Fanned by sensational coverage across the media and news outlets, many residents of the Great Shun settlement hoped Gui Zihan would accept the duel. Chen Chuan's unyielding stance had sent their morale soaring, and they refused to be stomped back down into the dirt.
Conversely, Great Shun's corporations and civic organizations maintained a cautious, wait-and-see posture. They did not actually want this duel to take place; winning would bring them no greater advantages than they already enjoyed, only deeper hostility. And if he lost, the hard-won achievements and prestige gained so far would be squandered for nothing.
Thus, after some deliberation, they dispatched several representatives to sound out Gui Zihan. If Gui Zihan was reluctant, they would do their utmost to urge caution and dissuade him, providing him with a graceful way out while mounting a public defense on his behalf in newspapers and media. It would not matter if he declined to step up; once Chen Chuan returned, dealing with that "Madman" would surely be no trouble at all.
Upon arriving, the representatives quickly met with Gui Zihan. Someone had only tentatively broached the subject when Gui Zihan replied directly, "I will accept the challenge."
The representatives exchanged glances, each discerning a flicker of unease and worry in the other's eyes.
Could this Team Leader Gui actually pull it off?
After all, Team Leader Gui had no notable battle record to his name, nor had anyone seen him cross hands or spar with anyone. They truly had no way to judge his fighting prowess.
Lodewijk the Madman, however, was a long-established martial artist. One had only to look at everything he had done in the past without anyone managing to stop him to know how formidable his martial might was.
Still, now that Gui Zihan had accepted the fight, they had to drum up momentum for him; at the very least, they could not let the settlement's newly raised spirits falter.
Once outside, one representative murmured, "If only Section Chief Chen were here."
The others nodded in agreement.
As long as Section Chief Chen was around, even if he did not step in personally, their hearts would be at ease. But with Section Chief Chen away, none of them felt any sense of certainty.
"Let's place our faith in Mr. Gui," another representative said. "Since Mr. Gui agreed, he must be confident, right? Let's head back and find a way to gather all the intelligence we can on the Madman and hand it over to him as soon as possible."
The remaining representatives nodded. This was the Federation; as long as one could afford the price, any intelligence could be purchased, especially regarding someone who had been as notoriously active as the "Madman."
After a brief discussion, they dispersed to make the announcement.
Gui Zihan's acceptance immediately sparked heated debate across Center City. The public erupted in near jubilation; it had been a very long time since Vea State had seen a clash between martial artists, and everyone eagerly anticipated a duel of the highest caliber.
Clashes between martial artists certainly did happen, but given their station, martial artists belonged squarely to the ruling stratum. Even when sparring took place, they did not parade themselves before the masses like arena fighters, keeping to private, small-scale duels behind closed doors.
Furthermore, even if a duel were held publicly, it required special biological fields on site to capture and project the combat, an ability standard biological equipment simply lacked. Even if ordinary citizens managed to watch on field screens, the footage had to be slowed down in post-processing; normal human eyes could not track such blinding speed, which meant most people were never meant to witness it live.
At that moment, Chen Chuan was aboard the train bound for Serranocha State. Gui Zihan had telegraphed him prior to accepting the duel.
Chen Chuan had no intention of interfering with Gui Zihan's choice. In his absence, Gui Zihan was in charge of the delegation, and when a martial artist was challenged to a duel, they possessed every right to decide their own course of action.
He glanced at the time noted on the telegram. Three days later? That was roughly when he would arrive in Serranocha; he was confident the outcome would be decided by then.
Inside the hotel room, Gui Zihan sat quietly before the manual of sword techniques.
After a while, a page turned on its own. About an hour later, another page flipped over. One could see that a third of the slender, thread-bound manual had already been turned.
He had seen the contents of this manual back in his martial sect; although some phrasings differed, they were largely the same. What made this thread-bound volume truly precious was the spiritual will of generations of sect forebears embedded within it.
These wills could not directly impart knowledge or power to him. Quite the contrary—each predecessor's spirit was exceptionally sharp, and reading the pages was akin to crossing swords with past masters wielding razor-edged blades.
Consequently, each time a page turned, it trembled faintly. The spiritual will clung to every single stroke of the calligraphy; he had to contend against it without destroying the delicate paper, which greatly heightened the difficulty of reading.
Yet with each page turned, as the written content sank into his heart, his own spirit grew purer and more refined. Insights long settled in the depths of his mind surged to the surface, coalescing into something entirely new.
For two full days, he sat there turning the pages of the manual. By the third day, only a few pages remained unturned. He did not continue, however, but simply sat adjusting his breathing and nurturing his spirit.
Before long, a notification chime sounded from his boundary credential.
The moment the sound rang out, he brought his meditation to a close. Standing up, he took his ancient sword in hand and walked out.
