Chapter 159

Chapter 159: Dread

"Die!" The Sanshou fighter grinned menacingly, like a fierce tiger descending the mountain or a vulture diving from the sky, recklessly lunging at Midi.

At the same time, the level 30 disciples from Zhenlu Arena wore smirks as they spread out, securing positions around the area. Some retreated to block the Arena entrance, clearly intent on preventing anyone from escaping.

"Stop!" Randall roared. He refused to let a hopeful recruit die brutally before him.

The Lionheart Arena disciples burned with rage. How could they stand idle while facing a slaughter? They drew their weapons and surged forward. This was their home—they wouldn’t let the black-haired youth who spoke their truth fall. What meaning would their years of martial arts training and leveling up hold otherwise?

Instantly, roars, chaos, and shouts erupted.

Everyone charged at their targets.

Yet amid the turmoil, the black-haired youth who provoked the chaos stood unmoving, like an iron statue untouched by thunder, calmly watching the level 40 Sanshou fighter attack.

For a heartbeat, the Sanshou fighter’s chest tightened.

But he crushed the unease—his opponent was just a level 20 rookie. Even if backed by someone, so what? Zhenlu Arena now had unshakable support in Faero Bay. Who dared oppose them?

Kill first, ask later!

Focusing all his power into his legs, he unleashed a sweeping kick.

Sanshou skill—Whirlwind Leg!

This kick blended raw strength, speed, and inner strength, making his body as lethal as magic-enhanced weapons. Even a steel door would shatter under its force, let alone a level 20’s fragile flesh.

The kick howled toward Midi’s chest.

As Lionheart disciples gasped, Midi’s hand flashed to the hilt of his plain black longsword.

A faint gleam.

Just before the iron leg struck, Midi drew his blade—not to stab or slash, but to slap lightly.

The strike seemed slow yet moved faster than sight, landing first on the fighter’s chest.

Power erupted from the sword like a tidal wave, crushing the chest inward with a sickening crack!

A dull thud.

A choked scream.

The Sanshou fighter flew backward like a snapped kite-string, spinning over the crowd before smashing into the Arena wall. The bricks bore a faint human imprint. The once-arrogant fighter now lay broken, blood trickling from every orifice, breaths fading.

Lionheart Arena plunged into silence.

The brewing chaos froze, as if smothered by eternal ice.

Every gaze—Lionheart or Zhenlu—tracked the fighter’s flight before locking onto Midi, swirling with a storm of emotions.

How?

This was no rookie, but a level 40 veteran!

In Faero Bay, Belmar, or even the martial Empire, level 40 practitioners commanded respect. And this Sanshou fighter wasn’t some grind-driven amateur—he’d clawed his way up through bloodied battles, a true war-hardened expert!

But now?

The youth before them, appearing only around level 20, had casually struck his opponent into a mangled, unrecognizable state beyond recovery. None could comprehend how a slender longsword could hurl a full-grown man so far. The terrifying force behind that thin blade resembled a divine hammer capable of shaking the heavens and earth with a single swing!

This was annihilation in its purest form.

Yet the clash was so surreal even eyewitnesses struggled to believe it.

Observing the crowd’s stunned reactions, Midi nodded inwardly with satisfaction.

Truthfully, even for Midi, casually crushing a level 40 expert would’ve been impossible. Though harboring that formidable small sword within him, his own level 41 status granted no overwhelming advantage. How could a random slash reduce someone to pulp? A precise lethal strike was feasible, but lacked visceral impact.

Unless… it wasn’t random.

Midi possessed a secret technique – Intent Cultivation.

During Belmar’s civil war, he’d nurtured Ultimate Intent for three days while escorting Fina to Rose Mountain City. At Hamilton’s family meeting, he’d unleashed a sword strike so devastating it nearly killed the level 50 swordsmanship branch leader, even piercing through the castle’s magic array.

Now, fused with the demon god’s manifested blade, his cultivated Intent grew exponentially sharper and deadlier.

This opponent wasn’t level 50, but merely level 40 – weaker than Midi. The arrogant Sanshou fighter had attacked recklessly without defense. By cultivating Intent briefly and exploiting glaring weaknesses, Midi achieved this inconceivable feat.

Yet ordinary observers might dismiss it as trickery. Midi needed one final touch.

He released his suppressed aura.

The crowd gasped as the "level 20 rookie" erupted with skyrocketing power. Magic condensed into visible ripples, spawning fierce winds that lashed their faces.

20…30…35…38…40…41!

Any lingering suspicions about illusions or magical weapons vanished. Here stood the highest-level combatant present, having legitimately obliterated his foe.

"Scram."

That single icy word sent Zhenlu Arena members scrambling. Even their level 40 experts frantically gathered their mangled comrade, fleeing Lionheart Arena like escaping hell itself.

Which, considering Midi’s presence, wasn’t far from truth.

Midi let them go. His goal was deterrence, not extermination.

True killing intent would’ve meant immediate assault with elites Dickson and Kelvin flanking – no survivors, no theatrics. But Zhenlu Arena’s vast resources suggested greater forces. Annihilation risked endless retaliation.

By letting witnesses spread tales of his power, Midi bought precious time. Newly established in chaotic Faero Bay, he needed breathing room to consolidate strength. Soon enough, he’d be hunting Zhenlu Arena, not vice versa.

But first, Lionheart Arena and its master…

Countless calculations flashed through Midi’s mind before his piercing gaze settled on the middle-aged man.

"Mr. Randall," he began with an easy smile, "as Lionheart’s host, shall we resume discussing student recruitment?"