Chapter 411: The King of the METAL (2/2)
Lie Jian channeled his energy to levitate himself. Despite the spike in his power, he conceded that he was still inferior in terms of skills compared to Patroclus. Therefore, his plan became clear: overwhelming his opponent with sheer power.
As the blue flames surged around him, Lie Jian doubled down on his strategy. He hadn't mastered the new ability yet, and therefore, it would be wise to finish his opponent in one go instead of being mired in a prolonged confrontation.
Surrounded by blue flames, Lie Jian swooped down on Patroclus like a blue cannonball. Every Ivantian screamed in their mind as the deadly attack drew closer to their prince. The thought of such belligerent attack landing on Patroclus filled the hearts of the audience with sorrow. Meanwhile, all Martians cheered and shouted, fueling the blue flame to burn with an unprecedented heat. Lie Jian knew that Patroclus would not back down; he had been playing along with his plan all the while after all, so why would he stop here?
As Lie Jian doubled down on his attack, he had sworn to let Patroclus pay the price of conceit.
Lie Jian had learned about the danger of being arrogant the hard way during the last tournament, and he could smell the same mistake from miles away.
”GO TO HELL!”
Lie Jian shouted as he born down on Patroclus with his flaming fist. But from the corner of Lie Jian's eyes, he caught a glimpse of Patroclus's face and his ominous smile.
The small curl on Patroclus's lips seemed to turn the world upside down, tossing out the clamor and noise and leaving only a tranquil serenity. In this calm and placid world, a silver light emerged and turned into a lance.
Finally, the audiences had seen what they had come for: the legendary Deva Lance.
The blue flame reached Patroclus and immediately bounced off of him. Lie Jian thudded on the ground and helplessly watched the blue flame be drawn out by the cool silvery light of the lance.
Rockefeller was speechless at the sight of the lance. He had been dedicated his entire life to the research of Ivantian weapons, and it was the first time he saw the holy grail of his search: the Deva Lance.
The future had already been in the hands of Ivantians on the day of Patroclus's birth.
Patroclus's advantage over his opponent was overwhelming. Even Lie Jian's coup de grace under the aid of his newfound power had failed to beat him. Since the beginning of the battle, Lie Jian had no chance of delivering a solid blow: the gap in their power was unbridgeable.
With a simple swing of his lance, Patroclus had stolen the hearts of all audiences. No one could defeat him as long as he had the lance, and the world would kneel before him.
Inside the medic room, Wang Tong fixed his eyes on the screen as he marveled at Patroclus's power. His next opponent's performance had turned his blood boiling. It was not common for Wang Tong to feel the urge to defeat anyone, but he felt the desire—then and there—burning in his belly.
Aside from the eagerness for battle, Wang Tong also felt blessed that the Dower had given him such a capable opponent. Nothing meant more to a warrior than a good fight.
Patroclus, the heir of gods, had advanced into the final without a single scratch.
The Ivantian's excitement was beyond description as they basked under other race's envious stares.
All earthlings' thoughts were on Wang Tong's injury. They wondered if Wang Tong would be able to recover in time to face his seemingly invincible opponent.
To most people, the fate of the final match was already sealed. Once Patroclus used his lance, no one could defeat him, much less a now-wounded dark horse.
The outcome seemed so inevitable that despair quickly spread through the city of Shangjin, and even into Ayrlarng.
Wang Tong had tried, and he had already proven himself, but no one expected him to win against a god.
”Stop moving! The doctor told you to lay still!” Ma Xiaoru urged Wang Tong.
Despite her caution, she helped Wang Tong off the bed and walked out of the room with everyone's heart hanging in their throat.