This is a canyon of moderate size, lush with vegetation, where birds and animals sing. Above, a golden orb of light casts dazzling rays of dawn, seemingly able to penetrate the depths of life, bringing an unconscious sense of warmth.
In this somewhat cramped environment, a full hundred Sixth-Tier Transcendent had gathered. Some were humanoid races with unknown scales, some were bloodthirsty and warlike magical beasts with scarlet pupils, and some were dressed in noble and elegant formal attire, seemingly not there to fight, but rather to treat this place as an amusement park.
Either of them could traverse the entire canyon in a few breaths at their speed, but at this moment, they were only inches apart. To Sixth-Tier Transcendent, this was equivalent to two mortals holding knives to each other's necks.
Thrilling and incredibly exciting, as the protective bubble burst, sparks burst forth like fireworks shooting straight into the sky, exploding in a dazzling yet intense display of light.
Brush!
The sound of wind breaking through the canyon echoed as a demi-human, only half the height of Logo, with iron-gray skin and two pairs of pupils, charged swiftly and agilely towards Logo, accompanied by crackling lightning.
"This kid arrived last, he must be an alchemist or Mechanics. I'm closest to him, so if I'm fast enough, I can strike first and eliminate him in one fell swoop. Then I can steal his equipment, which will greatly increase my chances of getting through the elimination rounds..." The four-eyed dwarf thought to himself, his eyes filled with ruthlessness and decisiveness.
For an imperial-level power, the Martial Arts Tournament held by the Gendaya Royal Court was only a moderately large event, with some influence but still insignificant.
However, in the entire Elven Plane, there are only a handful of imperial-level powers, extremely rare.
Among the masses, many more live hand to mouth, never knowing when they will be sold into slavery, or wake up one morning to find themselves lying on a cold operating table, at the mercy of others, or being devoured by powerful monsters...
A struggling survivor.
These beings are the dominant group on planets, planes, and even Astral Realm.
In order to climb the social ladder, they need to use any means necessary to amass all the resources that can provide them with power, and participating in various competitions is a very common way of doing so.
Participating in open, Transcendent duels not only brings fame and prize money from the organizers, but also allows you to hone your combat skills—a win-win situation.
This four-eyed dwarf is a survivor. His hometown was brutally massacred, and the power of hatred drove him to grow stronger. For this, he paid countless wages and made countless efforts...
Unfortunately, this time, he encountered Logo, and provoked the person he should have least wanted to mess with in this competition.
Faced with the attack launched from the flank, Logo's eyes remained calm and unwavering, like a deep pool, a stark contrast to the fierce curtain that had been raised behind him.
The fabric fluttered like a battle flag, and the Fire of Birth, carrying a scorching and imposing aura, rose up in an instant, shrouding the boy's calm and indifferent expression.
Amidst the firelight, five dark gun barrels resembled tunnels leading to the Nine Hells, exuding a profound, chilling, and bone-chilling aura.
"No..."
A deadly sense of threat washed over every muscle and bone like a tidal wave, causing the body to tremble, blood to freeze, and bloodshot veins in the eyes to spread rapidly like a spiderweb, swelling and expanding...
Bang!...
Five shots rang out almost simultaneously, making it sound to outsiders as if Logo had only fired one shot.
Puff puff puff!
The sound of a bullet piercing flesh was shrill and muffled, as if life itself were being crushed, carrying a certain captivating quality.
The four-eyed dwarf stared wide-eyed as he flew straight out, propelled by the powerful inertia of the bullet.
Five bullets: two to the head, one to the heart, one to the lungs, and one aimed at a spot below the throat, the very heart of this four-eyed dwarf.
Although they are all humanoid races, their vital points are different.
Some races can be decapitated and only suffer minor injuries, but if you break one of their fingers, it might be an instant death.
Logo knew the four-eyed dwarf's weakness the moment he arrived.
As his life rank grows stronger, the power of his Eye of Insight seems to be running wild at a breakneck pace, growing stronger every moment, like wild grass growing rampant in spring. In the blink of an eye, it has grown taller than a young man's waist, a sight that moves one to tears and causes one to struggle.
