After the seventh duel, Zhi Xuan heard a young man nearby crying silently. The man was Participant Number Fifteen. The man who had just won was an acquaintance of his friend. He had just killed his own friend.

  "I am fighting for my brother," the man whispered to himself, his fists trembling. "I must win. I must win."

  Zhi Xuan patted the youth's shoulder, and the youth immediately turned, surprised to see the one-eyed Zhi Xuan. He had heard the commotion earlier and knew that Zhi Xuan had defeated two mortals with one move.

  Zhi Xuan patted the shoulder of the weeping youth. The faint scent of blood from the duel above, mixed with the smell of sweat and fear, filled the corridor.

  The young man, his face still filled with tears and shock, turned and was surprised to see the one-eyed Zhi Xuan standing beside him. He had heard the commotion in the registration area and knew this youth was the arrogant Number Twenty-Seven, who had easily defeated two mortals with a single move.

  "You... who are you?" the youth whispered, his voice choked. He pulled his hand away from the animal hide scroll he held tightly.

  Zhi Xuan knelt slightly, leveling his gaze with the youth's eyes. His right eye radiated sharp calmness, while his pale left eye reflected the arena's dim light.

  "Give your animal hide scroll to me," Zhi Xuan said, his tone flat and gentle, yet containing an unavoidable command. "And go home."

  The youth stared at the scroll he held tightly—Number Fifteen. "No! I... I cannot! This prize is for my brother! He needs money for sect school fees! I must fight! If I win, my brother will have a future! My father said..."

  "Your father wants you to live," Zhi Xuan interrupted, his voice not judgmental, merely stating a grim fact. "Your brother would not want to see your corpse. And the stakes in this arena are much heavier than you imagine."

  Zhi Xuan extended his right hand, and with his fingertip, he touched the animal hide scroll of Number Fifteen.

  "I have already bet to take all the prizes of ten consecutive opponents, no matter who my opponent is. If I fight you and win, your prize automatically becomes mine." Zhi Xuan dimmed his aura to the lowest point, creating the impression of a sincere, ordinary youth. "I will take your scroll now. And I will win that prize for you. Go home, find your mother, and never return to this place."

  The youth was stunned. He saw the cold calmness in Zhi Xuan's eyes, and then he remembered how easily the youth took down two grown men with one move in the registration area. He recalled the cruelty of the first duel that had just ended, and the horror in his eyes deepened.

  With a trembling hand, the youth released the animal hide scroll. "If... if you lie to me, I will become a ghost and haunt you," he whispered, his voice filled with helpless threat.

  Zhi Xuan took the scroll and nodded. "I never break a promise. Now, go. Run as fast as you can, and never look back."

  The youth, freed from the burden of deadly hope, rose quickly. He glanced at Zhi Xuan one last time with eyes full of mixed gratitude and fear, then fled the damp corridor, heading towards the light of the gate.

  Time crawled slowly, filled with the sound of death echoing from above. As the tenth duel began, the commotion in the spectator stands suddenly became frenzied.

  "Where! Where is number twenty-seven? The other numbers' fights are boring!"

  "Yes! I have bet more for number twenty-seven! Where is he!"

  "Twenty-seven! Number twenty-seven! When will that one-eyed blind man fight?!" Young Master Wei shouted from the main stands, his voice carried by the loudspeaker formation. "I am bored of this cheap blood! Bookmaker Hu! Arrange for him to enter sooner!"

  Bookmaker Hu, whose face was now filled with sweat and financial excitement, rushed to the waiting area. He was a low-level cultivator, but in this area, he had full authority.

  "Listen, all of you! Due to requests from the main seats and to spur excitement, there is a schedule change!" Bookmaker Hu shouted, his voice shrill from constant yelling.

  The participants in the corridor turned, their faces a mixture of surprise and cold fear. The duel that had just ended was a brief slaughter, and any schedule change meant only one thing: the rich masters had demanded greater bloodshed.

  "Number Twenty-Seven! And Participant Number Twenty-Eight! You step up now! You will fight in the Main Duel!" Bookmaker Hu yelled, his greedy eyes sweeping the corridor.

  Zhi Xuan opened his closed eyes. His right eye was sapphire blue, while his pale left eye almost radiated a soft jade glow under the corridor's dim light. Inside his Heavenly Samsara Wheel, a calm yet potent energy resided.

  He stood up slowly. His black-and-red robe swayed momentarily, contrasting with the dark shadows of the corridor. His steps were calm, yet every movement radiated cold authority.

  "I am coming," Zhi Xuan replied, his voice flat.

  Participant Number Twenty-Eight, a sturdy middle-aged man who looked like an unlucky security guard, swallowed hard. He had clearly heard the rumors about the one-eyed youth who took down two grown men with one move in the registration area. Fear immediately replaced resolve in his eyes.

  "Bookmaker Hu! Number twenty-seven! There is a change of bet in his duel! He is taking all his opponents' prizes! Is not this duel unfair?!" Man Number Twenty-Eight shouted, his voice full of despair.

