So This Is My So-Called Doom?

With Lightfoot Technique enhancing his movements, Ronald's footwork became increasingly agile. His speed soared, leaving Ye Xiaochi's storm-like assault landing on empty air.

It was like trying to smash a feather with a hammer—powerful, yet completely ineffective.

In contrast, Ronald's plasma sword danced through the air, light yet deadly, crackling with thunderous energy. Stroke by stroke, he gradually regained the advantage.

The two clashed for dozens of rounds, yet neither could claim the upper hand.

The spectators were utterly enthralled—gasps of awe and shouts of excitement filled the arena.

Though Ye Xiaochi held the advantage in raw power, Ronald's Qi reserves seemed inexhaustible. As the battle raged past a hundred exchanges, Ronald's Lightfoot Technique reached new heights, his movements fluid like flowing water.

Meanwhile, sweat began to bead on Ye Xiaochi's forehead.

The Nightfiend Clan feared heat, and the plasma sword's scorching energy was sapping his strength at an alarming rate.

Ronald's blade slashed forward—catching a flicker of unease in Ye Xiaochi's eyes, he instantly realized something.

With a smirk, he tapped a hidden switch on his sword's hilt.

BZZZT!

The blade's glow intensified, surging with even more heat.

"Energy Surge!"

Plasma swords were high-tech relics from the space age, crafted with intricate mechanisms. Tweaking the energy output to radiate additional heat? Child's play.

Ye Xiaochi's expression shifted. A suffocating wave of heat crashed over him, his body recoiling from the burning intensity. As they exchanged another flurry of blows, sweat now poured down his blue-tinted skin, his body beginning to flush red.

Up in the VIP Pavilion, Mo Yan and the black-robed elder frowned.

Meanwhile, Luo Shuihan let slip a faint smile, a captivating curve forming on her lips.

"The Nightfiend Clan is a branch of the Seafolk—their bodies are naturally attuned to cold and darkness. They are extremely vulnerable to heat-based attacks," she said.

The elder's voice remained cold. "Your Highness, while that may be true, the Nightfiend Clan's physical resilience far surpasses that of humans. If this drags on, the outcome remains uncertain."

"Oh?" Luo Shuihan's eyes flickered with intrigue as she watched Ronald's nimble movements on the stage.

"Grand Elder, you seem to forget—the Ancient Humans never relied solely on their physical strength to fight."

The elder frowned. "The Ancient Era is long past. Today's humans are no longer what they once were."

"But they are still human, are they not?"

Her gaze drifted toward a shadowed corner of the arena, where a pair of calm, icy eyes watched her in return…

Back on the stage, Ronald's plasma sword burned brighter with each strike, forcing Ye Xiaochi to go on the defensive. His attacks slowed. His footwork wavered.

Ronald, on the other hand, only grew faster, stronger, and sharper—completely suppressing his opponent!

The crowd erupted.

"Despicable human! He's exploiting the Nightfiend Clan's weakness!"

"A disgrace! This isn't a fair fight!"

The beastfolk spectators roared in protest.

But the human audience quickly fired back.

"Wasn't this Nightfiend just itching to sign a Life-or-Death Pact a moment ago? Where's all that bravado now?"

"If sea monsters want to invade the land, they better be ready to be grilled!"

A verbal war broke out, sending the beastfolk into a furious frenzy.

When it came to trash talk, humans were undoubtedly the reigning champions of the continent.

CLANG! CLANG! BOOM!

Ye Xiaochi barely parried Ronald's strikes. His steel trident trembled in his grip, the heat scorching his hands red.

He was losing.

With a grunt, he suddenly leaped back, retreating to the edge of the arena, gasping for breath.

"Ronald… I admit, you're strong. Stronger than Mo Yu. You forced me to use this move—"

"Your death is at hand!"

His roar echoed across the stage.

CRACK! CRACK!

His bones snapped and shifted, his tail flicking violently.

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

Three razor-sharp white bone spines shot toward Ronald like arrows!

CLANG!

Ronald barely deflected one.

But the other two—

BANG! BANG!

They pierced through his guard, striking his body!

THUD!

Ronald was blown backward, skidding across the ground!

"Ronald!"

"Mu Fan!"

Qin Xue and Mia shot to their feet, faces pale with shock.

Qin Ji's eyes darkened. "That's the Nightfiend Clan's Venom-Tail Strike—a last-resort killing move!"

The crowd exploded in cheers.

In mere moments, the battle had flipped on its head.

Ronald lay motionless.

Unmoving.

His fate—unknown.

"We've won!"

Mo Yan burst into laughter, while the black-robed elder smirked.

Even Li Feiyun, the arena master, frowned. He glanced at the pale, gasping Ye Xiaochi, about to speak—

But then—

A sudden chill crawled up his spine.

A voice, low and steady, echoed across the bloodstained arena.

"So… this is the 'death' you promised me?"