Passing the Three Trials

Advisor Hao Wei nonchalantly proposed a compromise that both sides could barely accept.

"Fine." Xu Donglai agreed, and Zhou Hu also tacitly accepted this method.

Zhao An stood in the center of the arena, having no room for choice; his life and death were decided by the few words spoken by others.

Smacking his lips, he found this feeling truly unpleasant.

In his past life, there was at least the protection of the law, but here, whoever had the biggest fists held the absolute truth!

"Strength, it all comes down to strength..." Zhao An touched the hilt of the large ring-blade slung across his back.

"Zhao An, don't blame me, Advisor. You killed Xu San, so today's tribulation was unavoidable. I've fought for a sliver of a chance for you, so make sure you seize it." Hao Wei held a folding fan, tapping it lightly as he spoke.

Zhao An said nothing; this matter was beyond his control.

"Brother Zhao, your injury..." Zhao Chunzi said with a face full of worry.

"Stay to the side," Zhao An said indifferently.

"Brother Zhao, be careful!" Li Gou'er said. The two of them were of low status and little influence, making it impossible for them to help Zhao An.

The other Tiger Head Gang leaders were all his elders, and since their relationship with this rising young talent wasn't particularly good, none of them stepped up to help; most were even gloating.

Some of the core members were practically wishing for Zhao An to die so they could take his position as a leader.

"Liu Gen, you go." Xu Donglai pointed his finger.

A middle-aged man immediately stepped out from the crowd, carrying a machete. He looked at the wound on Zhao An's head with a playful smile.

According to the rules of the Python Gang, in a life-or-death duel like this that brought face to the gang leader, one could earn five taels of silver for winning—a decent profit.

Seeing that Zhao An was already injured, he felt like he was picking up an easy win.

"Kid, you're dead today!" Liu Gen said, holding his blade with the tip pointing at the ground.

Zhao An likewise drew his large ring-blade, the nine iron rings clinking and clattering.

He felt his whole body gradually heating up, as if his blood had turned boiling hot.

A violent emotion swirled in his heart.

Fear before the fight?

Impossible!

His predecessor was originally a brawler who loved to fight, and Zhao An was no weakling either!

A mere red-named mob—he would just kill him!

"Die!" Liu Gen roared, taking two steps forward with his machete and swinging it at Zhao An.

Zhao An did not change his expression. As if by muscle memory, he slid his feet and stepped to the side, raising his blade.

The edge of his blade rose at an extremely tricky angle, flashing past Liu Gen's eyes.

The next moment, the arm holding the machete was cleanly severed by Zhao An.

Blood splattered like shattered crimson jade beads, scattering across the ground.

Before Liu Gen could even howl in pain, Zhao An grabbed his throat with his left hand and yanked him forward.

He exerted force with his five fingers, nearly digging into the flesh and crushing the windpipe.

Zhao An had no interest in listening to the opponent's dying wails or pleas for mercy; he cleanly and decisively stabbed the blade through the man's heart.

"You thought you could kill me with just that?" Zhao An said calmly. He hadn't expected to adapt to slaughter so quickly.

At this moment, he felt no discomfort at all, only a bloodthirsty excitement.

[Wicked deeds committed, sinful soul harvested!]

Liu Gen's death was not the end; his soul was harvested to become a soul slave, eventually dissipating into nothingness.

Running into Zhao An, one could only say these red-named villains were out of luck.

The arena fell into a brief silence.

The few Tiger Head Gang leaders looked at each other, all seeing the shock in each other's eyes.

Since when did Zhao An possess such exquisite blade skills?!

A brute who had always relied on his fists had suddenly started using blade techniques, which they found unexpected and jarring.

Even the gang leader, Zhou Hu, took an extra look at Zhao An.

Xu Donglai's expression turned ugly, and he immediately summoned a second person.

"Dafu."

A chubby man walked out from behind Xu Donglai, his nostrils flared upward, giving him a somewhat pig-like appearance.

"That trash Liu Gen, he really lost all face, couldn't even handle a mere brat!" Dafu said irritably.

He drew a similar machete and charged straight at Zhao An.

When he was two steps away from Zhao An, he performed a side-flip in mid-air, swinging the heavy machete in a full circle to bring it down on Zhao An's head with great force.

Zhao An planted his feet firmly, raised his blade to parry, and managed to block the strike.

Dafu had not expected his blade to fail to inflict damage, realizing he had underestimated the strength of the kid before him.

Just as he intended to launch a second strike, the iron rings jingled, and a flash of steel cut through the air before his eyes.

With a wheezing sound from his throat, Dafu clutched his bleeding neck, his mouth agape as he found himself unable to breathe.

He stared at Zhao An in disbelief, then at the blood-dripping blade in Zhao An's hand.

"Your wind-up is too long, and it's all flash and no substance." Zhao An sheathed his blade, having claimed another soul slave!

Having lost two men in a row, Xu Donglai could no longer sit still.

If not for the fact that the rules could not be broken, he, as the gang leader, would have wanted to disregard his reputation and step into the fray himself.

He looked at Zhou Hu, who was sitting calmly to the side, his gaze unkind.

He now suspected that today's event was a trap set by Zhou Hu, just waiting for him to jump in.

"If Gang Leader Xu does not wish to continue, we can simply call it a day," Zhou Hu said lightly, taking a sip of tea.

Xu Donglai remained silent for a moment, his heart actually wavering.

Zhao An was playing the fool to catch his prey, leaving him uncertain; if he sent more men, there was no guarantee he wouldn't lose face again.

"Dazhuang!" Xu Donglai said coldly.

At this point, he was riding a tiger and found it hard to get off; backing down halfway would be just as embarrassing.

The man named Dazhuang did not take Zhao An lightly like the previous two, his expression grave as he regarded his opponent.

Having cut down two men in almost a single exchange each, it was clear to everyone that this was a tough nut to crack, and certainly not a matter of luck.

When Xu Donglai called his name, he was not even willing to step forward.

He had originally thought this was an easy way to earn money, but now it was clear he would be risking his life.

Dazhuang let out a loud shout, gathering all his strength to strike at Zhao An.

Compared to the previous two, this man had more power, and his movements were faster.

His posture was agile; among the martial brutes who had yet to cultivate internal energy, he was considered quite skilled.

Zhao An raised his blade to meet him. Having already fought two matches, he had consumed little energy because both had been quick victories.

Clang!

The two blades collided, the crisp sound of steel ringing throughout the hall.

After the first strike, neither side had gained an advantage, so the second and third strikes followed.

Slashes, thrusts, and parries—every move was lethal, and a moment of carelessness would mean death.

Dazhuang's strength was truly not weak; the other Tiger Head Gang leaders present all admitted they had no absolute certainty of defeating him.

However, it was Dazhuang who was now covered in sweat.

After only a few exchanges, he gradually fell into a passive position, with less and less room to counterattack.

Zhao An's blade technique was clearly more refined, and the momentum from his two previous kills made him even more imposing.

The Black Tiger Blade Technique was used repeatedly, leaving Dazhuang unable to keep up; a moment of inattention resulted in wounds on his chest, shoulders, and arms.

As Dazhuang grew more panicked, his combat effectiveness waned, until after a dozen consecutive strikes, he was the first to exhaust his strength, and Zhao An slashed him across the face.

The blade lodged into his facial bone, and Dazhuang collapsed, twitching as blood flowed endlessly; it was clear he had no chance of survival.

The entire hall fell silent; everyone knew that the three trials had been passed.

After today, Zhao An would likely become famous in a single battle!