tier Fireball to instantly incinerate her opponent; and Singo defeating Dadao, a fellow Redscale Conqueror, in an aerial duel... Mantou had also seized the opportunity to amass a vast stockpile of video footage, intending to release it in bulk once the tournament ended to cash in on a massive wave of traffic. His own luck in the draw had been surprisingly good as well. He had drawn an ordinary paladin player and, relying on the aerial advantage of a wyvern knight, secured an effortless victory. In the competitors' area, the newly advanced Mantou stood with his hands on his hips, sighing with feigned profundity, "Truly, the realm's heroes gather in bustling multitudes... "To think that with just a slight display of my skills, I've already reached such heights." Beside him, Singo poured cold water on his boasting without mercy. "Ninety percent of those advancing to the Round of Sixty-Four are pro players." He pulled several arrows from his quiver and coated their tips in an unidentified liquid. "This round isn't about whether your luck is good. It's about whoever's lucky enough to draw you—that'll be the ultimate jackpot for them." Mantou couldn't help but fire back, "I'm matching pros with the mortal body of an entertainment creator!" Singo ignored him, glancing toward the tiefling staff in the distance. "Look, the next draw is about to start. Let's see if your luck holds out." Mantou puffed out his chest, pointed a finger at the tip of his nose, and declared with supreme confidence, "I've got genuine strength to back me up. No matter who steps up, I'll take them on!" "Heh. We'll see about that." Leaving those parting words, Singo got up and went to queue for the draw. Mantou pulled out his fine equipment forged by fire dwarfs, buffing the surfaces to a bright gleam as he muttered under his breath, "Who knows, maybe it'll carry me all the way to the finals..." A short while later, Singo walked back holding a bronze token. His expression was somewhat peculiar; his normally impassive face looked as though he were barely holding back a laugh. Mantou looked up, asking curiously, "Who'd you pull?" "What's with the face? Cat got your tongue?" Suddenly, Mantou thought of a certain possibility. His expression instantly froze, cold sweat trickling down his forehead. "Looks like... my luck is pretty good." With that, Singo flashed the bronze token, revealing the characters clearly engraved upon it: *Wo Qu Chi Mantou*. Mantou broke into a downpour of sweat. His face flushed bright red, and only after choking on his words for a long time did he squeeze out two syllables: "Holy shit." As a teammate, nobody knew Singo's strength better than Mantou. This lunatic stayed in his game pod twenty-four hours a day, held a high post in the Redscale Garrison, and ran all over the map daily exploring ruins, scooping up virtually every resource to be found. Even though Mantou called him "Sing-dog" every day and posted all sorts of anti-fan remarks on the forums, he had to admit that Singo's grind and mechanical skill were maxed out. His hidden trump cards were too numerous to count—calling him the strongest solo player was no exaggeration at all. *What?* *Me against Sing-dog?* *Are you kidding me...* Although it sounded pathetic, that was precisely what Mantou was thinking. How was he supposed to fight this? They were both Redscale Conquerors, but Singo had pushed his Riding proficiency to +19 and mastered numerous aerial combat techniques, reaching a level on par with their class mentor, Alger. Mantou's Riding was still hovering around +14, earned by patrolling around and arresting people each day just to scrape together experience and contribution points. As for physical attributes, Singo had explored dozens of ruins, chugging giant elixirs and physique-altering concoctions until he was bursting with power; his Strength was rumored to have hit 19 points. Mantou, on the other hand, spent his time fooling around and filming comedic video footage, relying entirely on default stat points granted by the system. The only aspect where he could barely hold his ground was his gear. Mantou had talked a few rare-grade pieces out of the fire dwarfs, which at least on paper put him on equal footing with Singo's rare set. When it came to items, the gap was even more absurd. Singo was a notorious completionist; practically every named special item in the current version had at least one copy in his hands, making his tactical repertoire endlessly versatile. "How the hell am I supposed to fight this... Sing-dog completely outclasses me across the board." The more Mantou thought about it, the more discouraged he became. He slouched across the lounge couch like a deflated steamed bun, his eyes vacant. *Wait, that's not right—don't I have a trump card too?!* Mantou kipped up from the couch, a glimmer of hope surfacing in his eyes as his gaze ignited with passion once more. *Isn't he just Sing-dog?* *I might as well go all out. What if I actually win? Wouldn't that put me in contention for the championship?!* "Contestant Number 00325, Wo Qu Chi Mantou." The referee's voice rang out. Mantou walked out of the competitors' tunnel with a resolute expression, waving toward the stands. *Hmph. This time, I'm going to show everyone my true strength!* *Rivaling pros with a mortal body! When the time comes, I'll edit my brilliant performance into a highlight reel and rake in a massive wave of fangirls. When the chat is spammed with 'Mantou-gege is so handsome,' won't that be sweet?