Zhao Feichen lowered his voice. "What's being forged in that furnace is a top-tier item. Even for you, the success rate wouldn't be thirty percent, right? I'm having it. Even if he turns out to be an official Deacon, I'll pretend I didn't know."
"As long as you've thought it through!" Lian Sanyue gave a faint smile and rose lazily to her feet. Standing amidst the crowd, she announced clearly, "In my capacity as witness and guarantor, I will draw up a contract. Whoever violates it, I will deal with personally."
Once both sides nodded, she drew an ancient, yellowed parchment scroll from her inventory, unfurled it with a snap, and spoke:
"Rule 1: No skills or items at or above Level 6 may be used."
"Rule 2: Forfeiting is forbidden. By arena rules, life and death must be decided."
"Rule 3: No seeking outside assistance from spectators or third parties."
With every sentence she spoke, a rule materialized across the parchment, the characters squirming like tadpoles, indistinguishable as to which script they belonged to.
After stating the three rules, she looked toward Zhang Yuanqing and the middle-aged swordsman. "Come and sign it. A thumbprint will do."
The middle-aged swordsman strode forward, pressed his thumb at the bottom of the contract, and looked back, eyeing Zhang Yuanqing coldly.
Zhang Yuanqing stepped back up to Lian Sanyue and murmured, "Since you are his aunt, you should tell him who I really am!"
He did not press his thumbprint yet, attempting one last effort.
He could not casually reveal his own identity here—the crowd was a motley mix containing evil classes. If news of his presence here reached Saints or Dominators of the evil factions, it would bring endless trouble and danger. Besides, this was the capital, not Songhai; not being on his home turf called for caution above all.
"Why should I tell him?" Lian Sanyue exhaled a plume of white smoke.
*This woman...* Zhang Yuanqing scrutinized her for a few moments, suddenly gaining a much clearer impression of Li Chunfeng's description of her.
Lian Sanyue scoffed. "Everything I said outside went in one ear and out the other, didn't it? Believe me, even if you told him your identity, Zhao Feichen would rob you just the same."
*An arrogant, spoiled brat cleverly exploiting the rules and convincing himself he was in the right?* Zhang Yuanqing said nothing more and pressed his thumbprint onto the parchment.
Upon the worn, ancient parchment, the tadpole-like script lit up one by one. The two thumbprints appeared, hissing with wisps of white smoke. In the unseen realm, a mysterious force witnessed the contract; anyone who broke it would suffer severe punishment.
Lian Sanyue rolled up the parchment and looked toward her nephew nearby. "Give me the firestones."
Zhao Feichen reached out and swiped across the stall counter. Ten dark-red stones lined up in a neat row. With another sweep of her hand, Lian Sanyue collected them.
"To the arena, then." She looked around at the onlookers and said with a beaming smile, "Anyone wanting to watch, remember to buy a ticket. Two hundred thousand each."
With that, holding her cigar, her hips swaying alluringly, she left the canopy and headed toward the grounds behind the black market.
The three burly men maintaining order called out, "Please purchase your tickets over here!"
Instantly, a mad rush ensued. The shoppers browsing the black market were the first to dash toward the three bouncers, while stallholders quickly packed up their valuables and swarmed forward to buy tickets.
A life-and-death battle between Saint-stage combatants was a rare spectacle.
Forget two hundred thousand a ticket—even if the price doubled, they would gladly pay.
The life-and-death duels in the arena were usually fought by Transcendent walkers; Saints almost never took the stage.
*Two hundred thousand per ticket, and there are at least a hundred people here—that's close to twenty million? Shouldn't the combatants get a cut?* Listening to the commotion, Zhang Yuanqing silently marveled at how lucrative running a black market was.
No wonder Lian Sanyue had the capital to craft so many items.
Lian Sanyue swayed her hips with an exaggerated rhythm, yet walked slowly. By the time Zhang Yuanqing followed her to the arena, over a dozen Spirit Realm walkers had already bought their tickets and come rushing over excitedly.
Below the platform, experienced spectators kept more than ten meters away from the arena, watching from a safe distance.
As the crowd swelled, chatter erupted in a chaotic buzz.
"Proprietress, care to be the bookmaker? Let us have a flutter!"
"What is there to bet on? Zhao Feichen has this in the bag. His bodyguard is a Level 5 Swordsman. When it comes to close combat, Swordsmen easily rank in the top three. Plus, the Zhao family doesn't lack items. Once they patch up the Swordsman's weaknesses, tsk tsk, solid as a rock."
"What bull are you spewing? Didn't you hear earlier? That young man isn't lacking items either—otherwise, how could he toss so many into that furnace?"
