The atmosphere in the arena was thick with the scent of ozone and the heavy, suffocating pressure of demonic qi. Pang Hong, his face a mask of desperation, didn't hesitate. With a violent flick of his sleeve, a streak of brilliant white light sliced through the air. A new artifact emerged from his cuff, hovering between them like a miniature star.
It was a fist-sized orb, pearlescent and gleaming with an inner radiance. As it ascended to hover just above Pang Hong's head, it began to spin with a high-pitched, rhythmic hum. Almost instantly, the orb erupted, spilling out a dense, viscous curtain of white light. It didn't just shield him; it encased him in a translucent cocoon of shimmering energy. As the barrier solidified, the raw terror that had been etched into Pang Hong's features began to melt away, replaced by a smug, fragile sense of security.
Luo Zhen didn't blink. He simply narrowed his eyes, activating his system's scanning interface. A translucent HUD flickered into existence across his field of vision, overlaying the reality of the battlefield with clinical, glowing data:
Name: Sun Moon Orb
Grade: High-grade Magic Treasure
Attribute: Light
Passive Ability: Generates a high-density defensive barrier designed to negate physical and spiritual impact. Features a secondary chance-based "Reflect" trigger, turning an opponent's kinetic force back upon the source.
Wielder: Pang Hong
Luo Zhen weighed the information. A high-grade treasure—impressive, by most standards. In terms of pure defensive utility, it was a near-peer to his own Beast King Armor. If he continued to trade blows with standard blade energy, he'd be wasting his breath and his qi. He would be chipping away at a mountain with a chisel.
He didn't have time for a war of attrition. He needed a statement.
Slowly, Luo Zhen raised the Green Phoenix Blade. The emerald steel caught the light, looking more like a sliver of the deep forest than a weapon of war. He hadn't yet pushed this blade to its absolute limit—not since he'd acquired it. Today, Pang Hong would serve as the benchmark.
"Berserk Emperor Slay," Luo Zhen whispered, the words lost in the roar of the wind.
It was the blade's ultimate active skill, a technique designed to bypass the subtleties of combat in favor of overwhelming, catastrophic force. As he channeled his demonic qi, the blade didn't just glow; it seemed to drink the light from the surrounding arena.
Sensing the shift in the air, Pang Hong panicked. He knew he couldn't just sit behind his barrier. With a roar that sounded more like a cornered animal than a king, he gripped his steel spear and lunged. He moved with a blurred speed, his weapon tracing a thousand lethal arcs in the air. A tidal wave of spear-shadows erupted, a wall of jagged steel rushing toward Luo Zhen like a collapsing dam.
Luo Zhen remained a statue amidst the storm. He felt the vast, thrumming reservoir of his demonic qi surge through his veins, pouring into the hilt of the Green Phoenix Blade. The weapon shuddered, responding to the call.
Then, the world turned emerald.
A colossal blade phantom, stretching over a hundred meters into the sky, materialized above the arena. It was a monolith of pure, destructive intent, piercing the clouds and casting a long, dark shadow over the terrified spectators. Pang Hong's eyes went wide, the pupils shrinking to pinpricks as he looked up at the literal weight of his own demise.
Luo Zhen brought his arm down.
BOOM!
The sound wasn't just a noise; it was a physical shockwave that rattled the teeth of everyone within a mile. The giant phantom blade didn't just meet Pang Hong's spear-shadows—it erased them. It sliced through the tidal wave of steel like a hot knife through silk and slammed directly into the white sanctuary of the Sun Moon Orb.
The orb's barrier shrieked. For twelve agonizing seconds, the high-grade treasure fought back, the white light flickering and pulsing as it tried to redistribute the impossible pressure. But it was like trying to hold back the ocean with a glass door.
With a sickening crack, the Sun Moon Orb shattered into a thousand useless fragments. The barrier dissolved into mist. Without its protection, Pang Hong was left standing alone beneath the falling sky. The emerald phantom swallowed him whole.
The dust took nearly a minute to settle. When the air finally cleared, a jagged, smoking trench had been carved into the center of the arena—three meters wide and a hundred meters long, as if a god had drawn a line in the dirt. At the very bottom of the pit lay Pang Hong. He was a broken shell, his skin painted in his own blood, gasping for air that his lungs could no longer hold.
Beside him lay his natal treasure, the Steel Shadow Spear, snapped like a dry twig. Its spiritual light had long since gone dark.
Luo Zhen sheathed his blade with a metallic click. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent a spark of dark red flame dancing toward the trench. The Crimson Essence Fire landed on the dying man, and in a flash of intense, silent heat, Pang Hong was reduced to nothing but fine gray ash.
"Target neutralized: Demon King Pang Hong. Experience Points Gained: 80,000," the system's cold, feminine voice chimed in his mind.
Luo Zhen sighed, a hint of disappointment crossing his face. Eighty thousand? He was a Mid-stage Demon King, and Pang Hong had been his equal in rank. For all that effort and the consumption of his qi, the payout was barely enough to move the needle on his progress bar. This was exactly why he preferred the calculated hunt for spirit herbs and rare elixirs over senseless slaughter. The "Return on Investment" for killing was, frankly, abysmal.
He retracted his flames and turned away from the scorched earth, walking toward the assembly of other Demon Kings. The silence of the crowd broke into a cacophony of voices as he approached.
"Incredible! A decisive victory for City Lord Luo!" one of the kings shouted, his voice tinged with a newfound, nervous respect.
"To strike down a man like Pang Hong with such ease... It's unheard of," another whispered. "He's practically peerless in the Mid-stage realm."