This power was so vast and boundless, yet so cold and ruthless, like a heaven that treats all living beings like straw dogs. A faint, ethereal voice descended from nowhere, seemingly saying—those who are unworthy of their position will surely suffer calamity.
Thump!!
The four-eyed dwarf may appear short, but he is actually extremely heavy. His physical weight is comparable to that of steel of the same volume. When he fell to the ground, he made a dull thud, attracting the attention of many terrified eyes.
Upon seeing the four-eyed dwarfs on the ground, whose life force flickered like a candle flame in the wind, all the Transcendent beings felt their hearts clench, as if a slender yet coarse ghostly claw had gripped their vital points. Their fighting movements abruptly ceased, like ducks being choked.
The fear didn't last long. Green light emerged from the ground, instantly healing the four-eyed dwarf's wounds. The tender, unripe flower buds gently closed, and the man vanished.
The scene before them brought a sigh of relief to everyone. The Verdant Courtyard truly lived up to its reputation as Demigod of the Elf Race, possessing unbelievably powerful healing abilities. Such a fatal injury was healed in an instant.
If that's the case, then what is there to worry about?
Putting aside their last bit of hesitation, the hundred Transcendent exchanged glances and charged towards Logo in unison.
To instantly kill Sixth-Tier Transcendent —that kind of strength is truly terrifying. It's better to eliminate him sooner rather than later.
Boom!
In a flash, dazzling lights of various colors shone across the canyon—blades, sword energy, fist strikes, spells...
They converged into a torrent powerful enough to overturn everything, engulfing the boy's somewhat frail body.
"Ha, that's decisive enough."
The cold sneer dissipated with the wind, and a flash of golden-blue fire appeared. As if leaping through space, Logo dodged most of the frontal attacks in a flash. Then, his control-immune Primordial Qi Tyrant Body was unleashed, and a thin layer of energy light shattered more than a dozen control-type abilities.
Amidst the clanging of machinery and the scraping sound, bullets were chambered and then fired simultaneously.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
One shot rang out, followed by five bullets.
The boy's figure flickered erratically, like a ghostly phantom. In the blink of an eye, he had already flashed several times. Each flash was accompanied by the sparks of gunfire, which, along with the splashes of blood, created a dazzling spectacle.
Screams and groans rose and fell, and in less than ten seconds, more than half of the hundred people in the arena had been killed. The remaining people stared in disbelief at the unscathed youth who seemed like the king of the Nether Realm, their fighting spirit collapsing like a crumbling mountain.
Without uttering a single word, the first Transcendent fled.
This is Transcendent being of the magical beast lineage, a pure white rat.
Its escape seemed to break a tacit agreement; the mob scattered like birds and beasts in an instant.
Logo remained unmoved, his eyes still clear and cold. He lightly stepped forward, leaving long trails of fire as he traversed the sky, scattering seeds of death along the way. Wherever he passed, a barrage of bullets rained down, and one Transcendent after another fell to the ground, never to rise again.
Elegant Slaughter.
All the viewers who witnessed this scene couldn't help but have this thought in their minds.
And subconsciously, another question arose, "If this were a real battlefield, could this boy still be so calm and collected, cutting down enemies like mowing grass?"
No one can answer this question.
"Wow, this little guy is something else. If I'm not mistaken, two of the five sniper rifles he's holding should be of Legend quality, right?" Mage Mokelan stroked his beard, a unique brilliance flashing in his wise and ancient eyes.
Then, the old man looked at the Grand Elder strangely, "You really want to take out such a rare gem? Aren't you afraid it will be killed by hostile forces?"
The significance of being able to forge two Legend- quality sniper rifles within the specified time limit is self-evident.
If you consider the boy's age and the time he spent learning alchemy, anyone would be momentarily stunned and exclaim that he was an exceptionally talented individual.
This precious child, instead of being hidden away and nurtured under the protection of darkness by the precarious Gendaya Royal Court, was deliberately exposed to the harsh, scorching sunlight, as if afraid of remaining unknown to outsiders. What was the meaning behind this?
Could it be that this little guy has offended his old friend?
The Mage Mokelan couldn't help but have this dark thought, but he quickly suppressed it.
Having known each other for many years, he understood the Elder's character well. He considered the restoration of the Royal Court as the most important mission of his life. Such an old man, who carried the race through the mud and darkness alone, would not be so selfish.