"The kid's aura is clearly weaker than the Swordsman's. Besides, if he were truly a tough nut to crack, do you think the proprietress wouldn't have warned her nephew?"
"If you're bringing that up, let me clue you in. I heard Lian Sanyue has a terrible relationship with the Head of the Zhao Family. Don't ask why—I wouldn't know even if you did. But trust me, I'm a local."
Amid the clamor, Zhao Feichen had his arms around his two female companions, a sneer playing on his lips.
This aunt of his indeed had strained relations with the Zhao family, and her relationship with his grandfather was like fire and water.
In his father's words, she was born a rebel—willful and unyielding, refusing family orders and arrangements from childhood, living recklessly and free from constraint.
His grandfather, on the other hand, was an ultra-controlling patriarch who could never tolerate such a daughter.
Thus, things had turned completely sour.
Zhao Feichen was not close to this aunt; she had left the Zhao family when she was young, and they barely saw each other once a year, so what affection could there be?
Still, Wanbao House was a wonderful spot, and he often came here to gather intelligence, hunt for bargains, and trade items.
As his thoughts wandered, he saw the young man leap onto the spacious arena. He turned at once to the middle-aged swordsman beside him. "That kid probably carries several Saint-grade items. Before you go up, let me ask once more: do you lack any items? As long as I have it here, take whatever you need."
Caressing the longsword in his embrace, the middle-aged man shook his head slightly. "The few items I have are enough. You couldn't give me a top-tier item anyway. Besides, for a true swordsman, devotion to the blade is all that matters."
Zhao Feichen nodded slightly. "Go on, then."
Once the middle-aged swordsman leapt onto the platform, Zhao Feichen leaned down and whispered a few words to one of his companions.
The girl with the influencer face nodded, squeezed through the crowd, and trotted off.
Zhao Feichen watched her leave, then withdrew his gaze, a cold smile tugging at his lips.
Grandfather had taught him to always prepare two plans. Though he had absolute confidence in his bodyguard, he still had to consider the consequences and losses of defeat.
Even if this kid didn't die here in Wanbao House today, he shouldn't dream of walking out of the capital.
What he had whispered to the girl was just one brief line: *Go fetch my dad!*
Either way, when the time came, he would dump the matter on the elders and let them decide.
On the arena, Zhang Yuanqing and the middle-aged swordsman faced each other from over ten meters apart. Neither moved, yet their gazes locked onto one another, probing for openings and waiting to strike.
As Zhang Yuanqing held the standoff, he weighed his tactical options.
*His aura is stronger than mine—he should be Level 5. Getting into close quarters with him is extremely dangerous. Swordsmen are high-output, high-agility types, but their weaknesses are low physical defense and no recovery capabilities. Since he belongs to the Zhao family, he won't be short on items, so those weaknesses are definitely covered.*
*What I'm up against is an enemy boasting high output and agility, rounded out with defense and healing... If memory serves, a Swordsman's passive skills, Iron Will and Evil Bane, happen to counter possession by vengeful spirits... This won't be easy.*
*Sigh. Night Walkers are overwhelmingly dominant in the Transcendent stage, but upon reaching Starlord, at Level 4 at least, they actually feel weaker. Star Physiognomy and Star Escape are handy, but they can't directly attack an enemy...*
Suddenly, inspiration struck, and an ingenious use for Star Physiognomy crossed his mind.
He could formulate a battle plan using combinations of his items, then activate his Star Eyes to inspect the opponent's face. If the man's Misfortune Palace was shrouded in bloody light, it meant the plan was viable.
If not, he would revise the plan.
Theoretically, this train of thought was sound; perhaps this was the true way to utilize Star Physiognomy. As a class at the pinnacle of combat power, there was no reason for a Night Walker to be so sluggish in the Saint stage.
With that thought, Zhang Yuanqing opened his Star Eyes and scrutinized the middle-aged swordsman's countenance.
*He definitely has defensive and healing items. I'll first use the werewolf form to break his armor, then coordinate fire poison and curse items to suppress his recovery...* In his mind, he swiftly drew up a plan, rehearsing the steps.
Yet the middle-aged swordsman's physiognomy showed no change—dark clouds loomed, but without any sign of bloody disaster.
*Looks like mere wishful thinking won't cut it, but the general concept should be right. I'll test it as I fight.* Without hesitation, he engaged Night Walk, vanishing into thin air.
"A Night Walker?!" Surprised cries arose from around the arena.
The kid was from the Taiyi Sect? Instead of anger, Zhao Feichen felt a rush of delight. Compared to the massive size and influence of the Five Elements Alliance, the Taiyi Sect fell far short. Its Sect Master held himself in high esteem largely because Night Walkers were irreplaceable in many situations.