* As the most renowned video creator on the Elezerg channel, Mantou enjoyed plenty of popularity, even if he didn't have many loyal fans. Most players treated him like a digital pet, watching him for laughs and using his videos as background entertainment during meals. "It's the old scoundrel Mantou!" "Holy crap? He made the top sixty-four too?" "*Sob sob sob*, this is probably Mantou's last match. Cherish it while you can!" "You old pigeon, hurry up and go back to editing videos! And stop slipping in your personal propaganda!" "The mountain king towers high, Mantou's Charisma is a five! The pagoda quells the river beast, Mantou's wild to say the least!" Cries echoed from the stands, though they were hardly the cheers of support Mantou had envisioned. He couldn't resist looking up and shouting back, "It's Charisma 9, hey! Stop spreading rumors!" Yet the players in the stands showed no restraint; if anything, they grew even more rowdy. "He's tilting!" "Triggered! So triggered!" "Mantou's overheating! Someone splash him with water to cool him down, or fetch him some iced pear tea!" "I know you're mad, but hold on a second. By the way, who's Mantou's opponent..." "..." *No, I can't let these hecklers distract me. They're all just haters.* Mantou adopted a solemn expression and stepped forward to his designated position. "Contestant Number 00005, Singo." The referee announced the blue side's name. Instantly, the arena erupted into another uproar. "Holy shit, God Singo?!" "Hahaha, now Mantou is definitely heading back to edit videos!" "Mantou: *Me against Singo?!*" "God Singo is magnificent, no further words needed!" "Sing-dog fanboys, tone it down. Making this much noise over stomping a noob?" "Fuck, Sing-dog is so damn lucky. Looks like we have to count on the players further down the bracket to snipe this bastard." "Damn it, don't let this guy actually take the championship, or his sycophants will be strutting everywhere." "What do you mean by that?!" Singo was a deeply polarizing figure. Those who supported him revered him as a god, viewing him as the guiding light of Elezerg, while his detractors detested him to the bone, considering him an utter bastard. Yet there was one point both sides agreed on: Singo was overwhelmingly powerful. Consequently, no one had any real suspense regarding the outcome of this match, and the live odds on Singo winning were as high as 23.00. Both competitors drew massive attention, and facing such a high-profile showdown, the commentator perked up. "On the red side is the famous content creator Wo Qu Chi Mantou. This player boasts over five hundred thousand followers on a certain video platform, and his content is exceptionally popular! "And on the blue side is the renowned strategy master and pro player, Singo! In the previous round, he just defeated Dadao, a player who had carried immense expectations... "Interestingly enough, both competitors are teammates in the same party, and both are Redscale Conquerors! "As the saying goes, 'Mirror matches aren't awkward; whoever sucks is the clown!' What kind of sparks will fly between them? Let us wait and see! "Match start!" With the referee's command, the two Redscale Conquerors urged their wyverns skyward at the same time. Mantou's strategy was simple: close-quarters combat! At range, he could never outplay Singo, who possessed the Archery Precision feat. He had to close the distance immediately and overwhelm the veteran with raw chaos. "Noodles, charge!" Mantou let out a fierce shout. The wyvern beneath him beat its wings and lunged straight toward Singo. "Heh... trying to close the gap on me?" Singo sneered, squeezing his thighs. The wyvern beneath him understood instantly, flapping its wings to soar higher and quickly seizing the high ground. Singo unhurriedly drew an arrow from the quiver on his back, nocking it to his bowstring. He drew his repeatedly refined Hunter Longbow to a full crescent, taking aim at Mantou's head from over a hundred meters away. *Holy shit?!* Mantou noticed the Hunter's Mark above his head. He was all too familiar with this ability. It not only tracked the target, but also dealt bonus damage. A single hit to the head would mean instant death! At that thought, Mantou leaned forward, gripped the reins tightly, and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Noodles, hard right!" *Whoosh—* A gleaming arrow sliced through the air, streaking straight for Mantou. Noodles flapped one wing harder, banking violently in midair. The arrow skimmed past the mount's flank, grazing its wing membrane by a hair's breadth. Just as Mantou thought he had dodged the attack— *Bang!* The arrowhead suddenly detonated, releasing a thick burst of venomous smoke that engulfed both Mantou and Noodles. *Dirty bastard...* "Cough, *hack*... Noodles, fly out!" *Roar—* Noodles let out an enraged hiss, flapping his wings with all his might before finally bursting out of the billowing smoke. However, his movements had become sluggish and weak. Mantou gritted his teeth, muttering, "No, we need the high ground to fight them... "Noodles, climb!" Though affected by the toxic gas, Noodles obeyed the command, beating his wings vigorously. While Mantou wasn't skilled with a bow, he wasn't without ranged options—he had bought a handgun from Zhandi Lunyiren. Mantou pulled the firearm from his waist pouch, quickly loaded the chamber, aimed at Singo in the distance, and pulled the trigger. *Times have changed, old man!* *Cold steel might be romantic, but I want to win!* *Bang!* *Bang!* *Bang!* Yet the distance was too great. Nor did Singo remain perched at the high ground as Mantou had anticipated. Instead, he entered a diving glide, circling Mantou at breakneck speed. He moved with astonishing swiftness, resembling a red gale as he rolled, banked, and spiraled, putting on what seemed like an aerobatic demonstration. It was difficult enough to track him with the naked eye, let alone land a shot. Having missed several shots in a row, Mantou grew exasperated, whereas Singo continued releasing arrows while flying at high speed. *Clang!