I Really Am A Villain Chapter 1412 - Battle Against Black Flood Dragon

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“Tell me,” Xu Zimo said, “do you think pairing Spectral Prince with Zhang Hengzhi was just a coincidence, or did someone arrange it on purpose?”

Shangguan Xian hesitated. “It should be a coincidence, right? This is the Chaos Fire God Realm’s tournament. No one would dare cheat so blatantly.”

“In this world,” Xu Zimo replied with a faint smile, “if the benefits are high enough, any line can be crossed.”

“If Zhang Hengzhi dies,” he asked, “should Spectral Prince be killed?”

“I suppose… he should,” Shangguan Xian answered uncertainly.

Zhang Hengzhi was a decent person. Though they hadn’t known each other long, he was still half a friend.

“Then what about the referee who arranged this match?” Xu Zimo continued. “Should he be killed too? And what about the person who bribed him behind the scenes, should they also die?”

Xu Zimo asked one question after another.

Shangguan Xian was at a loss for words.

If she said yes, that would contradict the very argument she had made to Xu Zimo earlier. But if she said no, would Zhang Hengzhi’s death just be meaningless?

She was torn between the two.

Meanwhile, on the arena, Zhang Hengzhi was already covered in blood, his body battered and broken.

Spectral Prince practiced a ghostly demonic art. Whenever he struck, spectral wails and deathly energy surrounded him.

It was as if countless vengeful spirits encircled his body. Even those watching from below could feel the bone-chilling cold.

Zhang Hengzhi, on the other hand, was a pure sword cultivator. His aura was sharp and upright, his essence wielded the sword, and the sword carried his will to pierce the heavens.

Unfortunately, his strength was still lacking.

Spectral Prince had already reached the second stage of the Grand Emperor Realm, the Void Tribulant stage.

Zhang Hengzhi, by contrast, was still struggling at the God Meridian realm.

They weren’t even on the same scale of power.

Spectral Prince could have killed him with a single blow, but he didn’t. Instead, he toyed with Zhang Hengzhi like a predator savoring its prey.

“Sword Descends Upon Void!” Zhang Hengzhi roared.

A sky-splitting sword strike fell from above, tearing through space itself.

But Spectral Prince merely reached out and grabbed it. The tremendous sword intent shattered in his palm.

“Someone paid a handsome price for your head,” Spectral Prince said with a cruel grin, his voice overlapping with the echoes of countless ghostly whispers.

In an instant, his form blurred and reappeared right in front of Zhang Hengzhi.

Grabbing him by the collar, he sneered, “I don’t need the money. I just enjoy watching people die slowly, especially my opponents. The agony before death, that’s what truly feels good.”

Zhang Hengzhi was drenched in blood, too weak to even speak.

Spectral Prince laughed maniacally.

He held Zhang Hengzhi up with one hand, while the other became a hammering fist, smashing repeatedly into Zhang Hengzhi’s chest.

The sound of impact, bang, bang, bang!, echoed through the arena.

Blood splattered everywhere, flesh torn open.

Some spectators couldn’t bear to watch any longer and turned their faces away.

Finally, Spectral Prince seemed to tire of it.

Spirit energy gathered around his right fist, and with one last devastating blow, he sent Zhang Hengzhi flying across the stage.

“At this point,” Shangguan Xian finally said, “let’s stop debating and go check on Holy Lord Zhang.”

Xu Zimo didn’t argue.

In truth, he knew, without rules or restraint, most people’s nature would turn toward evil.

Too many still imagined this world to be better than it really was.

The two approached Zhang Hengzhi.

He lay in a pool of blood, barely clinging to life.

Even his breathing was faint, almost imperceptible.

Liu Huohuo stood frozen in shock, while the disciples of the Celestial Mortal Holy Lands surrounded their fallen master, sobbing uncontrollably.

“If you want your Holy Lord to live,” Xu Zimo said, waving his hand, “step aside.”

He gently moved the crying disciples out of the way.

Shangguan Xian knelt beside Zhang Hengzhi and checked his condition.

After a brief examination, she sighed. “Unless there’s a heaven-defying elixir, there’s no saving him.”

“See?” Xu Zimo said calmly. “Your kindness is admirable, but your ability to act on it is pitifully weak.”

He grasped Zhang Hengzhi’s wrist and released his Life Force.

Xu Zimo possessed the Tree of Life, and he had inherited the legacy of the Wood God Jumuang.

In healing arts, as long as the soul hadn’t yet entered the Netherworld, he could bring someone back.

As the life force poured in, Zhang Hengzhi’s color gradually returned, and a faint breath stirred in his chest.

“Take care of the Celestial Mortal Holy Lands… for me…” Zhang Hengzhi murmured weakly in his unconscious state.

Even on the brink of death, his only concern was for his sect, and the young disciples who still depended on him.

The disciples wept harder.

“It’ll be better if you take care of them yourself,” Xu Zimo said.

Gradually, Zhang Hengzhi’s breathing steadied.

Xu Zimo stood up. “Let him rest. Don’t disturb him for now.”

Then he turned toward the arena, his gaze cold and steady.

Spectral Prince was walking down from the stage, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Is Holy Lord Zhang… going to be all right?” Shangguan Xian asked.

“He’ll live,” Xu Zimo replied. “His injuries won’t heal quickly, but his life is no longer in danger.”

He spoke with calm detachment, as if saving a life were nothing more than a small errand.

“Thank you,” Shangguan Xian said softly. “On behalf of his disciples.”

Xu Zimo nodded slightly.

“Let’s make a deal,” Shangguan Xian said.

“What kind of deal?”

“In the ing rounds, no matter which of us faces Spectral Prince,” she said seriously, “we kill him.”

“Oh?” Xu Zimo smiled. “So now your killing intent is as strong as mine? Have I rubbed off on you?”

“You’re right,” Shangguan Xian said firmly. “Some things can only be solved by killing.”

Her gaze turned sharp, her tone filled with the same cold fury that Xu Zimo often carried.

After a while, Xu Zimo’s own match was announced.

His opponent was a young man named Black Flood Dragon.

The man’s robe was made of crocodile hide. He had long, slanted bangs covering half his face, leaving only one visible eye, an eye that radiated murderous intent so thick it seemed Solarible.

In his hands, he held two short throwing knives, spinning them so fast that even the spectators couldn’t see them clearly.

“That’s Black Flood Dragon,” someone in the crowd whispered.

“I’ve heard of him,” another said. “Before the tournament started, I didn’t know his name. But yesterday, he fought a genius ranked fiftieth on the Myriad Flames List. The guy didn’t even last a single move, Black Flood Dragon chopped him into pieces.”

The listeners fell silent.

Clearly, this was another ruthless killer, a man who drew his blade only to kill, wasting no motion, no words.

As the referee shouted, “Begin!” Black Flood Dragon’s figure vanished into thin air.

His speed was incredible.

Before anyone in the audience could even register his movement, he was already behind Xu Zimo, slashing at his neck.

A metallic snap rang out.

Xu Zimo raised two fingers and caught the knife effortlessly.

Black Flood Dragon’s visible eye narrowed, its sharpness flaring even brighter.