11 Tournament Part 2 (1/2)

Two people stood facing each other on the battle stage.

The young man's lustrous black hair reached his shoulder. His eyes faintly shone with crimson light inside. He wore a blue loose robe. He was Shura.

The young woman had pale skin and beautiful silver hair that reached down to her back. Her eyes were deep purple and she wore a beautiful white battle-dress. She held a pale blue sword in her hand. She was Silis, the greatest genius of Violetwood City, who was already a second layer Spirit Lord at the age of 18.

Most people on Short Continent would only step into the Spirit Lord level when they were in their late 30s. Some lacking talent in cultivation would never be able to step into the Spirit Lord level in their entire life.

Shura shook his head and smiled wryly. He wasn't good at fighting, so he'd prefer it if he didn't have to fight. It was a shame that this was a world where strength and violence were above everything else. And that was why he had to fight even if he wasn't good at it. But if he kept practicing and training, and going through life-and-death battles, then he would surely become more proficient at it someday.

Maybe he would like fighting very much then.

”Begin!” the referee shouted.

Shura heard that same word many times today. But this was the final match. It would be the last time he would hear it.

Shura attacked. Wrathfire energy materialized outside his body in a barrage of punches that shot toward his opponent.

He had to overwhelm her from the start. Although he was quite confident in his advantages, he didn't let it get over his head. This second layer Spirit Lord wouldn't be an easy opponent. He couldn't let her get a hit on him, or it'd be over.

He was after the first place after all.

The air vibrated as a barrage of massive crimson fists punched at the young woman.

The young woman's pale hand moved and her sword slashed at the incoming fists.

Blue sword light cut through the fists and headed for Shura in an instant. There was no time to even dodge.

”Y-”

Shura's wrathfire energy crazily poured into his skin to increase his defensive strength.

The sharp light sliced into his chest. It had not hit any major organs. A moment later a cold pain moved diagonally across his chest. Shura crouched down in pain and touched his chest. The wrathfire had instantly dissipated when the sword light struck.

He poured more wrathfire into the wound to neutralize the frost energy, but they were instantly frozen and vanished when it came into contact with the wound.

Shura's vision became blurry. How was this even possible? He had cultivated with the Wrathfire Refinement technique. While it wasn't a defensive technique, wrathfires were immeasurably powerful. A fully mature wrathfire could turn even a Saint into ashes on contact. How could it be so weak in front of a cultivator from a backward place?

Shura had forgotten that his own cultivation was lacking, and thus, the effect of his own techniques would also be inferior.

The sharpest blade in the hand of a toddler wouldn't be able to inflict harm to anyone.

'This wasn't how it was supposed to happen,' Shura thought.

The girl had a calm expression on her face as if she was seeing a normal thing. She didn't regard Shura as anything at all. He was nothing in her eyes.

Shurra gritted his teeth and mobilized his wrathfire to his wound to neutralize the frost. It was was still a futile attempt. The frost energy was more powerful than his own wrathfire energy.

Shura stood up unsteadily. ”I don't like that look in your eyes,” he said coldly.

The young woman didn't change her expression at all, acting as if she didn't understand him.

”It looks like you won't understand unless I beat you up. Very well, it'd be boring otherwise anyway!” Shura shouted.

Shura's hands quickly moved in the air and drew complicated symbols one after another. He had a disdainful expression on his face. He didn't care anymore about revealing this trump card. Does this continent have Spellmasters? He didn't care if it did or not. So what if others were curious. Want my secrets? Want my treasures? Then they would die!

The symbols condensed into light in the shape of a long sword before the light turned into a solid, material sword.

The appearance of this sword was the same as his sword that he had gotten from the first demon he had killed.

This was a low-level spell that allowed the Spellmaster to construct a temporary weapon. If the Spellmaster was at a high level, the weapon could theoretically last forever.