The atmosphere within the tournament grounds was electric. The crowd had barely recovered from the storm that was Shen Yuan, when another duel began to unfold, with Thunder Mirror Sect and Mist Soul Sect hanging on a tie, both having 1 point. Then for the last match of the round, from the Mist Soul Sect, a young man in sky-blue robes stepped onto the arena with confident strides. His cultivation aura swirled calmly around him. He was at the early stage of the Elysian Realm.
His opponent followed soon after, but the contrast between the two could not have been starker. The representative from the Thunder Mirror Sect looked like a walking corpse—his skin ghostly pale, his frame so thin he looked liable to collapse in the wind. His dull black robes hung from his shoulders like a shroud. Yet despite his sickly appearance, he carried an unsettling aura, like the silence before a calamity.
The Mist Soul Sect disciple smirked openly. "You should just surrender. Don't think you're strong just because you bullied a few juniors of mine. This isn't your league."
The pale man said nothing, his lips curling into a slight smirk. He simply stood there, unmoved.
Irritated, the Mist Soul Sect cultivator continued mockingly, "My normal punch could send you flying. What's that look for? Can you even lift a sword?"
Still, no reply.
Steward Yan stepped onto the arena. "Final match of this round, Zhou Feng of the Mist Soul Sect versus Chang Peng of the Thunder Mirror Sect." His voice carried clearly across the stands. "Begin!"
The protective array flared into being around the platform, sealing it in layers of spiritual defense.
In the Twin Soul Sect's seating area, Guo Bohai stiffened. His eyes widened in realization. "Wait, that's the Chang Peng! The guy who's said to kill people with a single word… They call him the reaper!"
Shen Yuan's gaze narrowed slightly. "Did you say… kill with one word?"
Guo Bohai nodded. "Yeah. It's a rumor from the southern continent. No one knows what technique it is, but everyone who hears that word—dies."
A thought flickered through Shen Yuan's mind. "Could it be that art?"
Back in the arena, Zhou Feng tapped his nose with a cocky grin. "I'll let you go first. Show me what that bony frame of yours can do."
Chang Peng's voice was calm, even amused. "Are you sure?"
"Go on, don't waste my time, little skeleton."
That devilish grin finally split Chang Peng's pale face. "Very well."
Watching from his sitting area, Shen Yuan muttered under his breath, "That Zhou Feng guy is going to die. Badly."
His teammates blinked in confusion. "What?"
But they chose not to question it, trusting his judgment as they turned their eyes back to the match.
Chang Peng raised a single hand and pointed his index finger at Zhou Feng. A ripple of black mist slowly formed around his fingertip and condensed into a sharp stream that lanced through the air. Zhou Feng scoffed and braced himself, an armor of qi surging around his body.
The black mist struck.
There was a flicker of resistance—Zhou Feng's Qi barrier rippled, then shattered like fragile glass. The mist entered his body.
However, nothing happened.
The audience sighed in disappointment, and Zhou Feng burst into laughter. "That was it? You're weaker than I thought! Ahahahaha!"
But then—
"Die," Chang Peng whispered.
It was just a word. But its effect was immediate, swift and catastrophic.
Zhou Feng's laughter quickly turned into a horrific scream. Blood gushed from his mouth, eyes, and ears. His flesh blistered and rotted in patches. His limbs spasmed wildly, and then… he collapsed.
Dead. Lifeless. As though his very soul had been torn out of his being.
A chilling silence blanketed the arena.
Even among the spectators, confusion spread like wildfire. No one could comprehend what had just happened. The Mist Soul Sect disciples looked on in horror as their senior brother's corpse lay crumpled on the arena.
High above, the World Lord leaned forward with intrigue. The sect masters murmured to one another, several of them recognizing the technique, or at least suspecting what it might be.
Within the Twin Soul Sect's group, Guo Bohai could only gape. "What… what was that?!"
Shen Yuan exhaled slowly. "A high-tier Earth Rank martial technique known as the Death Hex."
"Death Hex?" Dong Chen asked.
Shen Yuan nodded. "It's a soul-erasure technique. It doesn't damage the body much. Instead, it erases the spirit and soul in almost an instant upon activation. The user needs only to say the word 'Die' for it to take effect—assuming the black mist like thing entered the target's body."
"That's… terrifying," Xiang Xiaoli murmured. "Is it stronger than your Void Fire?"
"No," Shen Yuan said flatly. "Not because the Death Hex is weak, but because of the price it demands. First, its effectiveness caps out at mid-Elysian Realm but even that would be useless if the opponent has resistance to such form of techniques. Second, any failure results in a backlash that drains the user's lifespan."
All five of his teammates shivered at the implications.
"That's why most Death Hex users have frail bodies," Shen Yuan added. "Their cultivation is poured mostly into their spirit and soul. Also the reason… why they are also slower in speed compared to their peers who are in the same level. Also… my void fire is quicker than this death hex, just as my void fire touches anything it ceases to exist, while death hex needs a few seconds."
The defensive array flickered away as Chang Peng walked off the stage without a word, the crowd parting in silence.
Steward Yan reappeared on the arena floor. "Thunder Mirror Sect wins this round."
Cheers broke out from some spectators, while others responded with hushed murmurs—unsettled by the ruthless method of victory.
Members of the Mist Soul Sect carried Zhou Feng's lifeless body away, their expressions solemn, with some tearing up, while some have broken down.
Then once the crowd had calmed, Steward Yan stepped forward again. "With that, the only remaining contenders among the defeated sects are Dragonwood Valley, Twin Soul Sect, and Thunder Mirror Sect. Due to the highest score among the losing sects, Dragonwood Valley will enter the final round of the second half. They will face the winner of the upcoming match, Twin Soul Sect versus Thunder Mirror Sect."
The crowd erupted in renewed excitement.
Some whispered fervently that the Thunder Mirror Sect had this in the bag. Others argued that Shen Yuan's power exceeded even Chang Peng's terrifying technique. Even some girls were starting to fawn over both.
"I bet Shen Yuan is scared now after his arrogant display."
"Heh, Shen Yuan would be the one who wins this, he hasn't even shown his actual power after the breakthrough."
"You two shut up, I know who will win… it will be both, it will end in a tie. I just can't choose between them, one is handsome while the other is too ruthless…. so hot!"
Even rogue cultivators among the audience began to take sides.
Just as Steward Yan was about to announce the next match, a voice rang out.
"I have a request!"
Chang Peng's voice cut through the noise.
Steward Yan looked toward him and nodded. "Speak."
In a blur, Chang Peng was already standing in the arena. His finger slowly lifted, and pointed directly at the Twin Soul Sect's seating area.
"I directly challenge you, I have waited for this day for years upon years." Chang Peng spoke.
A moment of silence.
Then all eyes followed that finger's trajectory.
It pointed at Shen Yuan.
A roar of anticipation burst through the crowd.
The Reaper had issued his challenge, and it was to the man who had flipped the atmosphere of the tournament on its head.
Shen Yuan stood slowly, his calm eyes locking onto Chang Peng's pale, smiling face.
The next battle was no longer just a match.
It was a true death battle.