Chapter 160

Chapter 160: Old Rivals

"Mr. Faye, I deeply appreciate your timely assistance."

In the tea room reserved for hosts within Lionheart Arena, Randall sat straight-backed in formal seiza posture before bowing low. His gratitude was sincere—without Midi’s intervention, the arena might’ve faced catastrophe today. Yet beneath this thanks lingered wariness in his gaze.

Midi’s overwhelming power meant he could obliterate the arena effortlessly. Worse, he’d hidden his true level earlier, exploiting his opponent’s complacency to deliver that shocking one-strike victory. The display of dominance had been excessive, unsettling even a kind soul like Randall.

_Overdid the intimidation,_ Midi noted wryly at Randall’s guardedness. The caution stemmed from his own mysterious background and motives.

Reaching into his coat, Midi produced a palm-sized black plaque. Though resembling plain iron, its Void Star Iron composition matched his Black Sky sword’s indestructible material, enhanced with rare alloys that made it deceptively heavy. Chiseled across its surface read:

ENEMIES UNDYING, LIONHEART UNBROKEN.

"Recognize this, Mr. Randall?" Midi set the plaque on the low table.

Randall’s initial glance was cursory. But as he mouthed the inscription, recognition struck. His breath hitched, eyes sharpening, fingers trembling against his knees. "This plaque… Where did you get it?" He lurched upright, decorum forgotten.

"You recognize it." Midi’s smile held patience.

Randall studied him—no thief’s guilt nor conqueror’s arrogance here, just calm ownership. Why would someone flanked by two level 40 veterans bother scheming for a minor arena? Resolve hardened. "This plaque was forged by Lionheart’s founder," he declared. "Its bearer rightfully leads this arena. If you claim it, I’ll yield my position immediately."

The offer didn’t surprise Midi—he’d planned this reveal. But he waved it aside. "Second question: Do you know your founder’s origins?"

The non-sequitur froze Randall. He scoured memories but found only fragments: legends of a swordmaster carving Lionheart from Faero Bay’s chaos, identity forever veiled.

Midi read the struggle. "Ever heard of Haidrich Hamilton, the Iron-Blood Duke of Belmar Kingdom?"

———

Dusk painted Faero Bay when Randall finally emerged, face alight. Disciples buzzed—their stern master had skipped afternoon drills for closed-door talks! Eager questions met vague encouragements: "Train harder. Our future’s limitless."

Even Randall barely processed it. Lionheart Arena, founded by Belmar’s legendary duke? Backed now by a kingdom’s wealth and Midi’s might? Zhenlu Arena’s threats seemed trivial.

Yet Midi saw darker threads. Zhenlu’s meteoric rise—from third-rate dojo to hosting level 40 practitioners overnight—reeked of external manipulation. Their rapid expansion via swallowed smaller arenas, opponents vanishing… Only one power craved West Coast dominance so desperately.

_Delos Empire._ The old enemy’s shadow stretched even here.

As disciples marveled at their master’s transformed mood, Midi gazed westward. This chessboard just grew more complex.