Chapter 121-2: The Hotel Battle (2)

The club came down with howling wind pressure, and the sheer force made Fighter tense. He raised his axe to intercept.

But suddenly, Blood King shifted his stance, feet braced, muscles bulging, body swelling with power.

The club descended even faster, even heavier!

What the hell, did he just pop a buff? I can’t take this hit!

Fighter’s battle instincts kicked in. Realizing brute force wouldn’t save him, he gritted his teeth and leapt backward, hurling his axe forward with full strength.

The weapon spun violently, slicing the air like a circular saw, creating a swirling cyclone.

He had activated one of his shell’s powerful skills.

If he couldn’t block, he’d strike first!

Fighter smirked, confident his attack would land before his opponent’s.

SHRIIIP!

With a shriek of metal, the spinning axe slammed into Blood King’s armor.

Sparks flew as the blade carved deep into the silver scales, nearly slicing through. But then a crimson aura burst from the armor.

Brimming with unrelenting vitality, it mended the gouged scales in the blink of an eye.

The whirling axe not only failed to penetrate further, it started to slow down, losing momentum and falling.

Fighter’s eyes went wide. His jaw dropped in disbelief.

“That’s not fair!”

Blood King grinned viciously, stepping forward with crushing wind pressure. The monstrous club came crashing down.

And just then…

A terrifying phantom surged up behind him: beast-headed, humanoid-bodied, with fangs and a long maw.

The creature’s shadow let out a sky-shaking roar, merging its massive clawed limbs with Blood King’s arms.

Together, they brought the spiked club down in a unified, catastrophic swing.

Fighter could only watch in horror as the weapon grew larger in his vision.

BANG!

Darkness.

Somewhere in the blur, he could’ve sworn he heard the sound of a watermelon being smashed.

[You, as the defeated party in the duel, have dropped Tiger Beast King Belt (Rare+ Equipment)!]

The white arena slowly faded away. When Fighter opened his eyes again, he saw Blood King standing with arms crossed, gazing down at him with utter disdain.

“So weak and you had the nerve to challenge me?”

Fighter flushed with humiliation and rage, on the verge of lashing out again. But then he remembered the sheer force behind that spiked club, and the terrifying beastly phantom that had loomed behind Blood King.

He stood frozen, lips trembling, unable to form a word. His shame was overwhelming.

Lin Xun, watching the red-faced Fighter stew in silence, curled his lip in contempt.

But keeping up appearances was crucial. He maintained his cold, ferocious expression.

In truth, when Fighter had suddenly pulled him into a duel arena earlier, it had scared the hell out of him.

Lin Xun hadn’t known that battles in the duel space didn’t result in actual death upon defeat.

Believing his life was in danger, he’d acted instantly. Fighter wants to kill me? Then screw the infiltration mission, he’d kill the bastard first!

In a fight for your life, hesitation was death.

To be fair, Fighter did have a few moves. But not many.

Regenerating Scale Armor of the Dragon Rider had perfectly countered his technique.

And with one crushing strike, Lin Xun had landed a critical hit that summoned the soul of a Beastmen Giant Chieftain, decapitating Fighter in a single blow.

Now, Lin Xun summoned his Ancient Dragonfang Greatclub once again, dragging the spiked monstrosity toward Fighter like a predator closing in.

Fighter’s eyes bulged as he scrambled back, waving his hands desperately. “It-it was just a joke! That duel was just a prank! Don’t come any closer!”

Lin Xun narrowed his eyes. This man was clearly brawn-over-brains, probably dumped all his stats into Strength.

That made him the perfect target for extraction.

“What difficulty are you currently in?”

His gaze was dark and menacing as he dragged the club forward, his posture screaming: Answer me, or I’ll bash your skull in.

“Blood King, you…”

“Call me Lord.”

Fighter pressed his lips together. “L-Lord, this isn’t how we do things in the organization! It’s against regulations! Only superiors have the right to question subordinates, surely you know…”

“I’m not asking for your opinion,” Lin Xun sneered. “I asked for an answer. I don’t have patience.”

He raised the club a few inches, the threat crystal clear.

“I-I just entered Difficulty Five…” Fighter shrank back, blurting the answer out before he could stop himself.

“What chapter? What was your last completion rating? How many chapters total? How many have you cleared?”

“L-Lord, no one asks that many questions…”

“Did you forget what I just said?” Lin Xun’s tone grew even colder.

“This is the last time I’ll repeat myself: I want answers, not questions.”

“You remember the sound of your skull being crushed? Keep stalling, and we’ll relive that moment.”

“L-Lord…” Fighter looked like he was about to cry. “Last rating was B… Chapter 8935 of Difficulty Five… I’ve cleared…”

“Shut up! I asked for chapter first, then rating.”

“Answer. In. Order.”

“Right now!”

Fighter trembled in silent agony. But under this monster’s shadow, he had no choice but to comply, he spilled every detail like an overturned sack of rice.

“What’s your soul imprint?”

“L-Lord, we’re not allowed to share that information in the organization, surely you…”

Fighter realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth.

Blood King’s eyes narrowed. The spiked club rose ominously once more.

“You’re questioning me again?”

WHAM!

The world went black.

Fighter collapsed as a wave of pain exploded across his face. Dizzy and dazed, he couldn’t even stand up.

He wiped blood from his nose and swallowed the broken teeth in his mouth.

“L-Lord… my soul imprint is Rising Dragon Fist of Mount Lu…”

Lin Xun suddenly reached out a hand.

Fighter cowered instinctively, unsure what he’d said wrong this time, bracing himself for another beating.

Instead, Blood King gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, almost companionably.

“Oh? So you’re a fan of the Bronze Saint cockroaches too?”

[T/N: Saint Seiya references.]

The words caught Fighter off guard. A strange warmth welled up in his chest. His eyes moistened inexplicably.

Before he could respond, Blood King manifested a stack of bookmarks in his hand.

“You know why Lord Amos picked me to be a proxy agent?”

Fighter nodded vaguely, still dazed.

He was now utterly convinced that Blood King wasn’t some official Apostle.

No, he had to be a true internal powerhouse from the New World.

This guy was a walking final boss. It made sense that Amos would elevate him immediately.

Compared to him, Fighter was nothing. The difference was vast.

The very thought made him feel bleak and hopeless, was he going to spend the rest of his life under this man’s shadow?

But then a second thought occurred.

Someone like Blood King was destined to rise far in the organization. He might even surpass Lord Amos one day…

Suddenly, Fighter felt like he was looking at a thick, powerful thigh, a thigh worth clinging to for dear life.

He made up his mind: from this moment on, he would cling to this man’s thigh and never let go.

“I used a Soul-Annihilation Bookmark to kill an old comrade once. Why? Because he had the audacity to speak disrespectfully of Lord Amos.”

“Hmph. You do know what a Soul-Annihilation Bookmark is, right?”

Fighter nodded like an obedient child.

“Well, now I know your soul imprint. Let’s not waste a precious bookmark on someone like you.”

“Now talk. What else was I sent here for?”