Emperor slayed the dragon to capture the world.
Within Aran, there were discussions of martial arts and assessnts of ability.
The Imperial Arena, convening every month.
In the ninth month of the year, the annual Continent Martial Arts Competition was one of the most tumultuous and grand events of the Western Continent.
Even though Pyapan was not the runner-up of the Continent Martial Arts Competition, the monthly encounter was also extrely prestigious.
Performing exceptionally well in the Imperial Arena would lead directly to the upper echelons of the military, soaring to great heights. Pyapan, with no military achievents, held the rank of Colonel and was just one act of valor away from imdiate promotion to Quasi General.
His runner-up status required that his strength, agility, and combat skills all had to reach the pinnacle, and he was further expected to push the boundaries even more; otherwise, he couldn’t fight his way out in the arena.
With a horizontal and vertical slash of his Special Large Blade, it ca down like a ton of bricks.
Ox blocked effortlessly, the buzzing resonance of giant steel clashing echoed, ready to burst eardrums; no one dared approach their vicinity. Both sides wielded heavy and powerful weapons, any ordinary soldiers accidentally touched would die instantly.
Ox savagely pulled out his sword slashing towards Pyapan’s neck, Pyapan stood his blade upright, sparks flying everywhere, and the places where the sharp blades touched under the imnse strength turned red-hot, like a branding iron.
Pyapan barely held up, his arm muscles bulging, veins popping out one after another—such terrifying strength from the rfolk.
"You’ve got quite the force there."
Pyapan imdiately gave up on parrying. Despite his size, he was anything but clumsy, bursting with ferocity and agility, bending and twisting his body, and turning to slash in a wide arc, mustering all his strength to sever Ox’s legs.
With a lift and slash of the door-sized Special Large Sword, it almost caused Pyapan’s great sword to fly out of his grip as he stumbled back several steps. The force of the sword cut also tore open a gash on his chest that began to bleed, Pyapan’s right hand quivering, forcing himself to grip the Special Large Sword.
Ox remained silent.
"Is that all you’ve got, Pyapan?"
Although Zahak showed no anger on his face, inside he was seething with rage. The Aran Constitutional Soldiers had been thrown into disarray by a group of pirates; even if he successfully brought back his target, he would not look good.
Pyapan’s hair stood on end, facing the reprimand he dared not speak, and as Ox slashed at him furiously again, he was still unable to withstand and was forced to retreat several steps.
"Useless."
Zahak’s eyes grew cold with intent, ready to draw his sword to execute Ox.
In the oppressive and muggy sky, a violent storm finally arrived. The heavens rolled with black clouds surging with lightning. Accompanied by a thunderclap, the entire world lit up for a fleeting mont as if it were the midnight sun.
Bang!
Bang!
Two Flying Knives appeared from the woods, Zahak, unconcerned with aiding Pyapan, deflected the knives with his sword.
Though it seed effortless.
Only Zahak knew the ferocity of the force; like the launch of a cannonball. It wasn’t just the rfolk; there was also a master lurking in the woods.
He looked in the direction from which the knives were thrown, but there was no one in sight.
The overall situation was of paramount importance.
Morison intended to draw out the fiercest Zahak, to have Ox slaughter his entire team.
He changed the target.
Bang!
The Flying Knife shot out with such exaggerated power that it was like a Siege Crossbow, penetrating and killing two Constitutional Soldiers in succession, the second one even nailed directly to a tree, both dying instantly.
Bang!
Another two Constitutional Soldiers were blown apart.
Zahak’s heart shook; continuing like this would undoubtedly lead to defeat.
Morison revealed himself, standing at the edge of the woods. Half of his face was scarred and disfigured with burn wounds and more than a dozen oblique scars, looking ferocious and sinister.
He took another Flying Knife from the strap on his chest, but made no move, simply holding it in his hand, staring coldly at Zahak then stepping back two paces.
The ssage was clear: if you don’t co and kill , I will stay here and wipe out your n one by one.
Zahak had no choice but to charge towards Morison on horseback.
However.
Zahak’s warhorse, having followed him for many years, crushing many Cult bases big and small, had never lost control before.
