Chapter 93: The Arena of the Flame Descendants (Part Two)

Only after the look of shock had just begun to appear on her face, the change had already taken place. Hua Wushu, who had been cleaved into two, split into two Hua Wushus and lunged toward Cong Yue. Cong Yue brought his blade down and split Hua Wushu in half, but before the force of the strike had fully faded, before he had recovered his strength, he saw Hua Wushu already at his side. In terror, he was too late to retreat. With a clang, he dropped his weapon and sent both fists flying at Hua Wushu.

He had clearly seen his fists strike the other man’s body, yet Cong Yue felt as though he had punched cotton. A chill of foreboding shot through him. Before he could draw back, both his arms were seized. He let out a scream as Hua Wushu ripped both arms clean off his body, blood gushing from the severed stumps like fountains.

Cong Yue was vicious enough himself. After that single cry when his arms were torn away, he made no further sound. Instead, he sprinted for the edge of the arena. Reaching the rim, he gathered himself and leapt down. Though he had lost both arms, he had at least kept his life.

Forfeit under pressure was the sort of act that would normally provoke outrage and loud complaint from the spectators and judges, yet strangely, neither the people of the Flame-Blooded clan nor their judges, renowned for their ferocity and love of battle, seemed the least bit surprised.

Ji Mo was baffled. Then she saw another transformation on the arena. Hua Wushu cast a contemptuous glance at Cong Yue, who had already fled beyond the platform, then turned his gaze to the two severed arms in his hands. Leaning down, he began to suck fiercely at the fresh flesh he was holding.

Ji Mo felt a chill rise from the depths of her heart. Hua Wushu was far too savage: not only did he rip others apart with his bare hands, he even devoured their flesh and blood. He was like this even toward his own kind. If he faced outsiders, who knew what other cruel methods he would employ? Sensing her unease, Geng Xiao turned his head and glanced at her. “What is it? Frightened?”

“Not frightened exactly,” Ji Mo said with a frown, watching Hua Wushu on the platform as he sucked blood from his mouth. “I just cannot understand how someone could have such a strange habit—actually eating human flesh raw.”

“What is strange about it? This Hua Wushu fellow probably possesses some special bloodline of the demon race. And this kind of demon happens to love feeding on the flesh and blood of sapient beings.” Geng Xiao seemed thoroughly accustomed to such things, showing no surprise at all.

Ji Mo glanced at him in silence and could not help feeling that she truly had too little experience. Many things that seemed perfectly ordinary to them were things she still could not adapt to. To survive in the cultivation world with such a temperament would likely not be easy. She let out a faint inward sigh.

In the time it took to exchange a few words, the two arms had already been gnawed down to nothing by Hua Wushu. Perhaps his reputation was too notorious; after he finished devouring the arms in his hands, no one stepped onto the arena for a full cup of tea. Ji Mo watched in secret astonishment. Wasn’t the Flame-Blooded clan supposed to be famously brave and fearless? How was it that the moment they encountered a bloodthirsty madman like Hua Wushu, no one dared go up?

Just as she was wondering, she saw a youth dressed in blue martial robes step lightly onto the arena. The Flame-Blooded clan’s qi cultivators were generally young, and this newcomer was likewise only seventeen or eighteen. He was at the eleventh level of qi refinement, while his body tempering had already reached the fifth realm beyond mortality.

The moment Hua Wushu saw this youth, his pupils contracted sharply. He licked his lips and said, “Mo Fan, I never expected you to come up so soon. What, are you afraid I’ve eaten too many people and are rushing up to drive me down?”

“Hua Wushu, go down on your own. If I have to do it, I may kill you.” The youth called Mo Fan spoke calmly. His looks were unremarkable, and compared with the Flame-Blooded clan, his build was not even tall. Yet as he stood casually on the arena, he somehow pressed down the terrifying aura around Hua Wushu.

“Ji Mo, this kid is your great rival.” The instant Geng Xiao saw Mo Fan, his eyes narrowed slightly and he spoke in a low voice. Judging from this boy’s combat strength, he felt that even if he suppressed his cultivation to the early Foundation Establishment stage, he might not be able to defeat him. Truly terrifying.

Ji Mo nodded. There was no need to probe with blows; evenly matched opponents were often recognized without formal combat, sensed by intuition alone. The moment Mo Fan stepped onto the platform, Ji Mo knew he was a formidable rival.

“Heh-heh, Mo Fan, you are hailed as the greatest genius among the qi-refining disciples of my Flame-Blooded clan, yet today you are willing to come up for the sake of someone like me, a man abandoned by his own people. I am honored. If I could die by your hand, I would have no regrets. But if all you possess is empty fame, I will surely drain your blood and flesh to feed my bloodline.”

With a cold laugh, Hua Wushu’s ice-blue eyes turned blood-red, filled with madness and stubborn obsession.

“In that case, begin.” Mo Fan did not waste words. His expression remained calm.

Hua Wushu gave a sharp cry, and a fire-red curved blade as thin as a cicada’s wing appeared in his hand. A streak of red flashed across the air, and one half of the arena was instantly shrouded in a blood mist. Mo Fan’s figure vanished from sight.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The spectators heard only several dull, heavy impacts. Then the blood mist burst apart, the red light dispersed, and Mo Fan stood motionless at the center of the arena, his expression serene. Hua Wushu lay sprawled on the ground, the strange crimson curved blade resting quietly beside him. In his left chest was a blood hole as large as a bowl.

“Cough, cough... Mo Fan, you truly are the greatest genius among the qi-refining disciples of my Flame-Blooded clan. Hahaha... to die at the hands of the clan’s greatest genius, I have no regrets. No regrets at all!” Hua Wushu stared at Mo Fan and laughed wildly, coughing blood even as he laughed. His unrestrained laughter and the blood continually spilling from his mouth formed a scene of tragic beauty beyond the power of words to describe.

Hua Wushu’s laughter lasted for a full cup of tea’s time. Only then did it gradually ebb away, becoming faint and inaudible. The arena fell silent. Without Ji Mo realizing it, a trace of moisture had appeared at the corner of her eye. Earlier, she had only seen Hua Wushu tear off Cong Yue’s two arms and devour raw flesh, and had thought him unbearably cruel. Yet now, watching him die in such a free and flamboyant manner, she seemed to glimpse in that final burst of laughter all the grievances, all the desolation he had never been able to voice.

“Just a pitiful man, that’s all.” Ji Mo’s voice was barely audible. Neither Geng Xiao nor Bai Ze standing beside her could make out what she had murmured.

Hua Wushu’s death caused no attention beyond the faint, inexplicable sadness Ji Mo felt. His body was quickly carried off the arena, and the next to ascend was a beautiful young girl in green. She was the complete opposite of Hua Wushu; if he could be likened to a bloodthirsty demon, she was like a sprite who had stepped out of the full bloom of spring.

To be continued...