* The crisp ring of metal clashing against metal rang out. An arrow struck Mantou square in the breastplate, nearly piercing clean through. Only the armor's formidable resilience saved his life. Yet several cracks spiderwebbed across the rare-grade chest piece. That spiral arrowhead was designed to destroy equipment! Mantou felt a sharp pang of heartache—that was rare-grade armor! Then, another strangely shaped arrow detonated in midair, unleashing a violent explosion that nearly threw Mantou off his mount's back. *Boom!* Another blast created a miniature mushroom cloud in the sky, anticipating Mantou's escape vector and almost engulfing both rider and mount. "Motherfucker..." Mantou couldn't help but roar in fury. His face had been blasted pitch-black, and his equipment was battered and torn. "Some improvement, but not much." In the distance, Singo pulled up and shook his head with a chuckle. Then, a spark of genuine fighting spirit flickered deep within his eyes. "Ending it like this would be a bit too dull." He murmured softly, "Let me see... what exactly is that reliance of yours?" Singo hovered on his wyvern, drew the longsword from his back, and pointed it at Mantou from afar. The intent was unmistakable. *A duel?* Originally, Mantou had been utterly helpless against Singo's infuriating kiting tactics. But now that Singo was offering him this opportunity, he might actually have a shot at winning! "If that's how you want it... "Then don't blame me for fighting dirty! Noodles, let's go! Dragon Roar Charge!" A passionate grin spread across Mantou's face. He clamped his legs tight, leaned his upper body down until he was practically pressed against the wyvern's torso, and tucked a nearly six-meter-long quiet steel lance firmly beneath his elbow. Its razor-sharp tip pierced the air, whipping up a fierce whistle. *Roar—* Noodles grasped Mantou's intent and let out a resounding bellow. He tucked in his wings, pulled back his forelimbs, and straightened his tail, forming a sleek, wind-cutting shape before diving from high altitude at blistering speed. Through countless charges, the coordination between Mantou and Noodles had been etched into their very bones and marrow. Like a plunging meteor, they hurtled directly toward Singo. *Swish—* Singo adopted a charging stance as well, steering his wyvern into a high-speed climb toward the sky. In merely a few breaths, the distance of several hundred meters collapsed to nothing. The two wyverns roared almost simultaneously, close enough that both riders could feel the scorching breath from each other's mounts. *Roar—!* Two nearly identical, colossal phantoms of red dragons manifested behind the two Redscale Conquerors, radiating boundless majesty. The clash was imminent! The spectators in the stands held their breath, watching the scene with bated excitement, while Cassius looked on with keen interest. *Slash—* A cold glint flashed, accompanied by a spray of blood. In that split second, Singo's wyvern executed a breathtaking barrel roll in midair, evading the thrusting lance. The moment the distance closed to less than two meters, Singo swung his longsword from an upward angle, cleanly severing Noodles's slender neck. Noodles's roar was cut short. His massive body parted from his head, tumbling downward through the sky. *The match is decided.* That thought crossed everyone's mind. By tradition, in a duel between Redscale Conquerors, the death of either mount signified the end of the bout. As the old saying went, "to shoot the rider, shoot the horse first." A knight stripped of his mount was utterly powerless to resist. Even the commentator spoke with surging emotion: "The match is drawing to a close! What a thrilling contest! Let us congratulate Singo in advance... Wait, what is that?!" A sudden shift occurred! From the back of the headless wyvern, Mantou threw down his reins and leaped up from the saddle. "If I can't win like this, then— "I reject my humanity, Sing-dog!" Scarlet scales suddenly erupted across Mantou's skin. Two massive wings tore out from his back, and a tail burst forth behind him. *Roar!* Flapping his wings in midair, Mantou barely stabilized his balance before lunging at Singo with bared fangs and outstretched claws. The commentator's voice turned utterly dumbfounded: "Heavens, Contestant Mantou has turned into a dragon! "This has never happened in any previous match! Is this Contestant Mantou's hidden trump card? "Incredible!" Up on the viewing platform, Tinia scratched her cheek in slight annoyance. She felt a strange familiarity with this power, yet couldn't quite put her finger on it... High above the arena, Singo watched the young dragon pouncing toward him, a smile spreading across his face as though everything remained well within his grasp. "Just as I thought... "Mantou, I saw through your trump card long ago!" Singo raised his right arm. A concealed wrist crossbow slid forward over his sleeve, loaded with a razor-sharp, cross-shaped bolt. An Arrow of Dragon Slaying! Such ammunition was strictly contraband within the Empire, but through his connections within the Southern Continent trading company, he had managed to purchase several from the Thrace region. Singo aimed squarely at the young dragon's chest and pulled the trigger without hesitation. *Whoosh—* The cross-shaped bolt tore straight through the scales over Mantou's chest, piercing into his heart. *Awoooo—!* The young dragon Mantou had transformed into let out a heart-wrenching howl before plummeting toward the ground below. Standing atop his wyvern, Singo looked down at the falling Mantou and said in a low voice, "Sorry, Mantou. You were played. There are no friends inside the arena. "Heh, after all... I collected intel on everything you had!"