The duels continued. The subsequent opponents were society's dregs; thieves and street thugs. They came with murderous intent, trying to attack his eyes. Zhi Xuan's cold anger peaked. He moved faster, more fatally. He took down four men in twenty seconds, using quick foot sweeps and brutal knee strikes to the head.

  These blows did not kill, but sent them into unconsciousness. The last man surrendered while trembling.

  The remaining fighters in the waiting area knew the risk. They moved with excessive caution, trying to stall for time until Zhi Xuan was exhausted. "We do not need to win, we just need to tire him out!" one of them whispered. Zhi Xuan, already extremely tired, allowed them to surround him for a full minute.

  Then, he released a short burst fueled by the Heavenly Samsara Wheel, disrupting their rhythm. He used two quick elbow strikes to break two men's noses and knock out the third. This duel ended quickly.

  Zhi Xuan had fought against a total of forty-five people. Zhi Xuan entered the tenth duel with a torn robe stained with blood. His breathing was heavy, no longer cold, but filled with the hot vapor of his screaming muscles. He had endured immense pain, but he had fulfilled his arrogant promise: no fatalities after the first duel, only total, painful defeat.

  No one dared to attack with cheating weapons anymore. They fell to Zhi Xuan's restrained blows, just enough to dislocate joints, knock unconscious, or break ribs. Zhi Xuan did not kill anyone after the first duel. He only crippled, fulfilling his arrogant promise that he would only make his opponents "fall."

  In the tenth Duel, Zhi Xuan faced five opponents at once. He had fought against a total of forty-five people. Zhi Xuan entered the tenth duel with a torn robe stained with blood. His breathing was heavy, no longer cold, but filled with the hot vapor of his screaming muscles.

  The five opponents in this duel were the strongest, specially chosen from the remaining participants by Bookmaker Hu to provide a final spectacle that would satisfy Young Master Wei. They were real arena fighters.

  "He is exhausted!" shouted one of the opponents, a large man with a scar-ridden face. "He can no longer sustain the Taiyin! Attack together!"

  They attacked simultaneously, their blows fast and coordinated. Zhi Xuan could only evade half of them. Two punches struck his cheek and one hit his abdomen.

  BUAGH! KERR!

  The pain was immense. He felt his cheekbone crack, and the pain in his abdomen almost made him vomit. Blood streamed from his mouth.

  "JUST FALL, BLACK-HAIRED DEVIL!" the large man shouted, lunging again.

  Zhi Xuan did not fall. His cold resolve, combined with the Summer Law within the Heavenly Samsara Wheel, erupted, giving him a very short burst of adrenaline. He grabbed the large man's fist, twisted his joint, and then used that fist to strike the head of his other opponent.

  In the last brutal thirty seconds, Zhi Xuan moved with force driven by anger. He punched, kicked, and slammed his opponents to the ground, breaking one leg and crippling two shoulders. The duel ended when Zhi Xuan, already covered in blood, took down the large man with a heavy punch to the ribs, knocking him unconscious instantly.

  The tenth duel ended. Zhi Xuan stood swaying in the center of the arena. His black-and-red robe was now a damp mass of blood and dust. Both his cheeks, one smeared with blood and the other torn, were marked with blood and scratches. His hands, from fingertips to elbows, were stained with blood—his opponents' blood and his own.

  Young Master Wei stood in his box, shouting silently, clutching his head, insane with excitement. Bookmaker Hu hit his wooden hammer repeatedly.

  "PERFECT! TEN CONSECUTIVE DUELS! FIFTY PEOPLE! HE ONLY TOOK THEM DOWN! THE GRAND PRIZE OF FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND SPIRITUAL JADE COINS BELONGS TO THE BLACK-HAIRED DEVIL!"

  Deafening cheers of joy from the main seats accompanied the announcement. Zhi Xuan collapsed to his knees, enduring the extreme pain and exhaustion. He had won his war chest.

  In the stands, Young Master Wei raised his wine cup. "The Black-Haired Devil! That is his title! The Black-Haired Devil of the Dragon Fang Arena!"

  Zhi Xuan rose from his knees, his body trembling violently, but he clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding. He got up with his hands, using his remaining strength, and stood back up. Although he managed to force his muscles to support the crushed body, the newly tempered body felt as if it had been beaten by hundreds of sledgehammers. Every breath felt like a knife slicing his lungs.

  Joyful and hysterical cheers echoed, deafening. However, for Zhi Xuan, the sound now felt distant, like a faint echo behind a sea of storm. His focus was solely on stabilizing the Taiyin Essence in his Sea of Consciousness, forcing it to support the almost shattered body, to prevent him from collapsing in the middle of the arena.

  Bookmaker Hu, whose face was now pale and covered in thick sweat, rushed towards Zhi Xuan. The fat man carried a thick animal hide scroll and an unnaturally large jade pouch. Bookmaker Hu smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes; his eyes were filled with fear and awe.

