A witch's condition often fluctuated between good and bad. Though there was a lower limit, outside actual combat that limit could drop to a degree shocking the entire world.
It was all because of the terrifying immortality of top-tier witches.
In actual combat, after being killed a dozen or twenty-odd times, even the most physically lazy and technically rusty top-tier witch would return to her peak condition and begin to fight back. Deciding victory and defeat with a single life in witch competitions was the greatest possible weakening for witches like them.
"They only pulled out two strands of my hair, and they declared that I lost." Those words had come from Agatha.
Alesha's condition this time was clearly absurdly strong, much like Eileen and Angelite's condition during their decisive battle.
Jiang Han felt only a trace of envy, yet she could sense the flames in Angelite's blazing eyes beside her, her hands clenching from time to time, and the sound of marrow fluid flowing like quiet, pleasing water.
Her desire to fight had been stirred up for once.
It was hard to endure, wasn't it, Angelite?
Jiang Han understood that feeling deeply. After watching an exciting match, she too would be seized by that longing to fight. Ridiculously enough, it was like watching a blood-boiling video of swordplay, weapon sparring, and martial combat in her previous life, then finding a branch on a walk outside that happened to resemble a sword. If no one was around, she would pick it up and swing it about. Angelite was in precisely that state now.
But there was nothing to be done.
There were not many witches in the world who could let Angelite vent her fighting spirit.
She could only endure it.
South City Mandrake still lost in the end.