The Arena World had gone eerily silent.
The smell of dried blood lingered in the wind, drifting through broken trees and cracked earth. The twisted tree stood alone in the wasteland, its blackened bark curling like burnt paper, its crooked branches clawing at a dim, grey sky.
Beneath its shadow, Qing Jianrui and Lan Xiuqing waited. They had been resting here after the slaughter, their presence alone making the air heavy. They believed no one else remained alive until Lan Xiuqing's eyes narrowed.
"Someone's coming," she said, her voice like a ripple through still water.
Qing Jianrui rose slowly, stretching his fingers as though limbering for the inevitable.
"Then let's welcome him," he murmured.
From the shattered distance, a lone figure approached Mike. Dust clung to his boots with every step, and though his pace was steady, there was something in his eyes that refused to bow.
In the viewing stands, Jing Xu, Mo Liang, Han Rui, Jian Dao, and Huo Chuntian leaned forward, expressions shifting from shock to disbelief.
"Mike…" Jian Dao's voice was tight, low. "Please… don't die."
Qing Jianrui stepped away from the tree, his tone mocking.
"What a good day. Tell me are you alone?"
Mike's gaze flicked between the two. "First, who are you? And where are the others?"
Lan Xiuqing chuckled, a sound too sweet for the weight of her words.
"They fought each other. Some were torn apart by the beasts roaming here…" her tone shifted, turning razor-sharp, "…but most… most of the thousands were killed by our hands. And now, you will join them."
Mike's lips curled into the faintest of smirks. "Don't be overconfident."
From the guest stage, Jing Xu shook her head. "What's wrong with that brat? Those two have killed nearly everyone in there. This is a one-sided fight." She looked to Mo Liang and Han Rui. "He's not capable of killing them. Not with that rank."
Qing Jianrui tilted his head. "First, introduce yourself."
"Mike."
Qing Jianrui's smile widened. "Mike… you're more arrogant than us. Let's see how long that lasts."
Jing Xu muttered, "He has only two options live or die."
Mike's expression darkened. "I'm not arrogant. I don't seek deadly fights or wars. But fate and destiny always seems to interfere with my life. So what can I do?" His voice sharpened. "If we're going to fight, then come both at once."
In the stands, Jian Dao exhaled slowly. He's calm. He's thinking ahead. He knows they're Wang Zhe ranked, far above him.
Huo Chuntian's voice rumbled from within Jian Dao. Don't lose your temper. I believe in him. He'll win.
Qing Jianrui's laugh was sharp and deep. "A Dou Ba 8-star talking like that? Fine. If you were born from a real father and a true mother, then prove it!"
The words hit something deep inside Mike. His body tensed, and for a brief heartbeat, rage consumed him. Doubting my very existence…
Jian Dao frowned. "What's he talking about?"
"Not your reaction," Huo Chuntian murmured, "that's Mike's. Let him fight."
Mike's eyes locked on them, voice low and cutting. "How dare you speak of my parents… you bastards. I'll kill you both."
Lan Xiuqing smirked. "Dear, I think you pressed his on-switch."
Qing Jianrui laughed.
Mike drew his hammer in one smooth motion, but Lan Xiuqing was already moving her speed a blur, her steps weaving around him like a hunting predator. Yet Mike's eyes tracked her without strain. He had mastered seventy percent of his technique, his speed honed sharp.
With a burst of Sea Snake Flame, he swung. The hammer's strike landed, drawing blood small injuries, but enough to make the crowd stir in shock.
"How?" one elder muttered. "He struck her so easily…"
Qing Jianrui's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint forming. "So… you're one of the three who stole that flame from my family."
Mike tilted his head. "Ah, so you're the chief of the Qing family. Then you know Qing Jian Lanyu she led that mission. But she and her elders were weak. That's why they couldn't take the flame."
Mo Liang leaned forward. "So Mike wasn't alone here… he lied. He has partners. But who?"
Jing Xue's gaze flicked to the masked man in the crowd. "That one's probably one of them. The second? I don't know."
Lan Xiuqing's lips tightened. "I didn't expect this from you."
Mike's voice was flat. "You're stubborn… and unbeaten. But I think your time's up."
She lunged, and the air cracked as the battle began.
The battlefield's air hung heavy, carrying the scent of frost and tension. A pale mist coiled between the twisted tree roots and jagged boulders below, as if the land itself was holding its breath for what would come next. Above, the thin clouds drifted lazily until Lan Xiuqing's voice cut through the silence.
Her hands swept through the air, painting graceful arcs that glistened in the sunlight. Droplets shimmered, merging into a spiraling vortex whose heart pulsed with pale blue light.