  "Black-Haired Devil! You are a legend! You have won the bet. Five hundred thousand Spiritual Jade Coins!" Bookmaker Hu exclaimed, his voice hoarse with insane financial excitement. "The Young Masters' side bets reached their peak! Young Master Wei has even paid ten thousand jade coins to see you fight again!"

  Bookmaker Hu pushed the thick jade pouch into Zhi Xuan's hand. The weight of the pouch was surprising; although filled with light Spiritual Jade Coins, the massive amount made the burden real.

  "This is all your grand prize, boy! Five hundred thousand jade coins! This is enough to buy a luxury house in this city of Shoutuo! Take this! And this," Bookmaker Hu handed over the hide scroll, "This is the Arena's acknowledgment. You are free from the mortal contract. You can leave, now, or..."

  "I will return here later," Zhi Xuan interrupted, his voice hoarse and barely audible, but containing a cold power that immediately silenced Bookmaker Hu. "I hope Young Master Gu will not have an issue with my victory."

  Bookmaker Hu, who was used to hearing threats and hysterical screams, flinched at the calmness of the voice. He was surprised that the youth who had just gone through hell still possessed hidden cruelty.

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  "Y-Young Master Gu... he will not... he respects brave winners," Bookmaker Hu stammered, trying to sound convincing, yet clearly doubting his own words.

  Zhi Xuan ignored Bookmaker Hu's nervousness. He turned on his heel, ignoring the pain in his cheekbone and ribs, and walked slowly toward the tunnel leading out of the arena, toward the now deserted waiting area. Behind him, Bookmaker Hu shouted at the low-level cultivators to clean up the blood and drag away the corpses, busy calming the rich spectators who were now demanding the next entertainment.

  'You have won the grand prize, monkey,' Ruo Xianxue grumbled, her tone filled with relief and satisfaction. 'A worthy show. Even though you look like newly minced dirt.'

  'Shut up, Ruo,' Zhi Xuan countered, his concentration split between the pain and the urgent need to move. 'This is only starting capital. I must stabilize this body as quickly as possible.'

  Zhi Xuan arrived at the waiting corridor. The corridor felt cold and dark, a contrast to the bloody light of the arena. The smell of blood and sweat was still pungent. He walked past a few arena guards who stared at him with a mixture of fear and revulsion, seeing him like a monster walking out of hell.

  He looked for the skinny youth, Number Fifteen, in the corner where he left him. However, the corridor was empty. Only a few other mortal participants remained, trembling with fear or too shocked to move.

  'He is gone. Good,' Zhi Xuan thought. 'He survived.'

  As Zhi Xuan walked towards the exit gate, he saw Miss Ling's figure lying beside the corridor, being attended to by an arena healer. Her wrist had been wrapped in a crude bandage, but the dislocation was still clearly visible. Her eyes were empty, staring at the low stone ceiling.

  Zhi Xuan stopped for a moment, ignoring his pain. He remembered Miss Ling's courage, the only one who did not surrender until crippled.

  He walked closer, pulling out a small jade scroll from his prize pouch. The scroll glowed faintly with new spiritual energy.

  "Take this," Zhi Xuan said, dropping the jade scroll beside Miss Ling.

  Miss Ling turned her head, her sharp eyes staring at the blood-soaked youth. "What is this? Blood money? Keep it, Black-Haired Devil. I do not need your charity!"

  "This is not charity. This is the cost of healing," Zhi Xuan countered coldly. "You fought bravely, and you did not use cheating weapons. This scroll contains one thousand spiritual jade coins. That is enough to heal your hand and give you new capital. Use it for a better purpose, not in this place."

  Miss Ling fell silent. Her sharp eyes were now filled with doubt. One thousand spiritual jade coins was a huge amount, enough to change a mortal's life.

  "Why?" Miss Ling whispered, her voice hoarse.

  "I had ten promises," Zhi Xuan replied, emotionless. "Nine promises for myself, one for someone else. You are a bonus to that promise. Do not waste your fight."

  Zhi Xuan did not wait for an answer. He continued his trembling steps, out of the Dragon Fang Arena gate.

  Midnight had already enveloped the city of Shoutuo, he knew he had to leave here quickly and heal his body. But just as he walked haltingly on the main street, two Zhu Clan guards who had previously met him at the east gate stopped him from behind.

  Zhi Xuan sensed the familiar Consciousness Transformation aura approaching, but much stronger and shrouded in clear, cold intent. He swallowed, forcing the Taiyin in his body to work harder to hide the exhaustion and devastating bruises.

  "Stop!" The cold and firm voice belonged to Senior Brother Qin, the elite Zhu Clan guard.

  Zhi Xuan stopped, turning slowly. He maintained an expression of calmness, even though his own blood had mingled with his black-and-red robe.