That leaves only one explanation.
His old friend had other plans.
Thinking of this, Mokelan breathed a sigh of relief, a gentle smile appearing on his lips, believing he had guessed the Grand Elder's true intentions.
However, the next moment, he sensed a strong emotional fluctuation in his old friend beside him.
His lips trembled, his face twitched, his fingers clenched tightly, and even his eyes flashed with undisguised astonishment and anger.
"You brat!!!"
The Grand Elder roared inwardly, his heart pounding with rage.
The question Logo had asked him a few days ago involuntarily flashed through his mind, "Elder, if I reveal my extraordinary talent, will it bring about a great disaster?"
At the time, this is what I replied, "Kid, just go for it. I've got you covered. The entire Royal Court will back you up. You're a kid with a family, not a wild dog from the wilderness."
Recalling the past few days, the Grand Elder repeatedly expressed his pride in his eloquence, especially when he remembered the fleeting emotion and warmth in the young man's eyes; his smugness was palpable.
He's still just a brat; no matter how cold he tries to hide it, he still longs for the warmth of home.
However, right now, the Grand Elder just wanted to slap himself twice.
If time could be turned back, he would definitely say to Logo in an extremely forceful tone, "Kid, you'd better stay put. Your alchemical talent isn't suited for going on adventures and showing your face in public..."
"The most crucial thing is, I'm fucking afraid I can't protect you."
The Grand Elder, who was well aware of Logo's entire growth experience, deeply understood the significance of being able to create two two-star Legend quality weapons in just a year and a half.
Perhaps there was an element of luck involved.
But between nations, the prevailing attitude has always been better to kill a thousand innocent people than let one guilty person go free.
Besides, if you're lucky, you might get a Legend item, which is not bad.
Two items at once...
If you went out and said that to people with such a brazen attitude, you'd probably get a lot of stares like you were looking at an idiot.
"What should we do...?" The Grand Elder hadn't felt so lost in a long time.
Perhaps Logo himself didn't realize what consequences his stroke of good luck would bring.
"Judging from your performance, you actually don't understand this young man's talent?" Mokelan's eyes widened slightly, his expression one of utter astonishment, as if to say, "You idiot, you don't even know how outstanding your own disciple is? How did you become the Grand Elder?"
The elder was naturally embarrassed by his old friend's look, but he was thick-skinned enough to cough a few times and change the subject, while frantically thinking about how to minimize the impact of the incident.
But after much deliberation, the Grand Elder sighed in dejection.
What else can be done about a live broadcast?
It's too late to remedy the situation. With the keen senses of those dogs in the White Wolf Kingdom and the Dawn Empire, they must have already discovered Logo's alchemical talent.
The ensuing assassinations were almost inevitable.
"We can't let him go back to Sunset Jungle, it's too dangerous!"
Such thoughts arose uncontrollably.
But it's always good to have multiple options. The Grand Elder is always a master of having multiple escape routes, and the Night Watchers is like a hidden blade. Therefore, he knows better than anyone the importance of having trump cards and backup plans.
As thoughts raced through his mind, the Grand Elder suddenly looked up, gazing at Mage Mokelan with a warm and gentle smile—a smile that was simply radiant and comforting.
But Mokelan felt a chill; whenever his old friend gave him that look, it was never a good sign.
After a long silence, perhaps defeated, a long sigh escaped his lips. "Tell me, what do you want me to help you with?"
The elder rubbed his hands together, a somewhat obsequious expression appearing on his face, and chuckled, "It's nothing, I just wanted to ask you to act as a go-between."
As soon as he finished speaking, Mokelan understood what his old friend meant. He instinctively wanted to refuse, but his friend's fawning expression made his eyes slightly unfocused.
A hundred years ago, Kim Laken would rather die than show this side of himself.
He is Unrivaled God of War, a synonym for coldness and sharpness, whose fame resounds throughout the entire Elven Plane.
No one could have imagined that he would be the Night Watchers of the Gendaya Royal Court, not even Mokelan.
Memories flooded back, Mokelan finally softened. Under his old friend's expectant gaze, he nodded slightly, "Just this once!"