"Did you forget something?"

Shadi was anxious, trying to suppress his violent nerves with a deep drag on his cigarette.

"What thing?"

Liszt, currently the top dog of East Sea International's deaf community, had just finished directing forces and was feeling pretty good.

"All of this hinges on Saleret winning this match."

Shadi thought it was a bit uncertain. After all, this guy had come over from enemy lines. Yakai Chiyoko was reliable if you put them to work, but Saleret wasn't that type. Without blood relatives as leverage, who would dare send him to Aran?

"Not a big issue. Even if he loses, once Aran hits Heaven Port, I'll just hide in the bathroom. When they knock, I'll say someone's inside."

Rein said casually.

"That's indeed a good plan. The route from the Western Continent to Heaven Port is a U-shape; nobody dares venture into the unexplored areas except Iron Head Child. Pick your death: storm, sea beast, or mysterious force. Since there's only one route, things will be much easier. At the right time, focus and take down just one of Aran's warships, and they'll get bottlenecked."

Chuan Che agreed.

"Holy shit, like it's Island Raiders, do Aran's people even afford tea eggs?"

Shadi commented powerlessly.

"Damn..."

These idiots weren't taking it seriously, and even Liszt was a bit nervous.

The Continent Martial Arts Competition broadcast was still playing, and the real fight had begun.

Liszt covered his head with his shirt like an AABB, blocking his ears, too scared to listen.

Garscek: "..."

Liszt had already sent Swan out, and that man was going, singing some nonsense love ballad. Mika was linking to the king, closing his eyes in a romantic touch. Who's the craziest?

[Stargazing Festival Preliminaries, 32 to 16, Match 9, officially begins!]

The female host ended her broadcast with a tone of national peace and prosperity.

But in the solemn training grounds, the battle between the two didn't erupt instantly. Saleret knew how important this fight was, holding dual blades and slowly advancing towards Heavenly Killer Greenberg.

Greenberg, holding the iconic chained scythe, chains wrapped around his hand, looked like a tough character, with a patience to match, slowly approaching Saleret.

Saleret was no coward either; he always donned the same unyielding attire, breeches and military boots, his iron mask cold and stern, his hair spiking back like steel needles, with a few strands drifting over his forehead.

In all battles, Greenberg either cuts slowly or lunges for an instant kill as soon as the hosts announce it—he clearly has some psycho streak, and this time he chose the former.

"You know, some restaurants use pork cushion meat and pass it off as beef?"

With only ten horse lengths between them, Greenberg stopped, starting to ramble nonsensically.

Saleret: "..."

He remained still, not making any arbitrary moves.

The Continent Martial Arts Competition had one advantage: you could know your opponent in advance and study his techniques.

The competition was starting to feel like a professional league; it wasn't just about fighting anymore, but also hiding moves and psychological games.

It was known that this guy made his name with cunning and ruthless tactics. The scythe was considered a rather unusual weapon. The Flying Scythe Technique had appeared many times in competitions, and it wasn't really a scythe but a magnified boomerang wielded with such prowess that it could erupt into any trajectory at his will with extreme speed, even appearing to split into several blades at once.

His opponents either got sliced in half by a sudden shadow in a few seconds or, worse yet, were slowly skinned and bled out.

He mastered all battles effortlessly, never showing his full strength; his presence was strong, discussed alongside Xiao Long and Gedre as the top three major contenders.

The strongest person in this competition was definitely still hiding, saving their skills for the Stargazing Festival tomorrow, but from current performances, Heavenly Killer was surely in the top three.

Galen in the audience was nervous too; Saleret was truly a jinx, and the omen had come seven years ago.

"Many people can't tell the difference. Add some seasoning, and they can't really tell; it's indistinguishable, but I can always tell. If it's fake beef, I won't pay for the meal."

Greenberg spun his scythe leisurely in his hand, the whistling sound piercing through the air continuously.

Saleret: "..."

Many spoke trash in fights to mess with minds, and Greenberg was evidently that type.

It's not that this tactic doesn't work on experts; it's about the kind of trash talk used. If you told the Sword King about the Emperor's eastern campaigns while shamelessly begging in Aran, even a saint's mindset might change.

"Many so-called tough guys are like this, masquerading as beef. Those most afraid of dying can't stay calm and get weaker, making them easier to kill. The stronger the will to survive, the easier they could die. But if you're not afraid of death, you're a fool. I'm still young, with a strong libido; I fear death intensely. So the trick isn't about what kind of meat it is, but a certain subtle balance—what's necessary to masquerade! Add what seasoning."

Greenberg said, believing Saleret hadn't yet figured out how he was impostering. Such people needed slow handling.

"Heavenly Killer Greenberg is still chatting in this crucial semi-final, and he's already set the record for the longest match duration in the sixteen editions of the Continent Martial Arts Competition! Some matches were quick, but the rest still set a record! It's a shame the arena is dangerous and lacks audio equipment, so we don't know what they're discussing. Could it be scenes from bestsellers, probing between masters, or dust-settling stories, maybe a destined showdown? Can it be that way?"

The female host smiled on the surface but was distraught inside because she needed to broadcast, and couldn't leave it silent, so she filled the gaps with whatever. In her eyes, Heavenly Killer was truly a demonic child dropped into the world, challenging her hosting skills.

"Seven years ago, when that incident occurred, even the Southern Continent was talking about it..."

Greenberg pressed on with his chatter.

Saleret was in no mood for insipid trash talk. Beneath his iron mask, his eyes flickered with a fearful red glow, a peak of icy cold expansive energy spreading.

The chilling aura shot down Greenberg's spine, but the madman laughed instead of fearing it.

"Wow~ Scary..."

Greenberg's stance dropped, his left shoulder trembled, and his speed became lightning fast; there was no interim phase, no indication of the flying scythe's trajectory. A spinning giant shadow was already in Saleret's face, ready to slice open his mask to see who he was.

This speed was fast enough but not as quick as Greenberg had anticipated.

The spreading chill had already slowed its speed, like a domain; Saleret effortlessly flicked it away with one knife while Greenberg instantly retrieved his flying scythe.

The competition used standardized equipment, with no difference in the smelting material quality, and by the sixteenth edition, balance had been perfected.

The expectation was some testing between both sides for a while longer.

They were still separated by ten horse lengths.

In the next second!

A terrifying cracking sound, any gaze met by Ghost Eye appeared like frozen ground. Saleret launched into a sprint, shards of ice flying with every step, blood-red trails following Ghost Eye's path hauntingly close, as if he approached by instantaneous movement.

The blades and the giant scythe clanged repeatedly, sparks like waterfalls, the rapid clang of their colliding weapons resembling rapid gunfire, and the burst of coldness allowed those nearer to the training grounds to feel a touch of coolness.

Their forms constantly shifted, shadows flashing in and out, speed beyond imagination, and their weapons tearing through the air, forming a whirlwind that scarred the training ground with countless complex arc-like patterns.

The intense clash of short weapons ignited the crowd.

Instantly, every spectator came to life, cheers spreading throughout, while Gren bit her fingernails tighter, believing even against Greenberg, she'd always trust Iron Head.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.