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墨書 Inktalez
Pain coursed through his body as if pierced by a thousand swords, and being enveloped in Blade Light felt like being scorched in a Sea of Fire, or thrown into a mountain of blades. Especially his hands, which were struck head-on by the Blade Light; they barely held on for a moment before the darkness faded, bones shattered, muscles scattered, almost severed completely.
His feet were slammed into the ground by an overwhelming force, and the Black Basalt constructed Competition Platform was crumbling under this moment, with stones breaking apart. Bu Yi's clothes were tattered and torn, blood gushing from his body, skin ripped open, with some wounds exposing white bone.
A fierce wind howled through the Competition Platform.
The massive Blade Light gradually dissipated after its initial explosive outburst, leaving behind a devastated ground and a figure drenched in blood.
Silence enveloped the Viewing Platform, the atmosphere tense; such brutal battles were rare in past Qualification Challenges.
Bu Ban knelt on the ground, utterly drained of strength, pain numbing him. His formidable recovery ability was waning at this moment, only able to provide minimal first aid to stop the bleeding.
He felt an insatiable hunger and an extreme desire to drink blood; it was a vampire's instinct.
Bu understood that due to his severe injuries, the cells within his body urgently needed nutritional energy, and only by drinking blood could he quickly recover from his wounds.
Focusing on his personal status bar, he noted his physical condition: Weak 18%.
He chuckled bitterly to himself and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Recently, he had been suffering from near-fatal injuries; this time was somewhat better, not as dire as being on the brink of death.
Bu Zha gritted his teeth and struggled to stand up; this movement took immense effort.
His hands were already broken, his body covered in wounds. As he struggled to rise, many injuries reopened, blood seeping out again. He stood unsteadily, swaying like a fragile sapling that could fall at any moment.
Bu had no idea how his sudden act of standing had stirred up a great wave among the spectators outside.
Everyone's eyes nearly popped out of their heads, mouths agape in shock, their expressions frozen in disbelief.
Even Wendy, who had been crying like a baby, now covered her mouth in astonishment with her tear-streaked face showing sheer shock.
Reynold sat on the ground, his mouth twitching slightly, his gaze somewhat dazed and utterly shocked.
Is this even human? There wasn't a single piece of good flesh on his body; his bones were almost exposed, and his hands were so broken that they could only weakly sway in the air. Yet this Fellow, this monstrous Fellow, could still stand.
The other seven competitors on the stone platform were frozen in shock, a chill creeping into their hearts. This Fellow was simply unkillable.
Sean Sterling pressed his hand against his forehead, staring with eyes full of disbelief; he had been completely conquered by Bu.
"Time is running out. I need to deal with that troublesome Fellow quickly. Otherwise, it will just end in a draw."
Bu Shuang's eyes flickered as he looked at Reynold, who was more than ten paces away, trembling as he stepped forward.
Everyone was astonished by Bu's formidable physique but had no idea what he was thinking at that moment; otherwise, they would have surely spat blood. Even in such a battered state, he still wanted to fight.
As Bu slowly approached, his figure appeared frail and even somewhat shaky, as if a gust of wind could knock him down. Yet deep inside Reynold arose an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
In this battle, he had used all his means and fought despite being gravely injured, but his opponent still hadn’t fallen. Reynold knew he had lost.
His strongest strike hadn’t defeated the opponent; given his current half-destroyed state, how could he possibly defeat him now?
With a silent sigh, Reynold's gaze returned to calmness.
He had lost, defeated by someone who had never even regarded him properly. However, he did not feel dejected; instead, there was a sense of relief and liberation.
All along, he had stood alone at the peak of the mountain, holding the title of the top youth in Sparta City, indulging in pleasures without restraint, feeling that defeat was hard to come by—arrogant and proud.
Now, with this defeat, he found what he sought and realized that he was not without rivals; many could stand as his opponents. However, his greatest enemy was himself.
Only by conquering himself could he walk further on the path of martial arts.
"I lost."
The low voice emerged from his mouth, and Reynold's expression was calm, his eyes bright. After coming to this realization, it seemed that winning or losing no longer mattered to him.
Bu paused in his steps, looking at Reynold with some surprise. In the other man's eyes, he saw no trace of emotional fluctuation; instead, there was only a sense of enlightenment.
"Reynold, truly the best among the younger generation of Sparta City." Bu sighed inwardly, filled with admiration.
High places are often lonely; masters are usually solitary and proud.