  Bookmaker Hu snorted, "The decision is made! If you are scared, you can die and your prize will go into the pocket of the legitimate winner! Hurry up! The Arena is waiting for you!"

  Zhi Xuan stepped past the man, giving him a brief, emotionless look. "I will not kill you," Zhi Xuan whispered, his tone a promise. "But you will fall."

  Zhi Xuan then walked towards the tunnel leading to the North Arena.

  'They have moved you up from twenty-seventh place to the main duel. They want expensive blood, monkey,' Ruo Xianxue hissed, her voice filled with excitement. 'Make sure this show is worth a thousand gold coins.'

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  'Of course, Ruo,' Zhi Xuan countered, locking down every emotion. 'The show begins.'

  Zhi Xuan stepped out of the corridor's darkness into the bright light of the North Arena. The roar of cheers, shouts, and wild laughter hit him like a tidal wave. The air in the arena was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and expensive wine. The arena itself was a vast stone circle, its surface sprinkled with brownish-red sand that seemed too dark to be merely sand. Dried blood from previous duels created a gruesome pattern on the arena floor.

  Around the arena, the stands were filled with hundreds of spectators. Most were rich cultivators in expensive silk robes, waving their betting jade scrolls. In the raised main section, draped with jade and silk curtains, Zhi Xuan could sense stronger auras—Organ Transformation and even Consciousness Transformation observing.

  In one of the most prominent main boxes, Young Master Wei stood, waving his hand crudely. His face was red from wine.

  "Look! The One-Eyed Blind Man is there! Kill him, Twenty-Eight! I want to see his arrogance shattered!" Young Master Wei shouted, followed by wild laughter.

  Zhi Xuan ignored the noise, standing tall in the center of the arena circle. He looked up, toward the crowd, and then toward the VIP boxes. His pale eye stared sharply, as if he could see every hidden shadow.

  Participant Number Twenty-Eight, who now stood across from Zhi Xuan, looked like a pathetic shadow. The man was trembling, his legs felt like lead, realizing that he was not only fighting Zhi Xuan but also fighting the hope of thousands of gold coins from the spectators.

  A dramatic announcer, a cultivator in excessive leather attire, stepped into the center of the arena. He raised his hands, and the commotion subsided, replaced by a tense and hopeful silence.

  "WELCOME! WELCOME TO TONIGHT'S MAIN DUEL!" the announcer roared, his voice aided by the formation. "Gentlemen and Ladies, you have witnessed a spectacle of cheap blood. But now, you will witness the real drama! A drama fueled by arrogance and hope!"

  The announcer pointed towards Zhi Xuan. "On one side, we have the mysterious participant, Number Twenty-Seven! The arrogant one-eyed youth! He claims he will win TEN consecutive duels, TAKE all his opponents' prizes, and will NOT kill anyone! A crazy claim that has sparked the biggest bet we have ever seen! And on the other side, we have the participant fighting for his family, Number Twenty-Eight!"

  "THE RULES ARE CLEAR! NO SPIRITUAL WEAPONS! NO JADE ESSENCE! ONLY YOUR MORTAL BODY! AND THE DUEL ENDS UNTIL ONE PERSON CAN NO LONGER STAND!"

  The announcer waited for the cheers to peak, then he raised both his hands high. In the corners of the arena, Zhi Xuan and his opponent were positioned in circles painted with chalk.

  "And now, for the duel that will determine wealth and death!" the announcer screamed. "WILL THE ONE-EYED BLIND MAN FULFILL HIS ARROGANT PROMISE? OR WILL HE FALL IN THE FIRST BLOODSHED?"

  "THE DUEL BEGINS!"

  The drum was beaten once more, this time faster and wilder, implying permission to kill. Zhi Xuan did not move.

  Participant Number Twenty-Eight, driven by desperation and burning fear, let out a hoarse roar and ran forward. It was a desperate attack, his fists swinging wildly and without technique, aiming for Zhi Xuan's head.

  However, before the fist reached its target, before Twenty-Eight crossed the center line, Zhi Xuan raised his right hand. It was a simple movement, elegant, and full of authority—like an emperor halting an advancing army.

  "Wait," Zhi Xuan said.

  His voice was flat, but through the sudden silence, caused by the drum's echo, the word sounded incredibly clear. Participant Number Twenty-Eight flinched in surprise and, driven by instinct, managed to stop himself just inches from Zhi Xuan, gasping for breath.

  The announcer, who had just stepped back to the edge of the arena, looked confused. The spectators' cheers turned into shouts of anger and confusion.

  "What the hell is this?! That one-eyed blind man is a coward!" Young Master Wei shouted. "Fight! Do not waste our time!"

  Bookmaker Hu stepped forward, his face red. "Twenty-Seven! The duel has started! You cannot stop!"

  Zhi Xuan ignored them all. He stared at Participant Number Twenty-Eight, who now stood before him, filled with anger mixed with fear from being restrained.