But that mattered to the Five Elements Alliance; to the Zhao family, as the popular saying went: *What use do I have for a Night Walker?*
He was not intimidated in the slightest.
*Clang!* The middle-aged swordsman drew his longsword. The blade gleamed crimson, uncharacteristic of forged steel, exuding a baleful, murderous aura capable of dispelling spirits and rattling the soul.
Having unsheathed it, he retreated swiftly and swung the sword in a horizontal sweep before him. A crescent of crimson sword qi whistled forth, sweeping across the entire arena.
A Level 5 Swordsman could unleash sword qi, allowing them to counter long-range attackers with ease—this was the greatest difference between Level 4 and Level 5.
With a sharp *clink*, a figure tumbled from the void, clutching a short blade in a parrying stance.
It was Zhang Yuanqing.
The short blade in his hand was a Transcendent-grade item gathered over recent days, and the sword qi had notched a gap right into its edge.
The middle-aged swordsman's gaze turned fierce. Just as he was about to thrust his sword forward to attack, the whistle of breaking wind sounded behind him.
*Another enemy? A yin corpse!* Understanding instantly, his heart tightened, and he slid to one side.
Yet right at that moment, the middle-aged swordsman saw the Night Walker kid wipe a hand across his face. A dot of gold paint flared between his brows, swiftly spreading across his entire visage to form a dignified, awe-inspiring opera mask.
His mind shuddered as fear and panic surged, making him forget to resist.
But in the next instant, those negative emotions dissolved away; the Swordsman's Iron Will carried him through the intimidation of the golden opera mask.
By now, the wind of the incoming attack was already bearing down on his head. With no time to dodge, he snatched out a clay figurine shaped from yellow earth.
*Thump!*
Blood Rose's pounce felt like slamming into a dense sandbag as rippling yellow light flared.
She was bounced back by the recoil, while the middle-aged swordsman did not budge an inch.
The middle-aged swordsman immediately put away the figurine, and with a flash of sword light, swept toward Blood Rose's neck. But she had already rolled aside in advance, evading the decapitating blow.
This was not Blood Rose anticipating the attack, but Zhang Yuanqing issuing the dodge command ahead of time.
*Sure enough, a defensive item from the Earth Monster class. I know the drawback of 'immobility' all too well...* Having baited out one item, Zhang Yuanqing's thoughts flickered, while Blood Rose was already being driven into perilous straits by the middle-aged swordsman.
Steady as a mountain, fierce as fire.
When confronting an enemy, a Swordsman rarely granted a breath of respite.
*Slash! Slash! Slash!*
The crimson longsword repeatedly carved bone-deep gashes into Blood Rose. Although a Bewitching Demon excelled at melee combat, the gulf in power between Blood Rose and a Level 5 Swordsman was simply too vast.
In barely three or four seconds, she was nearly decapitated several times.
And this was a yin corpse; a creature of flesh and blood would have suffered crippling wounds long ago.
It went to show that once a Level 4 Spirit Realm walker was caught at close range by a Level 5 Swordsman, life and death would be decided in dozens of seconds.
Cheering erupted below the platform.
Zhao Feichen wore a smug, self-satisfied grin.
The woman beside him cooed softly with praise like "So amazing!" and "Young Master, you've definitely won!", deepening Zhao Feichen's smile even further.
Zhang Yuanqing exhaled a breath of lunar energy. A torrent of yin qi quickly billowed forth, and amidst the churning gloom, a figure clad in a red bridal gown loomed into view, drifting toward the middle-aged swordsman.
The swordsman pulled back his blade and retreated, letting out a thunderous shout.
Having drifted behind him, the Ghost Bride's body froze, and immediately after, she was pierced through by the crimson longsword.
"Ahhh!"
The Ghost Bride let out a shriek, black smoke hissing from her form.
Against a Swordsman who excelled at slaughter and possessed the Evil Bane passive, a Level 4 resentful spirit was naturally outmatched. Zhang Yuanqing had foreseen this; summoning the Ghost Bride was merely to buy time.
A limp, triangular little red riding hood was tossed toward Blood Rose.
Blood Rose snatched it and placed it on her head. In the next second, her frame ballooned upward, ripping through her clothes, as needle-sharp golden fur sprouted across her snow-white skin.
Triangular ears grew from the top of her head, her lower face elongated, her pitch-black pupils transformed into golden beast eyes, and her hands and feet became canine-like, growing razor-sharp talons.
