Was this little girl a battle maniac?
Or some kind of pervert?
Watching Luo Yao's excited profile, Zhang Ling'er sank into thought.
Time trickled by, and the fight in the arena reached a fever pitch.
There were no spells that could destroy heaven and earth. The two young men in the arena just kept pounding each other, fist against flesh.
Ear-pulling, eye-gouging.
They used every dirty trick they could think of. The whole point was to kill the other man.
And the powerful onlookers watched with relish.
Sometimes, after seeing too many clashes between mighty experts, this was exactly what they wanted to watch.
"Pfft..."
At last, the victor was decided.
One young man lay motionless in the arena, his blood staining half of it red.
The other stood for just three breaths before crashing heavily to the ground.
"All right, number one wins. Betting opens now."
At the middle-aged man's announcement, half the powerful spectators sighed.
They had lost again.
The next moment, the two bloodied corpses in the arena returned to normal. Even the blood vanished, as if nothing had happened.
"Place your bets for round two! No more bets once it starts!"
As he called out, the middle-aged man began casting spells on the two corpses.
"Let's see. You're a prince who grew up far from home. Your mother was framed by the First Prince and died an unjust death."
"You wandered in hardship for eighteen years, until chance brought you face-to-face with your enemy—the First Prince you thought about day and night, whose blood you longed to drink and whose flesh you longed to eat."
"This time, the First Prince happens to have gone out without his guards. You want to kill him."
After weaving the memories, the middle-aged man casually tossed the ball of light