The delegation members were waiting outside. They immediately sensed something subtly different about him.
Where he had once exuded an aloof, unapproachable aura, he now appeared entirely harmless, like any ordinary youth in his twenties. Walking down the street, normal people would hardly notice anything remarkable about him.
Yet to third limit fighters like Yuan Qiuyuan and Wei Dong, the impression was starkly different: today, he radiated an exceptionally perilous threat.
The delegation's liaison officer stepped forward, saluting him. "Team Leader Gui, there is an hour left. Shall we set out now?"
Gui Zihan nodded. Exiting the hotel, he boarded a dedicated vehicle and departed toward the city outskirts.
Lodewijk did not trust the martial artists of Vea State; there was no guarantee they wouldn't try something underhanded while he was dueling. Therefore, he had chosen Qiyuan Lake, located outside the city, as the duel's venue.
Even so, given the rare spectacle of a duel between martial artists, several airships equipped with advanced biological field equipment had arrived overhead in advance, preparing to broadcast the clash to the populace in the city.
Furthermore, crowds of overly excited spectators had flocked to both shores of the lake. Doing so was extraordinarily dangerous: martial artists moved across vast distances at tremendous speeds, and once they clashed, nowhere nearby could be considered safe.
However, Center City of Vea State had no obligation to protect these spectators, so after issuing a brief warning, authorities simply ignored them.
Just as the appointed hour arrived, the car pulled up to the shores of Qiyuan Lake. Gui Zihan pushed open the door and stepped out.
Lodewijk had long been waiting. Squatting atop a shattered stone pillar, he eyed Gui Zihan with malicious intent.
A grin split his face. Suddenly, he raised a hand toward the direction Gui Zihan had approached from. A bright gleam flared at his fingertips, and a spiritual impact shot past Gui Zihan with a whoosh, rocketing straight toward the airship hovering high behind him.
The beam grazed the bottom of the hull, violently rocking the vessel twice. Cold sweat instantly drenched the pilot's back.
That spiritual impact had come within a hair's breadth of blasting the airship out of the sky. He had sensed something amiss a split second before, his instincts kicking in faster than conscious thought to veer the airship aside; had he hesitated, they would have been shot down.
"Is he insane?!" the pilot blurted out.
This was a Center City airship of Vea State! What was more, this was taking place right before the eyes of Vea State's administrators. If the airship were destroyed, they would never tolerate his arrogance, and the city's high-tier law enforcement would be deployed immediately.
Spectators inside and outside the city let out collective gasps at the sight. Someone muttered, "He really is mad..."
The martial artists observing the spectacle also agreed that Lodewijk lived up to his moniker. Opening with a spiritual impact that was not even aimed at his opponent was utterly pointless, serving no purpose other than wasting energy and showing off.
Gui Zihan remained entirely unmoved. When the spiritual impact streaked past, his gaze did not waver in the slightest as he walked toward his opponent step by step.
Watching him draw nearer, Lodewijk's grin warped into an exaggerated sneer, his face suddenly twisting into something frenzied and sinister as if the mutated tissue across his visage was undergoing a bizarre shift.
He stood up, spreading his arms wide and flapping them up and down, the muscles along his limbs rippling like undulating waves as a low chant slipped from his mouth:
"Come... come—"
As the sound drifted from his lips, ripples spread across the nearby lake surface, and echoes rolled over the wilderness. Everyone who heard it felt their whole body go numb and tingling, as though their consciousness was being tugged into the sky, before collapsing in swaths across the ground.
Witnessing this, Lodewijk's eyes gleamed with an even more manic excitement. Arms outstretched, he spun in circles where he stood.
This madness was intimately tied to his power; the more deranged he became, the greater the combat prowess he could unleash.
By now, Gui Zihan had reached the space before him, halting at an appropriate distance.
Lodewijk spun to face him, glaring with eyes drenched in malice.
Gui Zihan slowly rested his hand on his sword hilt and said, "I am not Section Chief Chen. I do not grant my opponents the luxury of making a move."
Lodewijk's eyes narrowed. At that precise moment, he felt as though something had flashed before him, yet everything seemed entirely unchanged.
Gui Zihan lowered his hand from the hilt, turned around, and walked away.
The nearby lake mirrored the silhouettes of both men. Gui Zihan could be seen walking farther and farther away, while Lodewijk remained rooted to the spot, motionless.
The onlookers were utterly bewildered, confusion written across their faces. What was going on? Had the duel been called off? Or had Gui Zihan conceded? What had just happened?
Yet when Gui Zihan had walked some distance away, a faint crack echoed through the air, like something brittle fracturing.
In the very next instant, Lodewijk's body suddenly shattered into countless tiny fragments, collapsing to the ground with a loud clatter.
Chapter 1124