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Yan Xiaobao sat in the center of his group in the arena, waiting for their turn in the next round of the competition. The match currently underway featured a team of five shielded fighters, among whom five powerful n were selected as victors.
Unfortunately for the opposing team, the masked fighters were not intimidated by their sheer size. After initiating the attack, Yan Xiaobao quickly discerned that most of the masked fighters were at the Master Level. Their cultivation base surely belonged to the high-end of Master Level.
Watching them, Yan Xiaobao knew that they might face each other later. Although he thought winning would be as easy as a walk in the park, he suddenly realized that even though these underground cultivators were only operating from the second cave, they were clearly far superior to surface cultivators.
Xu Hui reminded himself to later gather so information about these n from Xu Biao. Sitting in his chair, Yan Xiaobao’s gaze fell upon their leader. As if sensing this, the leader lifted his face and stared directly back at Yan Xiaobao.
No one else in the arena noticed this exchange. A hushed silence fell across the seats, with every spectator holding their breath in anticipation of what might happen between the two masked n. But just as the tension reached its zenith, the masked man looked away, raised his hand, and shouted sothing—words that Yueyue did not understand.
The mont he issued the command, the entire opposing team was beheaded within seconds. Blood sprayed onto the stage, causing Yan Xiaobao’s mouth to twitch as red fog churned within his body.
No one outside noticed any change. To them, Yan Xiaobao seed as cold as ever. But on the inside, Yan Xiaobao was struggling to suppress the red fog, his expression growing increasingly alard.
The arena was stunned into silence by the brutality and suddenness of the slaughter, a quiet that lasted for a long mont before erupting into loud cheers. The crowd reveled in the bloodshed they had just witnessed.
At this stage, there were still four active teams left in the competition. Yan Xiaobao and his group would face off in the final match of this round.
Originally, nine teams were selected as the strongest from rcenary Town, but four had already lost the previous day. Today, another team had fallen, leaving only four remaining. One of these teams had been granted a pass to the next day’s finals.
The tournant structure was as follows: all rcenary groups were divided into three tiers—weakest, average, and strongest. Each tier identified a winner within its group. Among the strongest tier, nine rcenary teams qualified to enter. Due to the odd number, one team would randomly skip each round of battles when teams faced off against each other.
The masked fighters had just been selected for the finals, leaving the last team to vie for the final spot in the ultimate match.
The final match of this round promised to be bloodier than any match before it, as it involved three teams facing off simultaneously. The team left standing would claim the championship. Such a fight all but guaranteed mass casualties, and even survivors would likely lose teammates.
The only reason Yan Xiaobao still wished to participate was his belief in his ability to protect his friends. If it amounted to a life-or-death situation, Yan Xiaobao felt assured of his strength due to the turbulence within his Dantian Cave, not to ntion Xie Lan’s powers and his own Speed Flow techniques, which should be enough to ensure the safety of his friends.
Given how rcenaries around the city targeted him, opting out of the finals would be pointless in many ways. Now was the ti to prove their strength and secure passage to the next tunnel system leading to the next city.
Today’s match was far simpler than those they’d faced before. It was single combat, with the first team to win three matches earning entry to the finals.
Knowing the battle’s nature, Yan Xiaobao decided he would start. His hope was to deal with all opponents himself, preserving his friends’ strength for the next day’s finals.
As the host announced their leader, who was fixated on Yan Xiaobao, the masked man swiftly left the stage, his eyes gleaming beneath his mask.
Yan Xiaobao showed no reaction to what he witnessed and instead focused on the stage of chaos flooded with dead rcenaries. Heads lay disconnected from their bodies, with blood splattered everywhere.
Whimpering sounds filled the air as won stepped onto the stage, crying as they gathered the heads of their loved ones.
Yan Xiaobao was struck by the resilience of those won. They had been watching from the start, yet they never scread or attempted to rush the stage to stop the slaughter. Not once did they direct hatred or sorrow toward the victors.
In so ways, Yan Xiaobao could not comprehend how anyone could stand by and accept the death of their loved ones. On the other hand, he could see that their strength was insufficient to save their loved ones or protect their families if they intervened. The only option left was the spiritual power that enabled them to endure their loved ones’ fate.
A brief intermission began where the stage, made of concrete but layered with sand to absorb blood and prevent slipping, was cleaned. Most of the blood-soaked sand was gathered and removed, replaced with a pristine new layer. The bodies were collected and returned to the fallen rcenaries’ hos.
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