A Blade to the Death! Slaughtered in the Street!

Tylen took a deep breath, and the servility and terror on his face vanished in an instant.

In their place was a dead stillness and coldness as deep as an abyss.

By now, Haige had lost his patience.

"Move! Kill him!"

At his command, the four underlings each pulled sharp bone-cleaving knives from their bosoms, glinting coldly in the sunlight as they closed in from all sides.

A gasp rippled through the crowd.

"Gods! They've drawn blades!"

"Have these apprentices gone mad? Murdering someone in the street?"

Facing the gleaming blades, Tylen didn't retreat a single step.

He straightened his back, his gaze blazing like a torch, and bellowed at Haige:

"Haige!!"

This thunderous roar rang out like a clap of thunder, making everyone's ears ring.

"You don't care about the reputation of Cain Wizard Tower, but I do!"

"As long as I remain a part of Cain Wizard Tower, I am one of its members! I won't allow a scumbag like you to defile the tower's glory!"

Tylen extended his right hand, pointing directly at Haige's brow, his voice ringing with resolve:

"Haige, I, Magnus, hereby challenge you to a sacred wizard's duel!"

Whoosh—!

As this powerful shout erupted, the surrounding onlookers burst into an uproar.

The crowd quickly gathered, packing in layer upon layer until there was no room to move.

A thief in a hooded cloak, a dagger at his waist, leaned against the wall, chewing on a straw, and sneered:

"Tsk tsk, is the world so competitive now? Even corpse-collecting apprentices are getting fancy, challenging duels?"

Beside him, a middle-aged seamstress clutching a roll of cloth shook her head and sighed:

"What duel? That's just a one-sided slaughter."

"That tall one's a notorious bully around here—he's got blood on his hands. That skinny kid's in for a bad day today."

"I'm not so sure."

An advanced apprentice in fine robes passing by stopped and watched the scene with interest: "That kid's eyes... don't look like someone who's about to die."

At the very front of the crowd, a fiery female mercenary stood with her arms crossed, watching the show.

She had hair as dazzling as flames, sun-kissed skin glowing with health in the sunlight, and tight leather armor that outlined a breathtaking figure.

"Interesting."

The female mercenary licked her lips, her wild eyes fixed on Tylen: "To stay so calm in a dead end like this... this kid's either a madman or he's got a trump card."

"A level 0, malnourished corpse-collecting apprentice—what trump card could he have?"

In the center of the arena.

Haige heard the word "duel," froze for a moment, then laughed so hard tears nearly came to his eyes.

"A duel? From you?"

He looked contemptuously at Tylen's scrawny frame, toying with the heavy bone-cleaving knife in his hand.

"You're not even worthy of dueling me! Since you want to die spectacularly, I'll grant your wish!"

"Brothers, get him!"

Before the words had even faded, Haige charged forward first.

Despite his massive build, his movements were exceptionally agile.

Like a rampaging wild boar, he came with a whistling wind, the bone-cleaving knife aimed straight for Tylen's heart.

This strike was fast, precise, and ruthless.

Pure murder intent.

Just as the knife tip was about to touch Tylen's chest—

He moved.

Tylen's figure flickered like a ghost, dodging to the left, barely evading the lethal blow.

Then, instead of retreating, he advanced.

One step forward, and he was right up against Haige's chest.

"Looking for death!"

Haige was delighted rather than alarmed.

Close-quarters combat? That was his specialty!

He grinned savagely, raising his left hand to grab Tylen's shoulder, then whipping his right blade back to gut the brat open.

He could already picture the beautiful sight of Tylen's entrails spilling across the ground.

But then.

Tylen raised his right hand.

No knife. No sword.

Just an ordinary, even somewhat pale palm.

Five fingers pressed together like a hand blade, drifting lightly down toward Haige's shoulder.

"Ha! You here to tickle me?"

Haige laughed mockingly, not taking the feather-light strike seriously at all.

He puffed out his chest, too lazy to even dodge.

His body, forged through years of training since childhood, could snap wooden clubs on impact—let alone a mere flesh palm.

But.

The moment Tylen's palm touched Haige's shoulder—

Hum!

An extremely faint yet chilling high-frequency vibration rang out.

It was the death wail of mana compressed to its limit.

Magic Thorn Art: Hand Blade Form

Thud!

No sound of impact.

Only the dull thwack of a blade slicing through worn leather.

The sneer on Haige's face froze instantly.

The next second, an indescribable, searing pain shot through his entire body like lightning, drowning his reason.

It felt as though a red-hot battle-axe had cleaved him in two.

"Uh...?"

Haige looked down in a daze.

He saw a sight that froze his soul.

Tylen's palm had sliced through his linen robe and tough muscle like tofu, without the slightest resistance.

Then, it followed through.

Crack!

Collarbone shattered.

Thwip!

Chest cavity split open, lung lobes neatly severed.

