The extreme cold began to spread like a spider's web, slightly affecting Greenberg's movements.

"Just now, on the first move, I used very high speed. How did you manage that?"

Greenberg was quite mired in frustration. That move was meant to cut open the mask, to see the true face, counting as a serious strike with the scythe, and it was a surprise attack.

He believed very few could block it, even those who could react to bullets wouldn't react to this. If relying solely on reflexes, then it's truly fierce.

Morison: "..."

He did not respond.

What Greenberg didn't know was that Morison's eyes could foresee the future, having already perceived his strategies. No matter how fast Greenberg was, there was always an insurmountable chasm.

The spreading chill permeated thin mist.

Greenberg swiftly retreated, leaping into the air to hurl a massive spinning scythe, fast as a phantom, with a crunch, directly cutting Morison in half, splitting him into two.

But as if hitting a ghost, it was a mirrored reflection illuminated by scattered ice crystals formed by the mist, dispersing into smoke.

Like an evil spirit, the Iron-Faced man crossed his arms, flying in from the other side with a fierce slash.

The inertia brought by the spinning scythe was unimaginable, yet Greenberg yanked it back with both hands in an instant. The scene was too stunning, immediately clearing the clouds and dispersing the mist, swiftly striking at Morison.

The bizarre part was the lack of any middle process; the scythe seemed disconnected from Greenberg, almost like an independent entity, with no shadow of a chain to be seen.

It was just a giant rotating black shadow wildly flying in the air, slicing through anything it brushed against, killing anything it touched.

The deadly rotating wheel of slaughter whirled towards Morison.

Morison crossed his blades to block, but the wheel's power was unmatched, the incredible spinning force made the blades sizzle with smoke, nearly overwhelming the skills of court alchemists.

With a snap.

The large scythe hooked a sword as it paused for a moment, pulling it towards itself, instantly shattering Morison's stance, causing him to falter for a brief second.

Greenberg was on a different level, defying logic, immediately retracting, seeming to split from one blade into two scissor-like blades, already close in seconds.

Foreseeing the future, the double blades whirled and blocked.

Normal dynamic vision could only capture incomplete images, causing phantom afterimages at faster speeds.

Two scythes, three scythes, four scythes.

Even the court alchemy couldn't keep up, the air filled with a metallic scent, dust in the air peeled off into iron filings at the speed of the scythes, almost like meteors descending without any combustion material, flaring into blazing fires.

"This is fucking terrifying! Damn!"

Galen was stunned; as a Silver Adventurer, it was his first time encountering such combat, where any magic beast or monster would be minced into remnants, Heaven Slaughter's typical prowess was strong, but even this was beyond precedent, not even a pretense of acting was involved.

The audience erupted as well, even the elites; after paying such exorbitant prices in Golden Dragons, it was exactly for watching this!

No matter how many scythes seemed to appear in the afterimages, there ultimately was just one.

Even if one can foresee the future.

But even in a short time, Morison's physical capabilities were straining to keep up, being completely suppressed, if not for the icy chill emanating from the Ghost Eye, just the scorching heat could roast someone alive, an atmospheric distortion from the heat waves already mirrored the landscape.

From the audience's view, it seemed chaotic, just two lightning-speed figures engaging furiously, yet each strike was a battle of psychology.

"As expected from Hall-level! Hall-level indeed! So powerful!"

Heavenly Slaughter repeated twice, grinning fiercely, remarking how it still held up, that survival instinct had yet to explode, a real boiling pot of beef.

Morison's iron face revealed no expression, heart like Still Water, utterly calm, having wandered the edge of life and death innumerably, long desensitized to "death".

"Game time is over."

Morison's voice was icy, blood-red light burst forth from the mask's eye holes.

A master like Heavenly Slaughter wouldn't make random moves, foreseeing further into the future, fully understanding his tactics.

Just like in the White Tower battle against Morison, the ice crystals and mirage-like mist formed an impenetrable cage blocking Heavenly Slaughter, a corridor of killing intent emerging from all sides, projecting countless Morisons.

Under Morison's myriad feints, they mirrored his actions, impossible to distinguish the true one.

All the mirages were double-bladed ghost-faced figures, crossing arms, flying in blitz.

Greenberg was astounded, this man's reflexes exceeded cognitive domains, he wasn't faster than him, but it was as if he could see the future!

Morison appeared not to bother with pretense, pushing his physical limits like instantaneous blitz, whirling and slashing down.

Greenberg recalled the scythe spinning around him, witnessing only spinning black shadows in wild orbit, surrounding himself for defense.

But Morison anticipated this scene, even the unseen chains were bound by the double blades.

Greenberg himself pulled the Ghost Eye Mad Blade towards him! However fast he was, Morison was just as fast!

No middle process.

Just as consciousness returned, it was the last scene seen.

Slash!

A blade struck hard on Greenberg's face, embedding deeply, blood gushing, revealing the bone.

If not for Greenberg promptly mitigating the force, he would have killed himself!

The whole audience erupted, the broadcast host's silence was deafening, a battle at this level only possible at the Continent Martial Arts Competition.

Blood splattered from Greenberg's right cheek, the chain tightly ensnared Morison's blade, Morison delivered a fiercest side kick to the abdomen, yet Greenberg envisioned the same.

Boom!

The ground gouged two deep furrows, both blasted apart, stance unstable yet rapidly regained, separated by about twenty horse bodies.

Both weapons fell to the ground.

The wound on Greenberg's face throbbed, revealing bone, blood flowing freely, ignoring to staunch it, nor retrieving his weapon, as Morison approached him, barehanded?

It appeared no need to remove the mask fighting this guy, save it for tomorrow's Stargazing Festival finals.

During the sprint, icy chill exuded from the Ghost Eye spreading like ice threads over Morison's hands, clutching Ice Blades gleaming sharp and vivid under the arena spotlights, dual-wielding in wild dance.

"This is clearly cheating, whoa!"

But Greenberg's reactions were abnormally extreme, continually ducking, retreating, sidestepping, dodging blade after blade.

The audience betting on Heaven Slaughter were even more on edge witnessing it, utterly thrilling.

The longer the fight lasted, the deeper Morison foresaw the future, Greenberg was as good as dead, after getting a harsh cut on his face, his chest and thigh also received deep cuts, revealing bone.

Heaven Slaughter wanted to concede, survival instinct began to erupt.

Yet Morison was the kind to leave no survivors.

Double blades coiled the neck, pulling with a cross in an instant decapitation, the head flew twenty to thirty meters away, neck spurting blood.

The corpse of Heavenly Slaughter collapsed powerlessly, dying instantly on the spot.

The female host was stunned... took a moment to speak.

"Former Hall-level Adventurer, Ghost Eye Mad Blade, Morison, wins the Stargazing Festival finals entry!"

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