Zhao Yuanchong Versus Zhao Wen

"Next match."

The black-robed steward's voice rang out.

"Zhao Yuanchong versus Zhao Wen."

The arena fell silent in an instant.

Zhao Wen emerged from the shadows on the west side. His face was pale, dark circles ringed his eyes, and his steps were unsteady, yet his eyes shone with a terrifying brightness.

Zhao Yuanchong strode onto the platform. He wore a dark martial outfit embroidered with a silver wolf's head, and an ancient sword hung at his waist. His gaze fell on Zhao Wen, and the mocking smile on his face faded a little.

"You've held on longer than I expected," Zhao Yuanchong said. "Calamity Star."

Zhao Wen said nothing. He stared fixedly at him, but the rise and fall of his chest betrayed the turmoil within.

"Too bad," Zhao Yuanchong said, slowly drawing his sword. "What's forged in the flames of disaster brings calamity, not fortune."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Zhao Wen moved.

Without warning, he shot forward like a taut bowstring suddenly released! His hands curled into claws, his fingertips taking on a dark, bluish hue. They tore through the air with a shrill whistle as he lunged straight for Zhao Yuanchong's face!

Too fast!

A wave of gasps swept through the audience.

Zhao Yuanchong's pupils contracted. He swiftly retreated, raising his long sword to block.

"Clang!"

Claws clashed with sword, ringing out like striking iron. Zhao Wen was knocked half a step back, the web of his thumb splitting as beads of blood sprayed out. But the madness in his eyes only intensified, and with a hoarse roar, he lunged at Zhao Yuanchong again!

Zhao Wen had completely abandoned defense. He only attacked, never guarded, each claw aimed at a vital point. He was fighting to take his opponent down with him!

Zhao Yuanchong frowned. His swordsmanship was steady and his moves exquisite; every time, he managed to intercept Zhao Wen's attacks and leave a wound on him. But Zhao Wen seemed not to feel pain. The more blood he lost, the fiercer his attacks became, and the brighter his eyes shone. A madness on the verge of collapse lurked in that light.

This wasn't a martial contest.

It was a beast's last desperate counterattack!

Blood kept spraying across the platform. Zhao Wen had already suffered seven or eight wounds, the deepest on his left shoulder, where the cut went down to the bone. Yet his movements hadn't slowed. If anything, they'd grown faster and more vicious.

Zhao Yuanchong's expression darkened.

He could feel the frenzied, destructive aura within Zhao Wen surging wildly under the stimulus of blood, growing stronger and more unstable by the moment.

He couldn't let this drag on.

His gaze sharpened, and his sword stance changed abruptly.

He stopped dodging and weaving. His long sword became a streak of black light, thrusting straight toward Zhao Wen's heart! The strike gathered all his strength, as fast as lightning and as vicious as a venomous dragon.

Zhao Wen didn't even try to dodge!

With a roar, he reached for the blade with his left hand. His five fingers clamped around it like iron pincers, the flesh splitting instantly as his knuckles scraped against the steel with a grating sound. At the same time, he joined the fingers of his right hand into a spear and thrust toward Zhao Yuanchong's throat with grim resolve!

Trading wound for wound, life for life!

Zhao Yuanchong seemed to have expected this. His left hand shot out like lightning and seized Zhao Wen's right wrist, his fingers tightening.

"Crack."

The wrist bone shattered.

Zhao Wen's body shook violently, yet a twisted smile spread across his face. His left hand clamped around the blade, and he suddenly shoved forward!

The tip of the sword pierced another fraction deeper.

But as they fought, the distance between them rapidly closed. Suddenly, Zhao Wen turned his head and opened his mouth, viciously snapping at Zhao Yuanchong's neck!

Zhao Yuanchong wasn't about to let him succeed. He jerked his neck back and dodged.

Zhao Wen's bite missed, but his momentum carried him onward. His bone-white teeth slid down and, with a sharp crack, sank into Zhao Yuanchong's shoulder!

Flesh tore, and blood gushed out instantly.

Zhao Yuanchong grunted. The pain sent a murderous glint flaring in his eyes. His left hand clamped around the back of Zhao Wen's neck like an iron pincer, holding him fast so he couldn't wrench free, while his right hand shot out like lightning and seized Zhao Wen by the throat, his five fingers tightening abruptly!

"Ugh...!"

The bones in Zhao Wen's throat groaned under the crushing pressure, and his face quickly flushed red as he choked.

Zhao Yuanchong gave him no more chances.

He twisted his wrist sharply.

"Crack."

After the sharp snap, the struggle stopped.

The light in Zhao Wen's eyes went out, and his body slumped limply. Only his left hand, still clamped around the blade, remained clenched.

At the very moment his breath ceased,

the Samsara Mirror within Li Tui suddenly shuddered!

A point of icy light burst forth from the depths of his sea of consciousness.

He "saw" it.

In the reflection of the Mirror's consciousness, above Zhao Wen's corpse, a phantom shaped like a shattered battle halberd wailed as it disintegrated.

At the same time, a deep crimson phantom appeared over Zhao Yuanchong's chest, cold and shaped like a crouching Lone Wolf. It suddenly opened its eyes!

The crimson Lone Wolf phantom reached out, opened its enormous, formless maw, and sucked hard at the disintegrating scarlet battle halberd.

The dispersing Army Breaker starforce was forcibly dragged apart and torn to pieces, turning into streams of scarlet light that poured ceaselessly into the wolf's maw.

Devouring!

Sheer, undisguised devouring!

The vision lasted only an instant before abruptly vanishing.

Li Tui shuddered all over, his consciousness snapping back to the real arena. Cold sweat soaked through his inner shirt, and his limbs turned icy.

He looked back at the platform.

Zhao Yuanchong swayed slightly. A flush of unnatural red crossed his face before giving way to an even deeper pallor. In his eyes, something seemed to have been thoroughly kindled; coldness and greed had nearly become tangible.

He slowly withdrew his long sword, drawing out a trail of blood droplets. Then he bent down and pried Zhao Wen's fingers off the blade, one by one, slowly but firmly.

He turned and walked off the platform. His steps were steadier than before, but an unseen shadow cloaked his back.

The black-robed steward paused, then called out loudly, "Zhao Yuanchong wins."

After a moment of silence, subdued murmurs erupted from the audience.

Zhao Yuanchong paid them no mind and walked straight into the shadows. On the platform, servants came up to clear away the mess. They wrapped Zhao Wen's corpse in a straw mat and washed away the blood.

On the viewing platform, House Zhao's head, Zhao Shengshan, sat upright, his gaze fixed on the arena.

When Zhao Yuanchong withdrew his sword and turned away, his figure disappearing into the shadows, Zhao Shengshan's expression remained calm.

But his slight lean into the back of his chair and his subtly relaxed shoulders betrayed his satisfaction.