Like Reynold, who is renowned and carries many accolades, such talents are often high-minded. Once they face defeat, the impact of that setback is far greater than that experienced by a common person. Yet Reynold was able to quickly regain his composure, emerging from the immense blow of failure and bursting forth with even stronger determination.
Such a person, if not cut short in their journey, will surely become a powerful figure standing at the pinnacle in the future.
Reynold's admission of defeat marked the end of the entire competition.
Everyone watched as he fell to the ground, as if witnessing the conclusion of a myth.
Since four years ago, when Reynold broke through to Low-Level strength, he had become recognized as the foremost among the younger generation of Sparta City. At that time, he was only eighteen years old.
An eighteen-year-old Low-Level martial artist was an extremely rare existence in the entire Crook Duchy.
In over 600 years of ducal history, there have been very few who could match such talent. Even among the Twelve Great Cities and the imperial capital, there were only three young powerhouses comparable to Reynold.
Although there are many young strong individuals at Low-Level throughout Crook Duchy, those who can reach this level at eighteen years old are truly one in ten thousand.
This represents potential and depth. The earlier one reaches a higher realm, the stronger their potential and deeper their foundation. This is also why there can be significant disparities in actual combat power among individuals of the same rank.
Many speculate that with Reynold's foundation, he may have already touched upon the threshold of Intermediate level and could break through to Intermediate within the next few years.
At that time, he was only five years old. A five-year-old Intermediate powerhouse, even among many intermediate dynasties, he was one of the top figures of the younger generation.
Such a Exquisite Reynold, the pride of the people of Sparta City, was defeated today by a youth two years his junior, an obscure young man.
In the entire Gladiatorial Arena, no one cheered; perhaps under this oppressive atmosphere, they had lost their will to cheer.
Reynold was strong, truly talented. However, his opponent Brent was even stronger, a prodigy among talents.
When talent and prodigy clashed, the process was spectacular and intense, leaving everyone in awe. Yet the outcome was even more astonishing.
Perhaps prodigies cannot be measured by common standards, as their actions and strength always exceed everyone's expectations. Brent was such a prodigy; despite everyone doubting him in his dire situation, he managed to turn the tide again and again, surprising everyone and escaping from peril repeatedly.
Even now, he still stood there, though his body was battered and bruised, fragile as if it would fall with a gust of wind. Yet this seemingly weak figure appeared so radiant at this moment that no one dared to look away.
First place! A title well-deserved!
“Brent wins, earning one point for a total of seven points. Reynold loses, losing one point for a total of five points.”
Sean Sterling calmed himself and announced the result of the match. In his strange white pupils reflected Brent's battered figure.
This frail figure, resilient like a solitary pine on a cliff, brought him a sense of astonishment and curiosity.
A low and obscure magical incantation emerged from Sean Sterling's mouth as green light swirled around the wand in his hand, resembling flickering fireflies in the night. Moments later, two beams of green light shot out from the wand and instantly enveloped Brent and Reynold.
Fourth-Level Magic — Withered Tree Blossoms in Spring.
The green radiance wrapped around Brent, soft and gentle like water; under its cleansing glow, he felt incredibly comfortable. The once searing pain from his wounds turned into a refreshing coolness.
Cells within his body seemed to leap with joy as some tissues shed and were reborn. The green light flowed into his wounds like a fountain of life; his skin regained vitality while his muscles became filled with elasticity.
The sudden wave of comfort made Bu feel incredibly happy, as if he had just broken through to a new level, enveloped in a white light, feeling light as a feather, like he had transformed into the wind, meeting the white clouds and embracing the blue sky.
The entire healing process lasted for a minute. When the green light faded, Bu was still immersed in a euphoric sensation, unable to pull himself away.
Slowly, Bu opened his eyes and was astonished to find that the pain in his body seemed to have completely vanished, with only the bones in his hands still not fully recovered, causing a faint ache.
He focused on his personal status panel. Physical condition: Light injury 71%.
Hiss! Bu gasped in shock.
At this moment, he finally understood the power of magic; it was truly supernatural.
With injuries as severe as his just now, even with a vampire's formidable recovery ability, it would take three or four days to heal. Yet, under the spell cast by a mage, such serious injuries had healed significantly in just a moment.
While this was also related to Sean Sterling's powerful magic at Intermediate Level 5, this reverse supernatural force was still awe-inspiring and enviable.
With his injuries mostly healed, Bu respectfully thanked Sean Sterling and stepped down from the Competition Platform.
Many gazes followed his figure. Under those intense stares, Bu felt considerable pressure. Now he understood the meaning of the saying "fame brings trouble," as those eyes could be deadly.
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