The Pure Orchid Spiral a deadly dance of water, famed for its elegance and destruction whirled like a living creature, twisting tighter and tighter as it bore down on Mike.
Mike's boots scraped against cracked stone. His eyes narrowed, and his breath fogged in the chilled air. A faint, almost mocking smile curved his lips.
"Nice trick," he murmured.
Cold gathered in his palm instantly, the frost spiraling into the serpentine form of the Ice Python Flame a strange union of biting cold and scorching heat. The python's scales shimmered, each one glowing faintly with white blue light.
The Pure Orchid Spiral surged toward him with a sound like rushing waves. Mike's arm thrust forward, sending the python roaring silently into the vortex. Frost clamped down, seizing the water's flow in a heartbeat. The whirl's grace turned rigid, its currents locked in jagged crystalline beauty.
With a soft crack, a hairline fracture split the frozen spiral.
Boom!
The sculpture shattered, scattering the sky with a storm of glittering shards. They rained down in a thousand glints, catching the sun like fragments of winter glass, each sliver cutting the light into razor edges.
From the guest platform, the crowd gasped. Even Qing Jianrui's confident eyes flickered just for a heartbeat.
"This flame… impossible," he muttered to himself.
To Lan Xiuqing, it felt like a shadow from her nightmares the Ice Flame of Ice Valley. But she didn't know Mike's was no ordinary Ice Flame, it was the Ice Dragon Flame in its lower form, born from his Sea Dragon Flame and tempered during the Frostgrave Doomsway's mastery.
In the stands, Jing Xu's fingers tightened around the railing.
"Ice Valley… did they send him?" she whispered.
Jian Dao only exhaled slowly. "He finally uses it here… trouble will follow."
Qing Jianrui shook his head sharply, burying his flicker of doubt under a grin.
"Flame or no flame… I won't back away. Whether you win or I win, I will not run."
The air between them snapped taut. Qing Jianrui lunged, fists flashing like streaks of steel. Mike met him head on, their blows cracking the very space, ripples shivering through the air like disturbed water. The sound of knuckles striking forearms, of kicks meeting parries, rang like hammers on anvils.
Mike was holding, but each hit pushed his muscles to the brink. Then Lan Xiuqing dove in again, her movements as fluid as silk, yet as lethal as a blade's edge. The two Wang Zhe ranked cultivators attacked in unison, forcing Mike into a desperate rhythm of parries and dodges.
He spotted a gap, and drove his Mountain Shatter Hammer downward. The ground trembled violently, jagged cracks racing out like spiderwebs. But their spiritual defenses held strong, absorbing the force with minimal damage. Mike's brows knit; sheer power wasn't enough.
Then Qing Jianrui's stance shifted. His palms pressed together, eyes flaring with an unnatural blue glow. Above them, the sky seemed to split apart, the clouds pulling away to reveal burning fragments descending from beyond.
Azure Meteor Descent Technique.
Molten boulders streaked downward, wrapped in blazing azure fire. Each carried a tail of light that hissed through the air like the roar of a falling star.
At the same time, Lan Xiuqing's hands blurred weaving a hundred gestures faster than the eye could follow. From her fingertips burst a swarm of Water Spindles, spinning needle like projectiles so thin they vanished in the mist until they flashed with deadly silver light.
The two attacks merged meteors crashing down while silver spindles wove between them, a storm of fire and water sharpened to kill.
Mike's instincts screamed Move! But his body was a half beat too slow.
The first meteor slammed into the ground beside him, blasting shards of molten rock across his side. The spindles followed, piercing through gaps in his guard cold agony biting into his flesh. The next meteor hit square on, knocking him into the air before another slammed him into the earth.
BOOM!
A shockwave tore through the arena, hurling dust, flame, and icy mist into the air. For long moments, the battlefield vanished in a roaring haze.
When it began to clear, a still figure lay amid fractured stone. Thin cracks veined the ground beneath him. The air reeked of scorched dust and wet stone. Mike's chest heaved; each breath was jagged. Blood traced a red line from the corner of his mouth to his chin.
A trembling hand reached for his storage ring.
Clink.
Five tier recovery pills spilled into his palm. He bit down on it at once, the bitter powder scraping his throat. Heat spread through his meridians, knitting torn muscle, pushing broken bone back into place. But it couldn't erase the deeper damage not yet.
Still, his eyes burned, steady and unbroken. He pushed himself upright, first to his knees, then to his feet. His breath steamed in the cold air, shoulders squaring once more. The crowd saw a battered man standing where he should have fallen a shadow of defiance refusing to break.
Though his body bled… his will did not.