Chapter Forty-Five: The Opening Warm-Up

Zuo Qi faced Feng Shang:

With a graceful leap, Zuo Qi soared onto the arena. Feng Shang spread his wings, stirring up a gust. For nearly half a quarter hour, Feng Shang lingered below the stage, holding a perfect pose, until the judge finally declared, “If you don’t get on the stage now, you’ll be considered defeated!”

Feng Shang quickly abandoned his pose and scrambled onto the platform. Zuo Qi eyed him with disdain, shaking his head.

“So what if you can fly? Doesn’t make you special!” Feng Shang retorted as he struck another stylish pose upon entering the stage.

Zuo Qi snorted coldly.

Black and white reversed, Zuo Qi unleashed his inversion ability—a storm surged toward Feng Shang.

Feng Shang’s face paled. “How are you using my technique?” he cried.

Zuo Qi replied with utter contempt, “Step down.”

The storm swept through, yet Feng Shang stood unmoving on the stage.

Feng Shang apologized, “Sorry, but I haven’t left yet!”

Zuo Qi’s eyes widened in surprise.

Feng Shang was quietly thrilled. “I’ve sparred against myself before. If I can’t even handle my own technique, what kind of ‘Feng Shang’ would I be?” Yet what excited him more was the realization that his opponent had used his own ability against him, but since his ability was relatively weak, it equally diminished his opponent’s attack.

“Hahaha!” Understanding this, Feng Shang’s confidence soared. “Turns out, even weakness has its advantages!”

Zuo Qi snorted again. “This is only the beginning.”

Xin Zhong faced Fang Zhe:

Fang Zhe was not so fortunate, for his opponent was an aggressive type.

Barely any warm-up, they plunged straight into battle. Xin Zhong raised his hand, pupils darkening, as the claws of death surged from all directions. “Burial!”

Fang Zhe had previously experienced Xin Zhong’s “Burial”—huge claws rose around him.

“I must scatter the claws before they fully form!” Fang Zhe strummed his strings, sending waves of sound rippling outward.

The claws dissipated, but Fang Zhe was left gasping, exhausted.

Boka faced Mao Xuanzi:

The two stood silently, neither making a move nor exchanging words.

Luo Ye faced Han Tianyue:

Luo Ye was deeply wary of Han Tianyue; after that fateful night, he understood what true terrifying power was.

Han Tianyue made no move. Luo Ye stood opposite, watching for any change.

Han Tianyue threw a punch; whether real or feigned, Luo Ye dodged every time.

Han Tianyue snorted coldly, thinking, “That night must have left him cautious of my abilities. Perfect—I’ll use his wariness to defeat him.”

Han Tianyue leapt forward, launching an icy blade toward Luo Ye.

Luo Ye grasped the fabric of space, twisting it—the ice blade veered off course.

“So that’s his ability: manipulating space!” His opponent was indeed formidable; Han Tianyue found him a tough adversary.

Gold medals, favorites, recommendations, clicks, comments, red envelopes, gifts—all requests, whatever you have, bring them on!