Finally, that death-laden hand precisely cut the aorta above his heart.

All of this happened in a flash.

Psh—!!!

A blood bomb seemed to detonate inside Haige's chest.

A torrent of blood mixed with gas spurting from his lungs erupted through the horrific wound, forming a fountain that splattered all over Tylen's face and body.

Tylen stood in the rain of blood without even blinking.

His expression calm, he withdrew his hand with composure, blood dripping from his fingertips onto the ground, pooling into a shocking crimson puddle.

Haige's mouth gaped open, a gurgling rattle escaping his throat.

He tried to raise his hand, to speak, but a terrifying suffocation instantly seized his brain.

His life force drained away with the gushing blood.

Thud!

His iron-tower-like body toppled straight backward, crashing heavily onto the stone road, kicking up a cloud of dust.

He twitched twice, then fell still.

Dead with eyes wide open.

Silence.

A deathly silence.

The once-boisterous street was now so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The four underlings who had been so aggressive moments ago now had faces pale as sheets, their Bone-Cleaving Knives clattering to the ground with a clang.

They stared at their boss, lying in a pool of blood with his chest nearly split in two, their legs trembling uncontrollably, and even damp stains seeping through their crotches.

The onlooking crowd was stunned, mouths agape as if witnessing some miraculous feat.

"W-What is that?"

The hooded thief was so startled his cigarette fell from his lips as he muttered to himself: "A hand blade? Was that magic? Pretty insidious... but it seems to suit me well!"

The seamstress had covered her eyes in fright, unable to bear the bloody scene.

"Such sharp mana control."

The senior apprentice's face was grim, his eyes full of wariness: "Solidifying a first-tier spell, Magic Thorn Art, onto his palm? And achieving that level of cutting power—is this kid really just a corpse-collecting apprentice?"

As for the red-haired female mercenary, the gleam in her eyes only grew brighter.

She watched Tylen, drenched in blood yet still expressionless, and lightly licked her red lips with a low chuckle:

"Tough enough, fierce enough. This little one... I like him."

Just as the crowd buzzed with shock and discussion, a sharp whistle rang out.

"Move aside! Everyone move aside!"

Two fully armed city guards pushed through the crowd and strode in.

Seeing the corpse on the ground and the blood everywhere, the guards frowned, hands resting on their sword hilts.

"What's going on? Who's causing trouble?"

One guard glanced at Haige on the ground, recognized the apprentice robe, and curled his lips in disinterest.

Just another bunch of wizard tower apprentices.

These guys were always up to their weird antics; a death or two was common. As long as no civilians were harmed, they couldn't be bothered.

By now, Tylen had withdrawn his hand.

He casually wiped the blood off his hand on Haige's corpse, then turned and gave the guards a flawless bow.

Though his face was covered in blood, his composed and calm demeanor only made him seem more eerie and dangerous.

"Good day, officers."

Tylen's voice was as calm as if he were recounting some trivial matter:

"I am Magnus, an apprentice of Cain Wizard Tower. These men just attempted to rob my goods and physically assault me."

"To uphold the honor of the wizard tower and ensure my personal safety, I was forced to challenge him to a duel."

"This is an internal matter of Cain Wizard Tower. Unfortunately, he lost the duel."

As he spoke, Tylen stepped forward naturally, using his body as cover to slip two bills into the guard's hand.

"That's 200 Purple Gold Coins."

Tylen said with a smile:

"For dirtying the city streets and causing you trouble."

"Consider this my fine and a token of your trouble."

The guard weighed the bills in his hand, and the stern expression on his face instantly softened.

200 Purple Gold Coins! Enough for a good time at Spring Flower Street tonight.

And the surrounding crowd chimed in:

"That's right, officer, that big guy struck first!"

"That kid called for a duel—it was self-defense!"

"That big guy was a local bully; he deserved to die!"

Public opinion was unanimous.

The two guards exchanged a glance and nodded in silent understanding.

Since there was money to be had, it was an internal wizard tower dispute, and the dead man was a notorious thug—what was there to investigate?

"Ahem."

The lead guard cleared his throat, pocketed the money pouch, and waved his hand:

"Since it's a wizard duel, it's none of our business."

"Next time, keep it less bloody on the street. Get the body cleaned up quickly!"

With that, the two turned and left, their departure brisk and decisive.

Tylen watched the guards leave, then turned coldly to the four underlings, now frozen in terror.

"What are you standing around for?"

Tylen pointed at Haige's corpse on the ground, then at the empty space on his own cart.

"Move him up there."

"Since he came to snatch the corpse, let him become a corpse himself and come along with me."

The four underlings, as if granted amnesty, scrambled over and frantically stuffed their former boss into a body bag.

Tylen stood in the sunlight, listening to the task completion chime in his mind, a cold arc curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't you understand the weight of 'Don't Bully the Young and Poor'!"