Li Tui's Decision

The next day, the sky was a hazy gray.

When Li Tui arrived at the Martial Arts Arena, the stands were already packed. No one spoke; in the deathly silence, only suppressed breathing could be heard. He stood in the shadows along the edge, his back against a cold stone pillar, his hand pressed firmly against his chest. The Blood Bodhi had been pulsing since last night, knocking against his ribs until his throat tasted of sweetness.

At the hour of the dragon, the bell tore through the silence.

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

On the east side, Zhao Yuanchong walked slowly onto the stage. His dark red martial arts uniform and the golden-threaded wolf head at his cuffs were striking under the bleak light. He did not walk fast, yet every step was so heavy it seemed as if he would crush the bluestone slabs.

On the west side, Zhao Hao ascended the stage almost simultaneously. He wore a deep gray training suit with tight cuffs, a long sword at his waist, and his expression was calm.

The two stood still in the center of the ring, three zhang apart.

There was no idle talk, no locking of eyes.

The second bell toll crashed down.

Zhao Yuanchong moved.

It was not a pounce, but a "grind." As his dark red figure leaned forward, the entire ring seemed to tremble, and a savage, overbearing pressure like a tangible tide roared toward his opponent!

A sharp intake of breath sounded from beneath the stage.

Zhao Hao did not retreat. He pulled his right foot back half a step, lowered his stance, and his long sword left its sheath with a metallic "clink!" The sword light was dim and unadorned, but the moment the blade was raised, a heavy, iron-like killing intent erupted, forcibly holding back the overwhelming pressure.

"Clang!!!"

The first collision was as dull as the impact of giant timbers, vibrating through everyone's chests until they went numb.

Sparks exploded. Zhao Yuanchong's sword momentum was heavy, each strike wrapped in the muffled roar of wind and thunder, as if he meant to shatter and crush everything before him; Zhao Hao's sword, however, followed a sinister path, the blade light like a viper flicking its tongue, drilling specifically for fatal spots like the throat, heart, and joints.

From the moment they clashed, it was a fight to the death.

Zhao Yuanchong's offensive grew increasingly violent, the air within three feet of him becoming viscous and scorching. Disciples standing nearby felt their skin burn and found it difficult to breathe. The dark fire in his eyes burned brighter and brighter, and the greed within his sword momentum was almost becoming tangible.

Zhao Hao, however, was like a reef soaked in blood. Let the violent waves crash against the shore; he remained unmoved.

Spiderweb cracks bloomed across the bluestone ring.

Wounds rapidly accumulated on both their bodies. Zhao Yuanchong's left shoulder was pierced, blood staining half his body red. Zhao Hao suffered a heavy slash to his waist, the flesh curling outward, and blood droplets flew every time he shifted his position.

Neither retreated.

The crowd below was deathly silent, all eyes wide, not daring to blink.

At this moment, the Blood Bodhi in Li Tui's chest was pulsing so fast it felt like it would explode. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand steady, his gaze locked firmly on the center of the ring.

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

It did not sound human, but rather like a wounded beast. The dark red aura around him surged violently, and that savage, overbearing pressure instantly doubled! The broadsword in his hand hummed and vibrated, and a faint phantom of a lone wolf appeared above the blade, fangs bared, poised to strike!

Zhao Hao's pupils constricted sharply. He abruptly withdrew his sword to defend, gripping the hilt with both hands, the tip pointing to the ground, his entire body coiled like a bow pulled to its limit.

A hazy, gray mist carrying the scent of rust and blood steamed up from his body, vaguely outlining a broken war halberd above his head. Though blurry, it radiated a tragic, desperate killing intent that would rather shatter than remain whole!

The moment the two auras collided.

"Boom!!!"

An invisible storm exploded with the ring as its center! Disciples nearby were sent tumbling by the shockwave, cries of alarm and pain mingling together. The stone lamp pillars at the edge of the ring snapped at the waist, and stone fragments shot out like shrapnel!

Li Tui was slammed hard against a stone pillar by the shockwave, his internal organs feeling as if they had been displaced. A mouthful of blood surged to his throat, which he swallowed down with great effort. His eyes were bloodshot, staring fixedly at the center of the storm.

There, space seemed to twist slightly. He "saw" the lone wolf phantom above Zhao Yuanchong's head lunge out, biting fiercely into the phantom of the broken halberd above Zhao Hao! There was no sound, but the struggle between the two caused the Samsara Mirror deep within his sea of consciousness to stir with desire?!

Devour! Resist! Crush!

The lone wolf bit down hard on the shaft of the spear, shaking its head in a frenzy; though the broken spear was damaged, it erupted with astonishing sharpness, stabbing back into the wolf's belly!

And it was at this very moment—when the origins of their Star Fate were colliding violently, when all their focus and power were drawn to their peak, and when all eyes in the shadows were most concentrated...

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

It was not his imagination.

He whipped his head around, his gaze cutting like a knife toward the darkest corner of the stands, where the crowd was densest. Just as the shockwave exploded, stone fragments flew, and everyone instinctively ducked, closed their eyes, or raised their hands to shield themselves.

A short, hunched figure, like a faded ghost, "slid" out from there.

The man wore dusty, coarse servant's clothes and a tattered felt hat, the brim pulled low to cover most of his face. He was indistinguishable among the panicked collateral disciples who were scrambling up from the ground.

He even stumbled as if pushed by the shockwave, his footsteps unsteady, and he "stumbled" a few steps in Li Tui's direction.

The movement was so natural it seemed as if he were truly an innocent bystander caught in the blast.

But Li Tui saw it.

He saw the cold, icy glance that flashed from beneath the shadow of the felt hat as the man lowered his head—a look like a viper eyeing a frog.

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

The closer he got, the more violent the scorching agitation in Li Tui's chest became, the pulsing of the tumor nearly shattering his ribs. It was an excitement and hunger akin to encountering a "peer" or "prey."

Old Ghost had truly come.

This was no long-distance surveillance, no probing. He intended to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime chaos, while those two on the stage drew all the attention, to enter the fray personally, engage in close-quarters combat, and seize the treasure in one fell swoop!

And this was the opportunity the evil cultivator had been waiting for, and likely... also part of the distraction Zhao Hao had counted on Li Tui to "create a commotion" to draw away.

Zhao Hao wanted a glimmer of survival.

The evil cultivator wanted to seize the treasure amidst the chaos.

And Li Tui...

His left hand, pressed against his chest, slowly curled into a fist. His knuckles turned white from the exertion, his nails nearly piercing through the fabric and digging into his flesh. Beneath his palm, that scorching pulse sent forth a spasm that felt almost like ecstasy.

He could "hear" the vague yet intense craving of the Blood Bodhi. A craving for chaos, a craving for collision, and a craving for... devouring.

A plan so insane it made his blood run cold fully took shape in that moment.

He no longer looked at the gray shadows drawing ever closer, instead casting his gaze back to the center of the arena, back to those two Star Fate phantoms still locked in a brutal, tearing struggle.

His lips moved silently.

Then, he took a deep breath of air thick with dust and the stench of blood, forcing all the remaining true qi in his body—along with that violent energy from the Blood Bodhi that felt ready to burst his chest—down into his dantian, before pushing it all, without reservation, toward that scorching foreign object in his chest!

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