As the two curved blades came whirling like a storm, the one-eyed man sneered with disdain. He gently tapped his right foot on the ground, and the large saber on his back flew into his hand.
It was a broad saber, about half a meter wide, with two gear-like grooves along its blade.
Unlike Mu Zhoubai’s swift style, the one-eyed man’s moves were bold and heavy, carrying the aura of an unstoppable force.
Their blades clashed, sparking with each impact.
Mu Zhoubai’s expression shifted slightly. He could feel the strength from his opponent’s blade, it was even greater than his own.
He quickly stabilized his stance, dodging continuously, and attacked with a barrage of tight, seamless strikes.
“Junior Brother Mu’s attacks are agile and unpredictable, but he lacks raw power,” Liu Rufeng observed.
“But although the opponent is strong, he lacks speed and technique. It’s still too early to call the outcome.”
On stage, both fighters unleashed fierce blows.
As time passed, the one-eyed man began to grow anxious.
Mu Zhoubai moved like an eel, he couldn’t even land a hit. Meanwhile, he had already suffered several light injuries from Mu’s sharp strikes.
“Is dodging all you can do?” the one-eyed man shouted angrily.
“Cross Slash Execution!” Mu Zhoubai sneered as the man left an opening.
His two curved blades crossed together, forming a cross.
At that moment, his figure seemed to merge with the void, everything in the world vanished except the cross-shaped blades. Mu himself disappeared.
Before the one-eyed man could react, there was a loud boom. The cross blades slammed directly into his chest.
Blood splattered as the blades pierced through his torso and emerged from the back.
Mu Zhoubai reappeared behind him, holding the crossed blades coldly, eyes fixed on the dying man.
“H-How...” the one-eyed man looked down at his chest wound before collapsing. His body was instantly torn apart.
“Victory in the Hundred-Tier Match: Mu Zhoubai,” the judge said calmly from the side.
As a judge here, he had long grown numb to death.
People died here every day, locals and outsiders alike. Life had little value in this place.
Guards came to drag the corpse away. The judge looked at Mu Zhoubai and asked, “You’ve won 80 Fusion Stones. Do you want to continue?”
“Why not?” Mu Zhoubai replied with a faint smile.
Beside the arena stood an opulent restaurant named Hero Tower.
The first four were open to anyone with money. The fifth required status. The sixth was reserved for true champions.
It was said that only those who won 100 matches in the arena could qualify to enter the sixth floor of Hero Tower.
At that moment, on the fifth floor of Hero Tower, divided into private rooms with panoramic views of the arena below, a prime spot for watching the fights:
“Young Master, they’ve all gone to the arena,” a servant reported as Nuyang drank wine.
“They won?” Nuyang walked to the window and asked flatly.
“They won one match. They're in the hundred-tier group,” the servant replied respectfully.
“Send Withered Bones in for the next round,” Nuyang said casually.
“Young Master, that might not be appropriate. We rarely interfere with the arena’s matches,” the servant hesitated.
“Fu, are you questioning my orders now?” Nuyang turned, smiling.
“I wouldn’t dare. I’ll arrange it immediately,” the servant quickly bowed and left.
On the arena stage, Mu Zhoubai waited for a long time.
Just as he grew impatient, the underground gate opened, and an old man stepped out.
The surrounding crowd fell silent in shock.
“Ancestor Withered Bones? Isn’t he usually in the ten-thousand-tier fights? What’s he doing in the hundred-tier?”
“Maybe someone pissed him off,” another person guessed.
“Whatever the reason, that kid’s in trouble.”
“Not necessarily. Just surrender if you run into Withered Bones. Worst case, you lose a few Fusion Stones.”
The audience buzzed with chatter, clearly, Ancestor Withered Bones had a fearsome reputation.
He usually fought in the ten-thousand-tier matches, where each win earned 10,000 Fusion Stones. He never even glanced at the hundred-tier level.
He wore a large black robe that covered his entire body.
As he walked, his steps made a sharp creaking sound, like bones grinding.
“Give up. That man is dangerous,” Huangfu Xianyue warned from below.
“But with Junior Brother Mu’s temperament, I doubt he’ll surrender so easily,” Fang Xiang said.
Mu Zhoubai stared at the old man in front of him, then slowly drew his twin blades.
Gripping tightly, his aura gradually intensified.
With a loud roar, he stepped back with one foot and launched forward, cracking the floor beneath him.
As he charged, Ancestor Withered Bones kept his head down, completely still.
The distance between them closed.
Suddenly, the old man looked up.
His face, hidden beneath the robe, came into view, sunken and pale with not an ounce of flesh.
Worse still, he had no eyes, only two faint blue flames in their place.
The moment Mu Zhoubai saw those flames, it was as if thunder struck him. He froze in place.
“Not good, soul attack!” Liu Rufeng stood up in alarm.
Ancestor Withered Bones gave a cruel smile. He raised his right hand, palm upward, and flicked his index finger.
A loud boom echoed. The arena floor beneath Mu Zhoubai exploded, and a massive white bone burst upward.
It pierced through his back, impaling him on the bone like a skewer.
Blood sprayed into the air. Mu Zhoubai hung limp on the spike, unconscious, his fate uncertain.
The blood-stained bone was a gruesome sight. The rest of the group’s expressions turned grim.
“This guy... He’s not even in the same league,” Fang Xiang said.
“I think you’ve misunderstood something,” Xu Zimo added. “Among the younger generation, you are indeed the strongest disciples. Within your age group, few can match you. But on this arena stage, age doesn’t matter. Those older than you can still easily defeat you.”
Hearing that, Liu Rufeng took a deep breath and began walking toward the arena.