Li Tui's Resolve

The next day, the sky was dim with dawn.

When Li Tui arrived at the Martial Arts Arena, the stands were already packed. No one spoke. In the dead silence, only strained breathing could be heard. He stood in the shadow by the edge, his back against a cold stone pillar, one hand pressed to his chest. The Blood Bodhi had been pounding since last night, making his throat taste sweet with blood.

At the stroke of the Chen hour, the bell shattered the silence.

The black-robed deacon stepped onto the platform. "The final match: Zhao Yuanchong versus Zhao Hao."

From the east, Zhao Yuanchong walked onto the platform at an unhurried pace. His dark-red martial uniform stood out beneath the bleak daylight, the golden wolf's head embroidered at the cuffs catching the eye. He did not walk quickly, yet every step landed with such weight it seemed he meant to crush the bluestone beneath his feet.

From the west, Zhao Hao stepped onto the platform almost at the same time. He wore a dark-gray fitted outfit, its cuffs tightly bound, and a long sword hung at his waist. His expression was calm.

The two men took their places in the center of the ring, three zhang apart.

No words. No exchanged glances.

The second bell crashed down.

Zhao Yuanchong moved.

He didn't lunge. He "ground forward." His dark-red figure leaned into motion, and the entire platform seemed to tremble. A savage, overbearing pressure, solid as a tide, crashed toward his opponent!

A few sharp gasps rose from below.

Zhao Hao didn't retreat. He slid his right foot half a step back, lowered his stance, and drew his long sword with a ringing shing! Its light was dim, without any flourish, but the instant its edge rose, a murderous intent as solid as iron burst forth, forcibly holding back the surging pressure.

Clang!!!

Their first clash was as muffled as two giant timbers colliding, and the impact numbed everyone's chest.

Sparks burst. Zhao Yuanchong's sword strikes were heavy, each wrapped in the dull thunder of wind and lightning, as if he meant to hack and grind everything before him to pieces. Zhao Hao's sword, however, followed a sinister path. Its light flickered like a venomous snake darting out its tongue, seeking the throat, heart, and joints—every fatal opening.

From the very first exchange, they fought as if their lives were on the line.

Zhao Yuanchong's attacks grew more and more ferocious. Within three feet of him, the air turned thick and scorching. The disciples nearby felt their skin burn and struggled to breathe. The dark flame in his eyes blazed ever higher, and the greed in his swordplay almost took on a physical form.

Zhao Hao, meanwhile, was like a reef soaked in blood. Let the raging waves crash against me; I'll remain unshaken.

A web of cracks spread across the bluestone ring.

Wounds rapidly accumulated on both men. Zhao Yuanchong's left shoulder was pierced, blood soaking half his body. Zhao Hao took a heavy blow to the waist, his flesh torn and curling back. Every time he dodged, droplets of blood flew from him.

Neither man retreated.

The stands were deathly silent. Every eye was wide, afraid to blink.

At that moment, the Blood Bodhi in Li Tui's chest throbbed as if it were about to explode. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stand steady, his gaze fixed on the center of the ring.

On the platform, a low growl suddenly rolled from Zhao Yuanchong's throat.

It sounded nothing like a human voice, more like that of a wounded beast. Dark-red energy surged around him, and the savage pressure instantly doubled! The broad sword in his hands hummed and trembled. The faint outline of a Lone Wolf appeared along its blade, fangs bared, poised to pounce!

Zhao Hao's pupils contracted sharply. He abruptly withdrew his sword to guard, gripping its hilt with both hands. The tip pointed toward the ground, and his entire body was like a bow drawn to its limit.

A gray mist, carrying the stench of rust and blood, steamed up around him. Above his head, it faintly outlined a shattered battle halberd. Though indistinct, it radiated a desperate, murderous resolve that would rather shatter than bend!

The instant their two auras collided—

Boom!!!

An invisible gale exploded from the ring! The disciples nearby were swept off their feet by the shock wave, their cries of alarm and pain tangling together. The stone lantern pillars at the edge of the ring snapped in half, and broken stone flew everywhere!

The shock wave slammed Li Tui against the stone pillar. His organs seemed to shift out of place, and blood surged into his throat, but he forced it back down. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the heart of the storm.

There, space seemed to warp ever so slightly. He "saw" the Lone Wolf phantom above Zhao Yuanchong suddenly pounce, savagely biting into the shattered-spear phantom above Zhao Hao! There was no sound, yet the two phantoms' struggle stirred a hunger deep within the Samsara Mirror in his sea of consciousness?!

Devour! Resist! Crush!

The Lone Wolf clamped down on the spear shaft and shook its head wildly, tearing at it; though broken, the Residual Spear burst with astonishing sharpness and stabbed back into the wolf's belly!

And at the very moment the sources of their Star Fate clashed fiercely, when both men's minds and strength had been drawn to their peak, when every hidden gaze was fixed on them most intently...

The hairs on the back of Li Tui's neck stood on end.

It wasn't his imagination.

He whipped his head around, his gaze scraping like a blade toward the corner of the stands on his right, where the crowd was thickest and the light dimmest. Just moments ago, when the shock wave had erupted and debris had flown, everyone had instinctively hunched, shut their eyes, or raised a hand to shield themselves.

A short, stooped figure slipped out from there like a faded ghost.

The man wore a drab servant's tunic and an old felt hat, its brim pulled low over most of his face. Blending in among several panicked branch-family disciples climbing up from the ground, he was utterly unremarkable.

He even seemed to stumble as the shock wave shoved him, taking a few unsteady steps in Li Tui's direction.

His movements were so natural he could have been an innocent bystander caught in the blast.

But Li Tui saw him.

He saw the icy glance that flashed beneath the hat's shadow as the man lowered his head—the look of a venomous snake fixing its eyes on a frog.

Thirty paces... twenty-five... twenty...

The closer he came, the more violently the heat and agitation in Li Tui's chest flared. The lump of flesh throbbed as if it would shatter his ribs. It was the excitement and hunger of encountering one's own kind—or one's prey.

Old Ghost had indeed come.

He wasn't watching from afar, or testing the waters. He meant to seize this once-in-a-lifetime chaos, while the two men on the platform drew everyone's attention, to enter the fray himself, fight at close quarters, and snatch the treasure in one stroke!

And this was precisely the opportunity the heretic cultivator had been waiting for. It was probably also one part of Zhao Hao's plan: to have Li Tui "make a commotion" and draw away some of their attention.

Zhao Hao wanted a sliver of hope.

The heretic cultivator wanted to seize the treasure in the chaos.

And Li Tui...

His left hand rested against his chest, his five fingers slowly curling into a fist. His knuckles whitened with the strain, his nails nearly piercing his clothes and sinking into his flesh. Beneath his palm, the scorching pulse shuddered with something almost like pleasure.

He could "hear" the Blood Bodhi's vague but intense craving. A craving for chaos, for collision, for...devouring.

A plan so insane it chilled his blood took shape completely in that instant.

He stopped looking at the gray figure drawing closer and turned his gaze back to the center of the ring, back to the two Star Fate phantoms still locked in a savage struggle.

His lips moved soundlessly.

Then he drew a deep breath of air thick with dust and blood. Gathering every last trace of his true qi together with the explosive energy of the Blood Bodhi surging in his chest, he forced it all down toward his dantian, then without holding anything back, fiercely "pushed" it toward the scorching foreign object in his chest!