Gladiator Arena of the Empty Tower Chapter Sixty-One: Battle, Part Three

After donning the hockey mask, Li Xiaojing’s appearance seemed to resemble a crazed killer from a horror film even more. Of course, from another perspective, a hockey mask and a baseball bat were nothing but ordinary sports equipment—perfectly suited to her image as an athletic girl.

After a whole day of fighting, sweat and blood had rendered her clothes somewhat unpleasant. Perhaps, to certain people, the scent of a beautiful girl’s sweat might be an aphrodisiac, but for the girl herself, it was anything but. Li Xiaojing was actually very fond of cleanliness; she showered after every run or game. Now, after ten hours of exertion, with her body covered in sweat and blood, she felt distinctly uncomfortable.

Lu Fu stepped into the arena, surrounded by a ring of light. “Heh, little miss, we meet again.”

Li Xiaojing gripped her baseball bat, remaining silent. Truth be told, she was under quite a lot of pressure—according to Wu Hui’s analysis, escaping the Sky Tower’s death match was beyond her current abilities.

By the eighth floor, practically everyone she encountered was either her equal or stronger. The ninth and tenth floors would be even worse. Her chances of victory were vanishingly small; it all came down to luck.

Each game restored one’s stamina and health, but not mental stress. Moving forward seemed almost impossible.

Her sister cheered her on through telepathy.

A grenade flew out, only to be smashed apart by Lu Fu’s fist. In the ensuing flash, he charged at Li Xiaojing with murderous intent.

Neither of them were the type to take advantage of environmental traps—their battle began the instant they met.

Gunfire proved useless again, forcing Li Xiaojing to swing her bat. She still hadn’t figured out the mechanics of Lu Fu’s shield, but it appeared ineffective against melee attacks.

In truth, activating the shield consumed much of Lu Fu’s energy and prevented him from attacking. He only used it to block bullets at a distance. If she kept firing, she’d notice his defensive capabilities drop sharply.

This was why Lu Fu always acted fearless in the face of gunfire—to mislead his opponents. So far, the tactic had worked exceedingly well; his foes inevitably chose close combat.

But it wasn’t a complete success.

After Xule, Zhao Xingluan, now he faced a third opponent who surpassed him in close quarters.

The girl and her shadow danced around him, swinging their bats from two directions. Even with an agility-boosting aura, Lu Fu couldn’t defend both his front and back.

Li Xiaojing’s physical strength matched his, though her fighting skills were slightly weaker. But she had two bodies—that was her greatest advantage.

Fending off attacks from two directions put Lu Fu under immense pressure. Gritting his teeth, he defended as best he could, landing a punch on Li Xiaojing’s head—only for it to be absorbed by her mask. The shadow’s bat came crashing down, shattering Lu Fu’s shoulder and rendering his fist useless.

“I surrender!” Lu Fu declared, conceding before his head could be smashed in. One more death and his points would be depleted.

Li Xiaojing returned to the rest area, removed her mask, and began massaging her face.

She, too, would head to the ninth floor next. If Wu Hui lost, she would likely meet him there again. If Wu Hui won, it seemed Zhao Xingluan was completely out of her league.

At once, the girl was plagued by indecision.

Li Xiaoyue also worried for her sister. A level-two player entering a level-three game faced slim odds of victory.

“Loading map: Mechanical Maze (Large).”

Based on Wu Hui’s speculations and conversations with other challengers on his way, the tenth floor was the final level. Anyone who made it there would either be level three or a formidable level two.

He was still too weak, but this was only his fourth game, so his progress was naturally slow. If he encountered a few more level-three or level-four games, perhaps he could improve more quickly.

Playing above one’s level was both a danger and an opportunity.

Walking through a world of steel and steam, Wu Hui arrived at a factory.

The city seemed abandoned for years; dust and kerosene had fused into ugly stains, and the steel plates were caked in red rust.

Yet the place seemed operational.

“It doesn’t feel like a world conjured out of thin air, but more like a city built by a civilization—one where, overnight, all residents vanished, leaving only ruins behind.” Wu Hui muttered as he moved through the dim factory.

All signs suggested the factory had been shut down for over half a year.

He flipped a switch; the machines clanked and sputtered before coming to life. The conveyor belts started moving, and enormous hammers rose and fell, powered by steam and gears.

“This could come in handy,” Wu Hui murmured. “I wonder what the fuel source is.”

He planned to scavenge some fuel and use explosive packs to craft new bombs. He only had two nightmare bombs left—not nearly enough to face a level-three player.

In truth, Wu Hui might have overestimated level-three players. Low-level players could be taken down by an ordinary person with a handgun.

Levels one to four were considered novice, five to seven intermediate, eight to ten advanced. Beyond level ten, players felt almost otherworldly—some even communicated directly with demons and gods.

Before level five, players might possess some special abilities, but still fell within the range of what the police or a small military unit could handle. At the intermediate stage, the government might need tens of thousands to counter them. Against advanced players, conventional human weaponry was nearly useless; wiping one out might cost an entire city.

As for top-tier players, there was too little data to make an estimate.

But to return to the point: at the novice stage, the gap between players wasn’t as vast as it seemed.

By making smart use of environmental mechanisms, defeating a stronger opponent wasn’t impossible.

The factory’s steam engines didn’t use any earthly fuel, but the black substance was probably chemically similar to petroleum. Then again, Wu Hui’s reasoning felt shaky—there might well be some supernatural force at play.

He gathered plenty of bomb materials, setting them around the area to be detonated later with throwing knives.

He decided to run a test first.

If he could lure his opponent here for a fight, all the better. If not, he’d drag things out.

He had food and water in his pocket, and thanks to rewards from the previous game, could endure hunger and thirst longer than his adversaries. A prolonged battle held no fears for him.

His saber-wolves and farmers went out to scout. An explosion echoed from the factory’s outskirts. Wu Hui began to arrange his traps.

He felt like a spider weaving a web, lying in wait for his prey. He retrieved his spider emblem, lost in thought. He’d been considering whether to join the organization after reaching level five, and now it seemed his style truly suited the name ‘Spider.’

PS: Today’s update—fever’s gone, but the runny nose persists.