  Senior Brother Qin and Junior Brother Liu stood five steps behind him. Under the city's oil lantern light, their dark blue silk robes looked pristine, contrasting with Zhi Xuan's blood-soaked and dirty appearance. Senior Brother Qin's Consciousness Transformation aura was now fully released, pressing down on Zhi Xuan like a sledgehammer.

  "We are looking for your blood," Senior Brother Qin hissed, his cold eyes sweeping over Zhi Xuan's tattered body. "That mortal blood smell cannot hide your trail, Black-Haired Devil."

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes, a chill running down his spine. The Zhu Clan had heard about him, and they spoke his new title. That meant Young Master Gu, or at least a spy in the arena, had connected him with the Black-Haired Devil identity.

  "Apparently it is you, Seniors," Zhi Xuan replied, his voice calm, although he struggled to withstand the aura pressure. "I just finished a Dragon Fang Arena duel."

  Junior Brother Liu laughed scornfully. "The whole city is talking about the Black-Haired Devil who won a five hundred thousand jade coin bet at the Dragon Fang Arena! The blood soaking your robe, the clinging smell of mortal despair, cannot hide your identity, Little Devil."

  Senior Brother Qin stepped forward, his hand slowly raised, gathering Consciousness Transformation essence.

  "Holy Maiden Zhu is interested in you. Not because of your strength, but because of your courage to defy Young Master Gu. However, you are the same stench. The aroma of cruelty from the mortal arena clings to you."

  Zhi Xuan clenched his teeth. They did not care about his victory, but they were interested because he dared to challenge the status of the Dragon Fang Arena, which was organized by Young Master Gu. And more importantly, he was being condescended to by the Zhu Clan again.

  "If the Holy Maiden is interested, she can look for it herself," Zhi Xuan replied coldly, releasing his remaining politeness. "I am not her servant, and I do not have time to kneel before arrogant cultivators from the eastern continent."

  Those words, although hoarse and quiet, cut the air like a knife. Senior Brother Qin's eyes widened, his stiff face radiating shock that was immediately replaced by burning anger. No cultivator dared to speak like that to a Zhu Clan guard, let alone a blood-soaked Divine Wheel cultivator.

  "You dare! You will regret your arrogance, dirty rat!" Senior Brother Qin roared.

  With a speed that Zhi Xuan's crushed body could not evade, Senior Brother Qin unleashed an attack. It was the Subduing Wind Palm, a pure palm strike driven by Consciousness Transformation essence. Although he only used fifty percent of his power, the energy wave was enough to crush a mortal or make a Divine Wheel cultivator collapse.

  WHUUUMMM!

  Zhi Xuan could not dodge. The immense exhaustion and fractured bones imprisoned him. He could only raise his left hand in front of his chest.

  DDAAARR!

  The palm struck Zhi Xuan with the force of a shifting mountain. Zhi Xuan felt an agonizing pain, his already cracked ribs now feeling like they were exploding. He was thrown into the air, his body hitting the stone wall across the street with a deafening CRASH.

  Zhi Xuan collapsed to the ground, spitting a mouthful of blood mixed with small fragments. His whole body ached, and he was sure his internal organs were injured.

  Senior Brother Qin stepped closer, emotionless. "That is for your arrogance. Now, you will come with us. The Holy Maiden wants to see you."

  Junior Brother Liu, whose hand was already holding a spiritual catching rope, smirked. "Do not worry, Little Devil. We will just break a few more bones to make you docile."

  Although the pain was unbearable, and blood flowed from the corner of his mouth, Zhi Xuan did not close his eyes. He forced his mind to remain focused.

  'Ruo! What should I do?!' Zhi Xuan screamed in his Sea of Consciousness, his tone filled with instant desperation.

  'Damn it! You were too slow, monkey! I told you, the Zhu Clan is arrogant!' Ruo Xianxue countered, her tone filled with anger. 'You are severely injured. Do not fight back. Think of how to escape after you heal! Fight them now, and you will die!'

  Zhi Xuan ignored the pain, staring at Senior Brother Qin with his sharp right eye and his pale left eye. He saw the Consciousness Transformation aura approaching, and knew he had no choice.

  "I will come," Zhi Xuan said, his voice hoarse, full of contained hatred.

  Zhi Xuan had surrendered, but his cold eyes held a promise of revenge that would burn along with every crack in his ribs. He would be the Zhu Clan's pawn, for now.

  Senior Brother Qin snorted with satisfaction at Zhi Xuan's surrender. He disliked arrogance, but he appreciated obedience.

  "Junior Brother Liu, bind him. Do not let him soil the pavilion gate," Senior Brother Qin ordered.

  Junior Brother Liu tied Zhi Xuan's wrists and ankles with a faintly shining silver Spiritual Binding Rope. The rope did not bind Zhi Xuan physically, but locked a small portion of his spiritual essence, ensuring he could not escape even in his crushed state.