Chapter 239: Cloud Empire (59)

Kyrian advanced.

Qi flowed through his eyes like fuel and enveloped his sword and, mixed with it, the sword intent condensed in an invisible, yet palpable way. The air around the blade seemed to compress.

On the other side, Kuang also moved.

Metal Qi shone intensely along the spear. The weapon seemed heavier, denser, as if it had been forged again at that exact instant. The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly as he propelled his body forward.

They collided at the center of the arena.

Sword and spear met with a dry bang.

This time, Kuang changed the rhythm. He twisted his body and brought the spear down from above in a crushing blow. Metallic Qi concentrated at the tip, brutally increasing the penetration and weight of the strike.

Kyrian crossed his sword to block. The impact was violent.

The spear descended like a celestial hammer. Kyrian was forced to lower the blade to absorb the blow, his feet digging into the arena floor. The stone pavement gave way under the pressure.

For a brief instant, it seemed as if he was being crushed.

The audience held its breath.

Kyrian’s arms vibrated with the force transmitted by the spear. He felt Kuang’s raw power pressing down, trying to break his defense.

Then, the corner of his lips curved slightly, a short smile. Kyrian began to find it interesting.

With a sudden flick of his wrist, Kyrian turned the sword sideways. The spear slid along the blade and struck the ground at an angle, producing a shower of sparks.

Kuang stepped back half a step to regain his balance.

Kyrian advanced again, but not to attack with full force. From that moment on, he entered a different rhythm of battle.

Kuang then began to press. The spear moved like a metallic storm. Direct thrusts, lateral cuts, wide sweeps. The Metal Qi increased with each movement, concentrating at the tip of the weapon with a cold, cutting glow.

Each strike carried a terrifying capacity for penetration.

Kyrian retreated. He dodged by centimeters. He twisted his body at the exact moment.

He blocked only when necessary, and always at the perfect angle to dissipate most of the force. To the audience, it seemed as though he was being pushed back.

Kuang advanced with absolute strength, dominating space, forcing Kyrian to yield ground.

But the most attentive noticed something different. Kyrian was not panting. There was no real tension in his movements. He was reading the opponent completely, just as in the other fights.

Observing every muscular contraction of Kuang. Every shift of the shoulder. Every minimal adjustment in the wrist before the strike.

And, while defending, he counterattacked in an almost imperceptible way. A quick cut to the forearm. A superficial scratch on the other arm.

A precise line appeared on Kuang’s cheek when the sword passed centimeters from his face. Kuang was accumulating injuries. Small, but numerous.

Blood soon began to stain his sleeves.

Kyrian, on the other hand, did not have a single scratch. The difference became evident.

The rhythm of the spear began to grow heavier, yet even faster. More aggressive and less calculated.

Kuang frowned as he realized that, despite pressing, he could not hit the target.

“Stop running like a coward!” he snarled, his voice echoing through the arena.

Kyrian shrugged as he dodged another thrust.

“You’re simply not strong enough to reach me.” Kyrian replied calmly.

He tilted his head slightly.

“Do I have to drain all your blood to make you give up the fight?”

The phrase fell like oil on fire. Kuang’s eyes reddened with rage. The Metal Qi around him exploded. The ground beneath his feet began to vibrate.

He spun the spear horizontally, tracing a circle in the air. Metallic Qi condensed into complex patterns around the weapon. Small fragments of cutting energy began to form around him, like invisible blades ready to be launched.

It was a battle technique. And from the amount of Qi being poured in rapidly, it was not a simple technique. The pressure in the arena increased abruptly. Even from the stands, many felt the intensity of the technique forming.

Kyrian narrowed his eyes. If he blocked that head-on using only his sword and Qi, he might not come out completely unscathed.

There would be damage, and Kyrian did not want that. He also did not want to switch to the ice ocular pair, in which he possessed the best defense.

Kuang pulled the spear back, preparing to release the technique.

At that instant, Kyrian made a decision. His left hand slowly rose to his face. He touched his own right eye. And then pulled.

The movement was simple. But what emerged was not. From the interior of his right eye, a sword formed. It was not metal, it was not common sharpened energy. It was pure sword intent, condensed to the very limit of materialization that Kyrian could achieve. Transparent and at the same time sharp, beyond common comprehension.

A sword made entirely of will.

The arena fell into absolute silence. Kuang was still in the middle of forming the technique when the flying sword shot forward.

It crossed the distance between the two in less than a blink. The Metallic Qi had not yet been fully released.

The blade stopped centimeters from Kuang’s neck.

The air vibrated. A thin and sharp sound echoed as the sword intent pressed against his skin. A trickle of blood appeared immediately.

The Metal Qi technique dissipated. The spear trembled in Kuang’s hand. He felt it.

He felt that if the sword advanced just one centimeter, his head would fall.

Meanwhile, Kyrian remained motionless. His hand still extended forward. His gaze was calm.

“Do you surrender?” he asked briefly.

The sword vibrated again. Another thin line of blood ran down Kuang’s neck.

The silence in the arena was total. Kuang clenched his teeth. Pride burned in his chest. But he knew. He had lost.

The spear fell from his hand.

“I… surrender.”

The sword of intent disappeared at that very instant, dissolving into the air as if it had never existed. Kyrian lowered his hand.

Elder Tian watched with slightly narrowed eyes. After a brief moment, his voice echoed.

“Victory of Kyrian.”

The Coliseum then exploded into voices once more. Some are in shock. Others in excitement. Kyrian had already risen to rank 68. Everyone wondered what his limit would be. After all, with each fight, he demonstrated that he was far above what they could even imagine.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep