stjorthotic Chapter 78 Victory
Chapter 78 Victory
On the arena, the dark gold patterns of the Candle Dragon Origin Mark reflected on the five people, and their attacks were like a continuous tide.
Lin Mu, relying on the two replicated marks, was able to barely predict the flow of energy when the five people made their moves, and struggled to hold on between their fists, feet, and blades.
The spear's hilt was compressed to three feet in front of him, and each parry made his hands go numb from the impact.
Just then, the crowd outside the training ground suddenly stirred.
The crowd was parted to both sides by some invisible force.
Three composed martial artists led the way, their shoulders slightly hunched and their steps steady, gently pushing aside the crowd of onlookers who were packed tightly together.
Lin Mu had only seen this kind of aura in one of the three people before—Duanmu Hong.
Three guards were protecting a scholar.
The scholar was about twenty years old, wearing a moon-white scholar's robe. The material was not particularly luxurious, but it was washed clean, and a very light and delicate ink bamboo was embroidered on the lapel.
His features were handsome and refined, with clear and bright eyes and a faint smile on his lips. He seemed to be attending a poetry gathering rather than watching a life-or-death arena.
He held a half-worn bamboo scroll in his hand, its edges worn smooth, clearly having been turned over countless times.
On the viewing platform, Duanmu Hong's eyes lit up, as if the approaching great demon was not enough to worry him.
Yu Mubai's gaze lingered on the scholar's bamboo slips for a moment, a slight smile playing on his lips before returning to his usual composed demeanor.
Lin Mu was momentarily distracted and took a heavy punch to the ribs.
Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Leopard Head's Stone Claw broke through the gun circle, its five fingers digging into his ribs, the tearing force drilling in through the air membrane.
He grunted and was blasted back several steps, his back slamming against the railing at the edge of the ring, splinters of wood falling all over him.
A trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin onto the ring.
Duanmu Hong had already stood up from his seat, his right hand resting lightly on the armrest, his fingertips pressing down slightly, ready to strike at any moment.
Lin Mu wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and gripped the spear tightly again.
His gaze swept past the five people, constantly shifting as he observed the dark gold patterns.
Two original marks, one on the shoulder well and the other on the knee bend.
He focused his mind into his dantian and tentatively extracted the two sections of the Candle Dragon Mark from his meridians, wrapping them around the golden energy of his fist strike, one on the left and one on the right.
The dark gold patterns trembled violently the moment they came into contact with the golden fist energy. The two forces repelled each other and almost exploded in the meridians.
Lin Mu groaned.
He immediately switched to another method, imitating the five people, with the original imprint flowing, one on the shoulder well and one on the knee bend.
The leopard pounced again, its rock-cracking claws aimed straight for the throat.
Instead of retreating, Lin Mu advanced, using his chest to meet the leopard's claws head-on.
The Stone Claw tore open his clothes, leaving five bloody streaks on the air membrane, but he had already flipped his right fist out from his waist.
With his body wrapped in two sections of the Candle Dragon Mark, his strength and speed increased exponentially. Like an arrow released from a bow, he struck the leopard's chest squarely.
The leopard head was hit head-on by the battering ram, its feet left the ground and it flew backward, its back hitting a wooden stake at the edge of the arena, which broke in half.
He lay there in the wood shavings, twitched twice, and then stopped moving.
The other four people paused for a beat at the same time.
Lin Mu did not wait for them to regroup.
He slammed his left foot into the ground, his body suddenly lunging forward. His coiled dragon hand gripped the tiger's head wrist joint, and the force of his fist exploded at his fingertips, shattering the bones of his entire arm into pieces.
Tiger Head screamed and retreated, but Lin Mu had already circled behind him. Lin Mu swept his Iron Sleeve Skill into the back of his knee, forcing him to kneel on one knee, followed by an elbow strike to the back of his neck.
The tiger's head slammed face down onto the ring and remained motionless.
The wolf-headed dagger stabbed from behind, but Lin Mu dodged to the side and delivered a backhand punch straight to the heart.
The fist, imbued with the Candle Dragon Mark, slammed into the wolf's head's Tanzhong acupoint, sending him flying. Upon landing, his limbs twitched several times before coming to a stop.
The owl was the last one.
Lin Mu didn't give him a chance to speak—the Mountain-Shaking Fist, with its layered, surging force, slammed directly into his chest.
The owl fell backward, its body sliding a considerable distance across the ring before coming to a stop. It struggled a couple of times before ceasing to move.
The arena fell silent.
Five corpses lay scattered on the crumbling rammed earth, their five pale yet identical faces looking eerie in the twilight.
Even more strangely, the dark gold patterns on the five people lit up at the same time.
They rose from the five corpses, intertwining in the air to form a winding band of dark gold light.
The light band resembled countless earthworms, moving silently in the twilight, their heads and tails connected, before suddenly plunging down and disappearing into the arena floor.
The rammed earth surface of the arena began to tremble.
Something is struggling, pushing, and trying to break through the soil underground.
Cracks spread out from beneath the five corpses, and dark golden light seeped out from the cracks, making the splinters of wood on the arena flicker.
An ancient and scorching aura permeated the air, the primal pressure unique to the origin of the Candle Dragon.
Lin Mu supported his body with the spear, his chest heaving violently, blood flowing down the spear shaft.
He stared intently at the crack. If that phantom reappeared, he would be no match for it in his current state.
On the viewing platform, Duanmu Hong stood up, his gaze passing over the clamor of the crowd and landing on the scholar in the crowd.
The scholar gently placed the bamboo slips on the railing in front of him, straightened his clothes, and took a step forward.
He held the half-worn bamboo slip in his right hand, made a sword-finger gesture with his left hand in front of his chest, closed his eyes, and softly recited: "Heaven and earth possess righteous energy, which manifests in various forms."
The voice wasn't loud, but every word was clearly audible to everyone inside and outside the training ground.
Wherever his left fingertip pointed, a very faint, thin layer of milky white light suddenly appeared in the air, like the first line of dawn on the horizon.
"Below are rivers and mountains, above are the sun and stars."
A pure white light emanated from the bamboo slips, an extremely pure and gentle light that made the entire scroll appear transparent.
The scholar tossed the bamboo slip toward the arena. Instead of falling, the slip hovered in mid-air, slowly unfurling. The pages fluttered in the twilight, and countless ink characters floated up from the slip, dancing around it.
"In people, it is called 'vast and righteous,' which fills the vast sky."
As the last word fell, the dark golden light band above the arena seemed to be scalded by something, and suddenly began to twist violently.
The bamboo scroll hung in mid-air, and a burst of pure white light suddenly surged forth, pouring out from the scroll like an inverted Milky Way or a great river bursting its banks. The pure white light, carrying countless flying ink characters, crashed into the arena floor from mid-air.
Where the light flowed, the dark golden patterns resembled spiderwebs licked by flames, curling, charring, and shattering inch by inch, before turning into extremely fine and pale ash and dissipating into the twilight.
The muffled thud from underground suddenly stopped.
The dark golden light in the crack completely disappeared, leaving only the bamboo scroll hanging in mid-air on the arena. The pure white light slowly receded, the pages gently closed, and it silently fell back into the scholar's hand.
He rolled up the bamboo slips again, took a step back, and disappeared behind the three guards.