  "I told you, I will not kill you," Zhi Xuan said, his voice low and full of contempt. "But this duel is boring. I did not come here to spend my night fighting one man who is trembling with fear."

  Zhi Xuan rotated his body, facing directly toward the main seats, and his pale eye shone with a sharp, cold glint.

  "Bookmaker Hu," Zhi Xuan said, his voice now amplified by the restrained resonance of his Heavenly Samsara Wheel, enough to cut through the noise without using essence. "The rule of this duel is until one person can no longer stand."

  "Then why?! Are you afraid?!" Bookmaker Hu countered.

  "I am not afraid," Zhi Xuan countered, his sneer cold, deadly. "I am just impatient. Fighting one person wastes the gold coins that these Young Masters have bet. And it wastes time that I could use for cultivation."

  He pointed towards the waiting corridor.

  "I bet I will win ten consecutive duels," Zhi Xuan claimed, every word a slap. "Therefore, I will start with the heaviest bet."

  Zhi Xuan then pointed towards Bookmaker Hu. "Call the next five participants! I will face the next five numbers. This will be a Bloody Fight Worth Remembering!"

  Silence fell over the North Arena. The hush was so thick that the sound of wine sloshing from the main stands was clearly audible. The cheers, anger, and wild laughter all ceased, replaced by pure shock. Facing one person was desperate. Facing five sturdy men, fighting for their lives with only mortal bodies, was suicide.

  Suddenly, laughter erupted from Young Master Wei's main box. Young Master Wei stood up, spilling wine on his silk robe, his face radiant with excitement.

  "Crazy! He is absolutely crazy! Hu! Do it! Do what he asks! I double my bet! I bet five thousand gold coins that he will die under those five mortal fists!" Young Master Wei yelled.

  Around the stands, the silence broke into a frantic uproar. Zhi Xuan's demand had provided entertainment that Young Master Gu could never deliver. The rich cultivators scrambled to raise their bets, vying to buy this moment of madness.

  Bookmaker Hu, whose eyes were filled with greedy glint, smiled broadly. "I love your madness, boy! If you die, you will die as a legend of this arena!"

  In the corridor, the five participants who were still waiting were stunned. However, the prize of ten thousand spiritual jade coins—the highest prize—immediately triggered dark greed and hope. They looked at each other. They all knew the rumors about Zhi Xuan's strength, but five against one? That was a guarantee of victory.

  Bookmaker Hu jumped to the center of the arena, his hands raised dramatically. His face glowed with excitement and the potential for new profit.

  "DID YOU HEAR THAT?!" Bookmaker Hu roared, his voice piercing through the rumble of cheers in the stands. "PARTICIPANT TWENTY-SEVEN REFUSES TO DUEL ONE-ON-ONE! HE DEMANDS FIVE OPPONENTS AT ONCE! FIVE DESPERATE MEN AGAINST ONE ARROGANT CHILD! THIS IS NO LONGER A DUEL, THIS IS A BLOODY SLAUGHTER! FIVE AGAINST ONE! FOR TEN THOUSAND SPIRITUAL JADE COINS AND ALL THE PRIZES OF THE FALLEN OPPONENTS!"

  The cheers reached a point of hysteria. The Young Masters and rich merchants screamed, throwing jade coins and jade scrolls toward Bookmaker Hu. Side bets now swelled into tens of thousands of gold coins.

  Bookmaker Hu turned to the waiting corridor. "NUMBERS TWENTY-EIGHT, TWENTY-NINE, THIRTY, THIRTY-ONE, AND THIRTY-TWO! ENTER NOW! THE PRIZE OF TEN THOUSAND SPIRITUAL JADE COINS IS BEFORE YOUR EYES! CRUSH THIS CHILD'S ARROGANCE!"

  In the waiting corridor, the fear that had previously gripped Number Twenty-Eight was now replaced by cold desperation. He looked at the four other participants who were called. The four participants were Jiang Lei, Miss Ling, and two other sturdy men who looked like street thugs. They were all people who were angry at Zhi Xuan in the registration area.

  They looked at each other. Their fear was replaced by strong conviction. Five against one! Their best physical strength against the mortal body of a young child! This was an opportunity that would not come twice.

  The five participants—a mix of sturdy men, a tough woman, and a desperate middle-aged man—stepped into the arena, their faces filled with the fire of pure anger. They formed a semicircle around Zhi Xuan, who remained standing calmly in the center. Participant Number Twenty-Eight, though hesitant, knew he had to fight if he wanted a share of the prize.

  "I only kill those who do not tremble like chicks," Zhi Xuan said. "Do not bore me with this."

  Zhi Xuan stood in the center of the circle surrounded by five deadly shadows. His gaze was cold, transcending the madness and greed that enveloped him. He knew, out of these five people, at least two were Number Twenty-Nine, Jiang Lei and Number Thirty, Miss Ling—faces filled with the anger he had deliberately provoked.

  "The duel begins!" Bookmaker Hu roared, his voice shrouded in mad excitement.