Magic Master

Chen Ruiping ultimately never got to face the "opponent worthy of his weight" he had been longing for.

Even as his vitality and blood gradually ran dry, his inner breath failed, and his condition declined step by step, a very small number of people in the crowd remained coldly aloof from beginning to end. This left the young man, who had deliberately blocked the entrance alone, deeply disappointed.

Even in an obvious "low-health" state, the pressure needed to keep him hovering between life and death was still beyond what these ordinary users could provide!

After defeating or killing more than a dozen people again, even the broken sword in his hand finally met its end against someone with acidic saliva. A glob of thick phlegm landed on it, and the already meager blade suffered another blow. Before long, it had corroded clean through and snapped in half. After confirming that no suitable opponent was willing to step in, the increasingly "ferocious-looking" young man finally withdrew from the field in frustration.

As soon as he left, some people finally breathed a sigh of relief.

After all, when facing a ruthless "battle faction" maniac who looked like a vicious ghost—especially when they suspected he might be capable of a sudden power surge—anyone would feel somewhat uneasy.

Once that absurdly sharp-tongued fellow had stepped down, certain "spokespeople" with obvious ulterior motives naturally came forward, entering the First Round of what looked like a tense standoff but was actually a long-distance exchange of words—

Everyone was out here making a living. It was not all fighting and killing; there were also social ties and worldly dealings!

Letting a hotheaded kid stand at the front and "hack his way through an entire street" was simply too undignified!

Still, no matter how much certain self-proclaimed "civilized