In an instant, Blood Rose turned into a four-meter-tall, golden-furred werewolf, scalding magma dripping from her fanged maw.
The Flame Demon Wolf!
"What is that?"
"A gu beast?"
"I've never heard of a wolf among gu beasts..."
Gasps rippled through the spectators below. Most were Transcendents, but there were also a handful of Saints with discerning eyes, and even practitioners of evil classes. Yet none of them had ever witnessed a werewolf.
Zhao Feichen narrowed his eyes, gently pushing aside the woman beside him, staring silently at the werewolf in the arena.
Even across a distance of over ten meters, the aura radiating from the monster still made him shiver with dread.
*Mutation? No, doesn't look like it. A beast form never seen before... what item is that?* Lian Sanyue scrutinized the werewolf, a look of profound fascination dawning on her face.
As an artificer, she harbored deep curiosity toward any unusual item.
While Blood Rose underwent the werewolf transformation, Zhang Yuanqing stood at the arena's edge, opening his Star Eyes to observe the middle-aged swordsman's countenance.
Dark clouds hung overhead, faintly laced with bloody light. *That shows the werewolf poses a genuine threat to him, but seemingly isn't enough to kill him...* With a clear grasp of the situation, Zhang Yuanqing immediately ordered the attack.
The Flame Demon Wolf was already itching for action. Its powerful, sinewy hind legs sank slightly; with a loud *crack*, the arena tiles shattered, and the towering silhouette blurred into an afterimage, lunging ferociously at the middle-aged swordsman.
Calm and unhurried, aided by his Insight technique, the swordsman had already mapped out the wolf's path. He slid to the left, evading the pounce with flawless precision, leveled his sword at his waist, and lunged forward.
The crimson blade sheared across the Flame Demon Wolf's thigh, carving a deep gash without hitting bone.
The werewolf's defense was astonishing; even a Swordsman skilled at armor piercing could only slice through the flesh.
As they brushed past each other, the middle-aged swordsman glanced toward the enemy standing at the edge of the platform. Once he confirmed it was not an illusion, he spun around swiftly and slashed out a crescent of crimson sword qi.
The sword qi crossed several meters and struck the turning wolf, leaving another deep wound.
The Flame Demon Wolf let out an enraged snarl, its belly expanding before its jaws snapped open, spewing a jet of fire mixed with magma that instantly engulfed the swordsman.
Yet in the next second, the swordsman reappeared on the opposite flank.
How could such a telegraphed attack ever hit a Swordsman?
In the moments that followed, the middle-aged swordsman nimbly ducked and weaved. Though on the defensive and spending most of his time dodging, lacking his earlier momentum, the Flame Demon Wolf's strikes missed time and again.
The agility that werewolves prided themselves on offered zero advantage against a Swordsman proficient in melee and armed with Insight.
Instead, weaving between dodges, the swordsman consistently found windows to stab and slash, steadily racking up wounds on the wolf's body.
Bit by bit, he wore down the beast.
Below the stage, Zhao Feichen breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled his female companion back into his arms, caressing the young woman's voluptuous curves as he enjoyed the duel above.
Watching from the side for a long while, Zhang Yuanqing took in the strengths and weaknesses of both sides.
*With the werewolf's offensive power, smashing through his defensive item won't be difficult. But he must be brought to a halt and forced to deploy that defensive item. The wolf has speed and agility, yet can't pin him down. If I want to force his hand, I have to step in myself...*
*First, I trade an injury to make him bleed, then coordinate with the demon wolf's attack to force him to use the defensive item, and after that...* Combining his own items and skills, Zhang Yuanqing rapidly devised an execution plan.
Once his thoughts clicked into place, still maintaining his Star Eyes, he saw a thick shroud of bloody light gathering between the swordsman's eyes.
*It works!* He was ecstatic—not only had he found the way to vanquish his foe, but he had also validated his practical application of Star Physiognomy.
Promptly, he cast an illusion, leaving a phantom in place while quietly slipping into Night Walk to conceal his presence.
The middle-aged swordsman, who had kept part of his attention on Zhang Yuanqing all along, grew alert immediately. Iron Will paired with Insight was the perfect counter to illusions.
He swung his sword behind him, sending a crescent arc sweeping across the stage in an attempt to flush the Starlord out.
However, the sword qi blasted past the edge of the arena, whistling over the heads of the crowd below before dissipating dozens of meters away.
It struck nothing at all.
Almost in the very next second, sporting a pair of logoless black sneakers and wearing the yellow opera mask, Zhang Yuanqing materialized behind him, thrusting the short blade toward the swordsman's heart.
*How did he dodge the sword qi? And what terrifying speed!* The swordsman's pupils shrank violently.
