The audience had grown numb.
This battle had completely shattered their understanding of combat.
A clash of speed and strength should have been a tactical duel, a dance of wits and reflexes.
Yet now, it looked more like an adult toying with a child.
Every strike from the Battlefield Wanderer seemed futile.
No matter how fast it moved, it could never outpace the opponent’s deceptively slow yet flawlessly precise blocks.
No matter how sharp its blade, it could never pierce that ancient, impenetrable black armor.
The Wanderer’s murderous aura withered before the Black Knight’s cold, deathly mist, its momentum fading with every passing second.
Liu Yuan tapped away at her phone screen, utterly indifferent to the life-and-death struggle unfolding before her.
Meanwhile, beads of sweat formed on Lin Han’s forehead.
His eyes remained locked onto the Black Knight, desperately searching for a weakness.
But there was none.
Strength, defense, combat instinct—all flawless.
The only apparent flaw was its speed.
Yet the Battlefield Wanderer’s pride—its blinding speed—was rendered useless against the Black Knight’s impenetrable defense.
What now?
The Wanderer’s stamina wasn’t infinite.
This high-speed assault was draining its energy far faster than the Black Knight’s effortless defense.
Was this… defeat?
Lin Han refused to accept it.
The Battlefield Wanderer, sensing its master’s frustration and desperation, attacked with even greater frenzy.
It began disregarding its own safety, trading injuries for fleeting opportunities.
Yet the Black Knight remained unshaken, an immovable mountain.
For the first time, the twin crimson lights in its visor flickered—was that… impatience?
Slowly, it lifted the massive sword that had been resting on the ground.
A cold voice echoed once more, carrying the weight of finality.
"This ends here, Outsider."
Before the words faded, the greatsword rose.
The black mist surrounding the knight surged into the blade, deepening its already pitch-black hue.
A terrifying pressure descended—heavy as a mountain, silent as the abyss.
The very air in the arena grew thick, oppressive.
The Battlefield Wanderer froze mid-motion.
Its vaunted speed now felt like wading through tar, every movement an agonizing struggle.
Its once-raging aura flickered like a candle in the wind before the Black Knight’s overwhelming darkness.
Fear.
An emotion no undead should ever feel surged through the Wanderer’s core, flooding Lin Han’s senses through their soul-link.
Lin Han shuddered, his face turning deathly pale.
No fancy techniques. No evasive maneuvers.
The Black Knight simply raised its sword—a weapon embodying "weight" and "finality."
Then, it swung.
Simple. Direct.
Yet carrying an unstoppable, crushing dominance.
The air screamed as it was torn apart.
Space itself seemed to warp along the blade’s path, leaving behind a trail of absolute darkness.
Instinct overrode fear in the Wanderer’s final moments.
Breaking free from its paralysis, it let out one last desperate howl.
Dodging was impossible—the strike sealed all escape.
So it chose the only option left.
Gathering every shred of remaining power into its blade, it met the falling greatsword head-on.
Attack against attack.
A brutal, suicidal counter.
Lin Han’s heart stopped. He already saw the outcome.
Not the clang of steel, but the dull crunch of a hammer smashing rotten wood.
The Wanderer’s radiant blade met the black edge—only to scatter into pathetic sparks, dissolving like snow against fire.
The sword shattered. The arm followed.
And still, the greatsword descended.
A sickening crack—bone and armor crumpled as one.
The Wanderer’s massive frame hurtled backward like a battering ram had struck it.
Its aura vanished.
It hit the ground, twitched twice, then lay still.
The fire in its hollow eyes had gone out.
One strike.
That was all it took.
The crowd stared, wide-eyed and speechless, at the lone figure standing victorious.
The Battlefield Wanderer—a monster that had unleashed a storm of attacks mere moments ago—was just… gone?
The commentator gaped, mouth working soundlessly.
Years of experience, countless battles narrated—none had prepared him for this.
What was there to say?
It began. It ended.
Meanwhile, Liu Yuan kept texting Su Qi, utterly unbothered.
Though it felt somewhat condescending, it was clearly Lin Han who had inexplicably started the taunting.
[Iris: Are we going home after this match?]
[IWantToSleep: Sure. The tournament lasts three days in a row, one match per day. We can definitely go home after today’s round.]
The 'Black Knight' planted his massive sword back on the ground with a dull thud.
The arena lights seemed to grow brighter.
Yet Lin Han’s heart sank even deeper into despair.
The connection between the 'Battlefield Wanderer' and his card slot had been severed.
Defeat.
Utter and complete.
From the moment the 'Black Knight' drew his sword to the collapse of the 'Battlefield Wanderer,' the entire sequence happened too fast to process.
A total overpowering!
Sheer, brute-force domination!
His pride, his trump card—they had been as fragile as tissue paper in the face of his opponent.
The loss of cards worth millions? He could brush that off.
To his family’s resources, it was nothing more than a drop in the bucket.
But this feeling of being utterly crushed, without even a sliver of room to fight back…
Why?
Why did this nobody, this guy who came out of nowhere—
He couldn’t accept it!
The results of the martial exam directly affected his standing within the family, dictating the allocation of future resources.
He was the sixth son of the Lin family—colloquially known as "Old Six."
Don’t ask how his father managed to have so many children.
His old man was rich and powerful—what was wrong with supporting a few college students to help with employment issues?
His eldest brother had already secured his position as the heir. If Lin Han couldn’t deliver outstanding results now, he’d likely be pushed completely to the sidelines.
By then, forget about acquiring stronger cards—even maintaining his current training resources might become a pipe dream.
No. Absolutely not!
Lin Han’s chest heaved violently, his face flushing with an almost feverish intensity.
His gaze locked onto the girl at the other end of the arena—Liu Yuan—who was casually scrolling through her phone, as if this victory meant nothing to her.
Wait—
Summon duels were battles between summoned entities.
But she had chosen a free duel format—where the cardholder themselves could fight!
If he took out the cardholder directly, what use would her overpowered summon be?
The thought coiled around his rationality like a rapidly spreading vine.
Dirty?
Not really.
It was within the rules.
All he wanted was to win—what was wrong with that?
It wasn’t like he was trying to kill her. If things went too far, the referees would step in.
He just needed victory. Because losing? That meant losing everything.
ver to a world of cultivation and returned invincible. Modern medicine is child's play compared to elixirs; technological might crumbles before true cultivation. My name is Qin Ning, Earth's sole cultivator!
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
iemie, male, Race: Moon. Hobby: Collecting anomalies. At first, he thought he possessed two systems: the Crimson Rainbow Moon and the Clear Cold Frost Moon. One day, he discovered that he himself could also become a system for others, holding the chessboard of fate. The Eighth Epoch, also known as the Eternal Moon Epoch. Humans, witches, elves, bloodline descendants, specters, demons, and spirits together compose a new history. Walking the path on behalf of the moon, before he knew it, Chen Miemie's footsteps were followed by all manner of strange and wondrous anomalies. As time passed, many titles circulated about him—The King in Yellow, Lord of Anomalies, Heart of the Eternal Moon, and more. "Me? I'm just a traveler who enjoys collecting interesting creatures," Chen Miemie said.
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
