When the two rusty blades descended from the sky, the burly prisoner lunged forward and seized the one before him. He swung it with a sharp, menacing whoosh that sliced through the air.
Liu Wuxie stepped up to the other blade and gripped its handle firmly. It carried no trace of spiritual energy, merely an ordinary weapon. The edge was dull, able to wound but not kill in a single strike. That was deliberate, as a swift death would ruin the entertainment.
When his eyes met the burly man's, a wave of fighting spirit rippled between them. From the stands, the slaves rose to their feet, cheering and roaring.
The arena opened only once a month, and the spectacle was one of the few entertainments on Anlu Star. Beyond the mines, astral beasts roamed freely, making such moments precious.
After taking over from his predecessor, Yu Wentai built this arena for precisely that purpose, granting the slaves one day off each month to watch bloodsport and ease the strain of endless underground labor.
The burly man advanced and slashed at Liu Wuxie's right arm. His swing carried brutal strength, the blade tearing through the air with a hiss. Yu Wentai had bought prisoners like him elsewhere; some were caught stealing astral stones, and he threw them all into the underground prison.
Combat in the Astral Domain proved fiercer than Liu Wuxie had anticipated, favoring offense over defense. With a quick sidestep, he evaded the attack, letting the blade bite into the ground. Stone shattered, scattering fragments toward him.
The man was no novice—he had fought in the arena before. Spotting the chain on Liu Wuxie's left leg, he targeted the unshackled side, tightening the noose on Liu Wuxie's movement. This was a deathmatch. Only one would walk away.
Strike after strike fell, cutting off every escape route. A single lapse could mean death.
"Strongman's Whirlwind Eighteen Slashes is more formidable than before. Can that brat survive all eighteen strikes?" Yu Wentai asked idly, accepting fresh fruit from the maids beside him.
"Unlikely," Liu An replied.
The burly man bore the nickname "Strongman" for his prodigious strength. His self-created Whirlwind Eighteen Slashes had claimed over a dozen lives. He had defeated every opponent he faced.
"This kid isn't simple," Yu Wentai muttered, chewing slowly as his eyes narrowed to slits. As a cultivator in the Origin Conversion Realm, his perception far surpassed that of anyone in the Transcendent Realm. That realm merely stripped away mortal limitations—it did not yet make one a true cultivator.
"So what if he's not simple? He's not even in the Heaven Profound Realm, but Strongman's in the high levels of the Heaven Profound Realm, with natural brute strength. Let's see how long he can keep dodging," Liu An said, not daring to refute Yu Wentai.
"You're too naive," Yu Wentai replied mildly, unoffended. Their bond had long surpassed the bounds of master and servant.
The tenth slash came, the blade sweeping so close to Liu Wuxie's head that it nearly took it off. Silence fell over the audience. All held their breath, unwilling to miss the moment.
Liu Wuxie's speed was hindered by the chain on his left foot, restricting his movement range to thirty meters. Strongman pressed relentlessly, leaving him with no space to maneuver.
The eleventh strike followed instantly, each blow linked seamlessly to the next. Liu Wuxie had to admit—the Whirlwind Eighteen Slashes was deadly, honed through countless life-and-death battles.
Strongman's blade swept toward his neck. One mistake, and he would be decapitated.
In the stands, He Yingwu clenched his fists in frustration. The audience, however, remained unmoved—this was sport to them.
Just as the blade was about to land, Liu Wuxie flipped mid-air. The chain binding his left foot twisted around his body, a seemingly suicidal move. In the nick of time, he completed his rotation, and Strongman's slash struck the chain at his waist instead of flesh. Sparks burst as iron clashed against iron.
"This brat tried to use the chain to block the blade? How ridiculous!" Liu An sneered, convinced Liu Wuxie had hoped the attack would sever his restraint.
With another twist, however, the chain loosened, and Liu Wuxie landed behind Strongman; their positions were now reversed. The crowd roared in shock at the flawless execution.
He aimed not to break the chain but to switch positions. He calculated every movement with precision—one misstep, and Strongman's attack would have cut him in two. By then, even if he survived, he would lose all power. Ironically, the chain had saved him.
He Yingwu's heart nearly stopped at the sheer audacity of the maneuver. Even Strongman stepped back in surprise.
Chen Gang shot to his feet, baffled that Liu Wuxie had deflected the fatal strike. Only Yu Wentai understood—Liu Wuxie had read the Whirlwind Eighteen Slashes' trajectory and predicted the next blow.
However, a single miscalculation could have cost him his life.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Liu Wuxie tapped lightly and soared again, every move smooth as flowing water.
Even Liu An, intent on killing him, was forced to admire his skill. With his left foot chained, Liu Wuxie had turned a disadvantage into a weapon.
Strongman failed to react, caught off guard. When the iron blade closed to a meter, he leapt forward in desperation.
Liu Wuxie sneered coldly and shifted half a meter forward with the Spatial Dao Art. Though he could not manipulate space freely here, half a meter was enough. His iron blade tore into Strongman's back, leaving a deep gash. The dull edge spared him from cleaving in two.
Blood gushed from the wound, the metallic scent filling the air. Strongman roared in pain, spinning to bring his blade down on Liu Wuxie's head. The swing stirred a storm of dust.
"Strongman has gone mad!" the slaves shouted, leaping up for a better view.
The ferocity of the strike left Liu Wuxie little room to move. At the last instant, he hurled his blade into the ground. Gasps rose from the stands, but he stomped on the handle, launching himself back into the air.
"Brilliant! His adaptability is incredible!" the guards murmured in awe.
In mid-air, he spun in a perfect hundred and eighty degrees, avoiding Strongman's strike. The chain on his left foot whipped around, wrapping itself around Strongman's neck.
A single error would have cost him his life.
With a heavy drop, Liu Wuxie yanked Strongman to the ground. The impact sent dust billowing as Strongman clawed at the chain, gasping for breath.
The chain around his neck choked him, and he clawed at it instinctively, struggling to free himself before he suffocated to death.
Liu Wuxie gave him no chance. He returned to his earlier position, kicked the blade from the ground, and sent it whistling across the arena. It flew low and fast, pierced Strongman's left neck, and burst out the right.
The battle ended in a tenth of a breath.
Silence blanketed the arena. A collective intake of breath echoed afterward, followed by thunderous applause.
Strongman was dead; the blood pooling beneath him stained the earth.
Liu Wuxie stood indifferent, knowing he had won only because of Ghost Eye and his skill. The following two rounds would be even harder. To live, he had to win all three.
Liu An waved his hand, and a guard dragged away the corpse, leaving Strongman's iron blade for Liu Wuxie.
Chen Gang's fists tightened, his face grim. Against all odds, Liu Wuxie had survived the first round.