Insight could foresee moves, but it could not detect an invisible foe.
Furthermore, the burst of speed this Starlord displayed once close rivaled that of a Bewitching Demon of the same rank.
Parrying, dodging, or countering was already out of the question; all the swordsman could do in that split second was twist his torso aside to protect his heart.
*Squelch!*
The blade sank cleanly into the middle-aged swordsman's flesh.
Intense agony made the swordsman's hair stand on end. Bolstered by his Iron Will, he swiftly suppressed the pain and remained calm, intending to seize this rare close-quarters opportunity to strike back at the Starlord—to teach him what folly it was to ambush a Swordsman at point-blank range.
But right then, he saw the demon wolf open its jaws, raging flames surging deep within its throat.
Out of options, he could only retrieve the clay figurine from his inventory to protect himself.
Meanwhile, Zhang Yuanqing dissolved into a dreamlike shimmer of starlight and escaped, evading the fiery blast. Even if he hadn't dodged, it wouldn't have mattered; protected by the Unyielding Heart Guard Mirror, the demon wolf's flames could not harm him in the slightest.
But he needed to preserve the blood on his blade.
Fire mingled with magma engulfed the middle-aged swordsman. Scorching heat licked against the barrier, turning the earth-element energy shield glowing red and translucent. Yet according to the five elements, fire engenders earth, giving earth energy immense fire resistance.
*The werewolf's breath can only last three seconds...* Having seen this trick before, the swordsman did not panic, quietly waiting for his chance.
Three seconds passed in a flash. Just as he was about to stow the clay figurine and counterattack, he saw the Starlord draw an ugly puppet from his inventory, smear the blood from the blade onto it with a fingertip, and bark:
"Die!"
Curse-killing technique!
Darkness fell before the swordsman's eyes as blood seeped from all seven orifices, his soul feeling torn to shreds.
He was severely wounded in an instant, though fortunately the curse's rank was not high enough to kill a Level 5 Swordsman outright.
Still, this left him terrified to drop the figurine. Rooted to the spot, he struggled to lift his heavy arm, pulling out a coat woven of green vines from his inventory and draping it slowly over his shoulders.
An emerald glow enveloped him, rapidly mending his injuries.
Seizing this opening, the Flame Demon Wolf splayed its talons, slashing blow after blow against the glowing red shield. Under the rapid-fire clawing, the earth-element energy barrier, still uncooled, softened into a molten state like red-hot, melting glass.
At last, with a sickening crunch, the barrier shattered, and the clay figurine in the swordsman's hand cracked.
*Rip!*
The werewolf's talons tore savagely across the swordsman's chest and belly, rending flesh from bone.
"Aaargh!"
The middle-aged swordsman let out a blood-curdling shriek as his skin flushed crimson all over and his muscles convulsed.
Fire poison had invaded his body!
His wounds, already far from healed, were driven into an even direr plight.
Possessing the Iron Will passive, he still managed to prevent agony from overwhelming his sanity. Swiftly retrieving a black iron mask shaped like a fiend, he pressed it over his face and blew hard.
In an instant, dense fog flooded the entire arena, obliterating all visibility.
"A Mist Lord?"
"We can't see a thing now. Tsk, but anyone could guess he wants to stall for time in the fog to heal."
"Looks like it's still anyone's game. Just a moment ago, I thought the Starlord was a sure winner."
"Yeah, that kid spectated for the entire first half, but when he finally made a move, he nearly ended the fight on the spot. He's quite something. The Taiyi Sect actually has talent like that?"
Amid the chattering crowd, Zhao Feichen let out a breath of relief, his tense nerves finally relaxing.
It was common knowledge that among the indigenous classes, only a Dominator-rank Rain Master could counter a Mist Lord.
Any other class was utterly helpless against the dense fog.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, a howling screech erupted, followed immediately by a violent gale sweeping across the platform.
The fog, both wispy as gauze and thick as syrup, was torn to shreds and blown away by the tempest.
On the stage, the figures of the two men and the wolf were revealed once more.
Without a shred of hesitation, wearing his Gale Gloves, Zhang Yuanqing swung his hands, sending two wind blades toward the middle-aged man whose skin was flushed red, whose seven orifices bled, and whose aura had withered to the extreme.
At the same time, he ordered the demon wolf to ready its fire breath.
*Clang! Clang!*
Fighting like a cornered beast, the swordsman shattered the wind blades.
But by then, the Flame Demon Wolf had opened its maw, and the flames churning with magma engulfed the middle-aged man.
Three seconds later, the blaze subsided, leaving only a charred corpse in its wake.
Chapter 377