The Fighting Continues
And so many smaller matches began. On the rightmost ring, two young boys fought. It was a shameful and disgusting fight. The two just beat each other with barbaric punches, with no method or qi. It was a street fight. On the opposite end, however, the fight was over almost as soon as it began. The challenger's opponent got one-shotted. And the ring in the middle had a similar fate as well.
One might wonder why one would even participate in matchups so drastic and unfair. But they exist, and so do people who participate, risking their entire lives and pushing themselves against much superior power.
The seer got off his seat and decided to head to the under levels of the arena to check up on Zhihao.
The infirmary was already teeming with people. Third-rate martial artists who had lost to supreme grades. It had not been more than half an hour, and already all the beds were full of extremely injured, near-death people who were one-shotted off.
"Do you know anything about medicine?" one of the nurses asked, looking extremely hopeful.
"Yes, yes, he does," the legendary doctor Han replied on his behalf.
He then turned to the seer. "Zhihao is in bad condition, and I need people. So if you can take a look at those patients suffering from minor injuries, it will free up some experts," he said and rushed off with the nurse, not needing to hear the seer's reply.
"Maybe not such a bad thing to have contact with a doctor," the seer murmured.
The underground halls were all empty straightways with labeled rooms that mentioned the severity of injuries and what to treat. Right across the room that the seer was in was the room of people who got out with minor grazes and little to no injuries, but they got treated by the best regardless, of whether it was a scrape or amputation.
The seer tapped a nurse's shoulder to draw her attention.
"Do you need any help?" he asked.
The nurses all wore dark greenish clothes with their hair tied up by a white ribbon. That was standard attire. The doctors, however, wore white and slightly bluish robes, the sky blue one signifying the status of being one of the best.
"Of course, how about I show you? You see this line of beds; you take care of them, and you can leave afterward," she said, secretly signaling the other nurse to attend to other patients elsewhere. Something, however, felt very off. She vanished after she had dumped some of her workload.
The seer did not quite understand the reason for such behavior. Maybe they did not wish to deal with some VIPs, but then the seer treated one, then two, and then three patients. The reason, however, suddenly became evident when he got around to patching up the eighth patient.
She looked simple enough to the seer at first, simple enough to not bat an eye and focus on his job. And so he did.
She just had some minor scrapes on her knees and cheeks, no need whatsoever for a nurse. But the proud bastards refused to patch themselves up, and so the seer was here.
"I'll be okay, right, Doctor?" the girl spoke with sparkly eyes as if she had stage 3 cancer.
The seer cringed but ignored it. He had built up some resistance to it all.
The seer dipped the cotton in antiseptic and tried to apply it to her wound.
"Nyaaaaahh!" she screamed.
The seer gritted his teeth and continued his work.
"Please be gentle," the girl said, looking away with flushed pink cheeks.
The seer had built up some resistance to this nonsense, though not enough to spare this girl. It was not obvious before, but he could see the resemblance now. She was likely a blood relative of the girl he had encountered topside in the stadium.
The seer kicked the bed as he pulled out his AK from his spatial ring. The bed was rather light, and it toppled, taking the patient down with it.
"That's it! You and your sister are both gonna be victims of my AK-47!" the seer raged, holding up an AK-47 on his right shoulder and stomping on the toppled bed with his right foot.
"You can't just kick me like that. You will take responsibility right?" the girl said.
"Whoa, whoa there, buddy," Zhihao and Lin Hua stepped in and grabbed the seer from each arm, disabling him from shooting her.
But the seer's reach was enough for him to give her another kick.
"Nyah, Yamete," the girl groaned.
"What the fuck, bitch? That's not even Chinese!" the seer could not have screamed louder. He freed himself from the clutches of his friends thanks to that. His eyes burned red.
"That's it, extendo mag it is," the seer let off intense bloodlust. He pulled out a bullet magazine and replaced it with a thicker one.
The seer had once before been entangled with the Gin family, and he had no happy memories of it. The House of Cringelords, he used to call them. His initial days were full of suffering here in Murim, and a major part of it was due to the Gins, the House of Cringelords. It took the seer a while, but the memory he shut off was forcefully activated.
Zhihao was too weak and mummified to hold back the seer, and Lin Hua was not exactly in top shape for some reason for quite a small while.
All in all, nobody could stop the seer. The seer was a reasonable person, but over time, there were two groups that he had grown to hate to the core.
One was the Gins, and the other was the Nuwa women from the Nuwa cult who lived in isolation and were not well-known around the world. Almost no one knew of this group of women, and they never will, for it was the seer who made sure they were wiped from existence.
These are the two groups the seer would kill on sight, with no discrimination whatsoever. However, somehow, among the vast collection of the seer's stories, there still remains the story of how the seer destroyed this hidden tribe that only exists in people's folklore.