No matter how Zahak spurred it, the horse neighed in panic, refusing to move towards that side.
Zahak knew who he was here to capture.
Under the ruthless rules of Aran politics, he understood that if he returned without the target, his survival was already dood.
His face was completely cold.
He displayed the resolve a high-ranking Aran official should have.
Snap!
With one slash, he beheaded the cowardly enemy – no need to keep him around.
The warhorse’s head fell, blood spraying everywhere, as Zahak landed steadily on the ground.
"Pyapan, don’t you still have Life Alchemy within you? Don’t disgrace ; I’ll handle the strongest one here," Zahak said, his gaze dark and cold. Even if it was a trap, an ambush, he had to face it and charged towards the shadowy woods.
"It may feel like a hollow victory."
Pyapan had made up his mind. Once Life Alchemy was activated, he would spend the rest of his days living as a monster, with no way back.
The blood-red runes on his back swelled and spread across his entire body. His hair turned blood-red and exploded outward.
His speed, strength, resilience, and explosive power all soared to terrifying dinsions.
His two-and-a-half-ter fra suddenly beca incredibly agile. He leapt seven ters into the air, spinning wildly as he did so. His Special Large Blade whipped around in a frenzy, heating the surrounding air with its passage. He descended from the sky and ferociously struck down at Ox.
A massively dull thud.
Even Ox was struggling to hold on. The weight of the blade itself, the enhanced cutting force of the Life Rune, gravity, montum—all combined to exceed five tons.
Ox’s knees began to bend imperceptibly.
At that mont,
A torrential downpour fell from the sky.
Rein, having slaughtered the warhorses on the main road, licked the blood from his claws and watched the scene unfold at Ox’s side. The soaking rainfall made distinct splashes as it shattered on the ground.
Rein laughed madly, his gaping maw terrifying to behold.
"Buddy, even the heavens want you dead."
Rein taunted Pyapan, well aware of Ox’s capabilities. Ordinary rfolk found it difficult to survive on land for long periods, even the ones traveling from the Mirror Sea to trade would regularly enter the water and dared not stay long on land. Ox endured solely through his terrifying physical conditioning. It was akin to being in a constant state of altitude sickness, his oxygen-starved muscles making any fighting effort almost anaerobic, never being able to exert his full strength.
Pyapan was as good as dead, the Black Sail’s Second Officer was unbeatable at this mont.
As Ox’s gills on his chest and back opened and closed rapidly, oxygen flooded his system, and his limbs were filled with renewed power.
Bang!
A sword slashed out—pure power overwheld everything—Pyapan was sent flying, along with the blade, over ten ters. He crashed into a tree, his internal organs damaged, vomiting a mouthful of fresh blood.
Deep in the dense forest,
The rain poured down in torrents.
Zahak was pursuing Morison, and in no ti, they had reached a relatively sparse clearing in the woods, with a view extending over the East Sea Domain.
His hair completely drenched, Zahak gripped his bloody long sword, with the pressure of the court and the combats of the East Shore pushing him to the brink. Just his killing intent was enough to drive away all the birds and beasts in the woods.
Morison also stopped, having led Zahak far enough away to ensure he could no longer influence the battle.
The storm raged and the waves surged.
A matter of life and death.
"Are you going to chop with that toy-like thing?"
Morison spread his hands, not even holding a weapon, and with a sneer, he played with Zahak’s ntal state.
Unprovoked, Zahak, carrying his sword casually, slowly approached Morison.
Thump thump...
Flying Knives shot out, and rather than block and waste his strength, Zahak deftly dodged with acute awareness. Three successive Crossbow Arrows anticipated his trajectory, aiming for his head through the air.
Zahak simply twirled his sword, scattered the surrounding raindrops, and for a mont created a vacuum—three arrows shattered and landed broken on the ground as the downpour resud.
"Is that all you’ve got?"
Zahak was sowhat disdainful, now about twenty ters away from Morison.
Boom!
A clap of thunder exploded, and a white flare lit up the sky and earth.
Morison was already upon him, his hand striking out as if lightning were born from the night.
The dagger swept towards Zahak’s neck.
Fast as...a ghost.
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