The Final Witch had gotten serious.
Protective spells, strategy, traps...
Forcing her to bring out such things, Jiang Han was no longer one of the bottom-ranked Archwitches. She had evolved long ago, becoming a petite legend.
At this moment, her will had surpassed everything she had once been.
Yet her heart was like ice, like a still lake. She emptied her mind and let her still-boiling body govern her desire to win.
Jiang Han felt as though she had become Ludwig of that era—the Ludwig who had grown beneath Eileen's protection.
Perhaps it was precisely that desire for victory that had allowed that Ludwig to grow into the Final Witch and perfectly unleash her talent.
Jiang Han quietly experienced this urge to survive. A sour ache, an unprecedented premonition, welled up in her heart.
It was like something tart stimulating her body and heart, making her teeth ache and her vision blur.
She realized it.
The next second, she drove her fist hard into her own ribs. Hard.
The pain instantly snapped her awake and drove away the sour ache.
The sound was so loud that the assistant referee said helplessly:
"Contestant Jiang Han, please do not harm yourself before the match begins."
"Sorry. I was just focusing my attention a little."
Jiang Han gave a bitter smile.
The assistant referee's gaze lingered on her face for a moment before she raised a small flag.
"Do not repeat the offense. Witches possess many spells and specialties that can enhance their basic abilities through self-harm. That constitutes cheating and is prohibited by the ITWF."
Unaffected by beauty or anything else, the assistant referee delivered her judgment coldly.
"One violation. After two violations, the opposing witch will be allowed to cast one protective spell in advance."
There were no pastoral poems on