Luo Zhen played the part of the modest victor, nodding politely to the sycophants and the genuine admirers alike. However, he noticed King Wu standing off to the side, looking as though he'd just swallowed a lemon. Wu wasn't mourning his fallen peer; he was realizing that he was now the sole representative of Feisha City. In a tournament built for pairs, he was now a man standing on one leg.
The tournament coordinator, a stern-faced Demon King, stepped into the center of the clearing to restore order. "The blood feud is settled. Now, we return to the matter at hand: the Ranking Competition."
He explained the familiar bureaucracy. Ten major cities, but only eight would draw lots today. The two most powerful cities were ruled by Peak-stage Great Demon Kings—beings so far beyond the standard rank-and-file that they were granted automatic immunity from the preliminary draws. No one challenged this. In the Red Desert, power wasn't just a status; it was the law.
Luo Zhen drew his lot: a wooden tag with a specific insignia. After the officials tallied the results, the first-round matchups were announced.
"First Match: Yinhuan City vs. Qingshuang City. Second Match: Huangfeng City vs. Huoyun City. Third Match: Lieguang City vs. Cangyue City. Fourth Match: Hongyan City vs. Feisha City."
Luo Zhen looked over at King Wu. The irony wasn't lost on him. They were supposed to be the final fight of the day.
"Wait, wait," King Wu said, stepping forward with a self-deprecating wave of his hand. "I'm a realist. My partner is Ash, and my opponent is the man who turned him into ash. I'm not looking to commit suicide today. Feisha City forfeits."
A ripple of laughter went through the crowd, but it was sympathetic. No one blamed him. Luo Zhen gave Wu a respectful nod—a silent thank you for saving them both the time.
With the first round underway, the arena transformed into a chaotic display of elemental fury and ancient artifacts. Luo Zhen took a seat on the periphery, watching the battles with a clinical eye. He struck up a conversation with Xie Jun, the Lord of Huangfeng City.
"A quick question, City Lord Xie," Luo Zhen said, gesturing toward the far end of the seating area where two figures sat in high, ornate chairs, radiating an aura of absolute stillness. "The Great Demon Kings—they just watch?"
Xie Jun chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "They don't just watch; they preside. Look at them—Peak-stage powerhouses. They have subordinates who are Demon Kings in their own right. For us to demand they draw lots would be like a housecat demanding a tiger follow the rules of the hearth. Unless you feel like challenging them for their seat, City Lord Luo? If you win, you get to skip the paperwork, too."
Luo Zhen glanced at the two "Invincibles." He knew that with his full arsenal—and perhaps a desperate summoning of the Nine-Headed Hydra—he might actually stand a chance at toppling one. But the political cost was too high. These kings were often vassals of the Silver Flood Dragon Clan. Killing one was like kicking a hornet's nest with a Demon Emperor inside.
"I think I'll pass," Luo Zhen said. "I like my life quiet."
The day dragged on as the matches concluded. Yinhuan City squeezed out a victory. Huangfeng City, led by Xie Jun, fought a grueling battle to advance. Finally, Cangyue City took the stage. Luo Zhen watched closely as the Blue Wolf King, an old acquaintance from the Spirit Pool Secret Realm, fought with a savage, calculated grace. Alongside his partner, he secured his spot in the second round.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the host called the winners forward for the next draw.
"The matchups for tomorrow morning: Hongyan City versus Huangfeng City. Yinhuan City versus Cangyue City."
Luo Zhen turned to see Xie Jun and his partner, Wei Rui, looking at him with expressions of pure dread.
"Brother Luo," Xie Jun said, walking over with a pained smile. "Please... go easy on us tomorrow. We've been friends for a long time, and I'd like to keep all my limbs."
"Don't listen to him!" the Blue Wolf King shouted, walking over with a boisterous laugh. "Luo, my friend, give them a thrashing! I've wanted to see Xie Jun's face bruised for three hundred years!"
The tension of the day began to bleed away into the easy camaraderie of veteran warriors. The Blue Wolf King introduced his partner, the Barbarian Bull King—a massive, silent man in gray robes who seemed to communicate primarily through grunts and stoic stares.
"He's not being rude," the Blue Wolf King whispered to Luo Zhen. "He's just spent the last five centuries forgetting how to talk to people. He's a good man in a fight, though."
"I can respect that," Luo Zhen replied. He had always preferred the silent types anyway.
"Enough shop talk," Xie Jun suggested. "The matches are over for the day. Why don't we find something to drink?"
The Blue Wolf King's eyes lit up. "I thought you'd never ask. I've got a cellar's worth of fine wine in my storage ring, and I just bought a villa overlooking Thunder Lake. Let's make a night of it."
The group made their way to a sprawling estate on the water's edge. It was a masterpiece of architecture, with open balconies that caught the cool evening breeze coming off the lake. The Blue Wolf King wasted no time, setting up layers of soundproofing enchantments so they could speak freely without the prying ears of the other lords.
As the wine began to flow, Luo Zhen raised his cup toward the Blue Wolf King. "A toast. For your help in the Secret Realm. I haven't forgotten."
"Bah, ancient history," the Wolf King said, clinking his cup against Luo Zhen's. "You've more than proven you can handle yourself since then. But I'll take the drink."
Luo Zhen wasn't much for parties. He usually found the noise and the forced sociality exhausting, preferring the cold silence of meditation. But as he sat back in the plush chair, listening to the old king's trade stories of battles won and treasures lost, he found himself relaxing. The wine was bitter, but the company was honest.
Tomorrow, he would have to step back into the arena and defeat his new friends. But for tonight, beneath the moonlight of Thunder Lake, the blade stayed in its sheath.