Chapter 64
The black blade came down.
The man with the axe did not even have time to scream. Elijah's blade cut through his neck halfway before the man's own momentum carried him forward, completing the severing.
His headless body stumbled past Elijah, took two more steps, and collapsed against the chain-link fence.
The axe clattered to the concrete. Blood sprayed across the cage floor, mixing with the blood already there, dark and wet under the blinding lights.
The crowd was not silent this time. They were shouting, screaming, some of them cheering, some of them cursing. Money changed hands in the stands, bets being settled, odds being recalculated.
But Elijah did not hear any of it. His ears were ringing, his vision was blurring, and the wound in his side was burning like someone had pressed a hot iron against his skin.
He needed to end this. Not just the fight. The bleeding. The bullet was still inside him, lodged somewhere beneath his ribs, and every movement pushed it deeper.
The Control breathing was holding, but barely. He could feel his body failing, piece by piece, second by second.
He looked at the cage door. Men were already coming in to remove the body. They moved faster now, more efficiently, dragging the corpse away without looking at Elijah. They had seen this before. They would see it again.
Elijah did not wait for the next fighter
His hand went to his side, fingers probing the wound. The bullet was still there. He could feel it, a hard lump beneath his skin, surrounded by torn flesh and leaking blood.
He needed to get it out.
But there was no time. The seventh fighter was already stepping through the door.
The crowd's reaction changed. The shouting grew louder, more urgent. Elijah looked up.
The man who entered was smaller than the others, leaner, with a mask that covered only his eyes. His hair was white, not gray, not silver, but white like snow, cut short against his scalp.
His eyes were red, the same red as Elijah's, and they looked at him with something that might have been respect.
His aura was a bright gold, the color of sunlight on water, and it pulsed around him in steady, powerful waves.
Beginner Knight Stage High.
Elijah pushed himself off the fence.
The man with the white hair raised his fists.
Elijah breathed.
In, Hold, Out.
He reached for Zenith. One hundred percent. The red aura exploded around him, brighter than before, pushing against the gold aura of the man across the cage. The Flash Step technique hummed in his legs. The Iron Body technique hardened his skin.
His stats shifted behind his eyes.
But the numbers were wrong. They had always been wrong. Strength and speed and agility all bundled together into a single number that did not tell the full story. He could feel it now, the difference between power and motion, between hitting hard and moving fast.
"System," Elijah said, his voice low. "Remove speed from Strength. Make Agility its own stat."
The screen flickered.
[Restructuring stats...]
[Strength and Agility will now be separate attributes.]
[Base Stats Updated:]
Strength: 25
Agility: 25
Endurance: 27
Defense: 28
Intelligence: 32
Charm: 24
Willpower: 20
[Zenith 100% Active: All physical stats increased by 100%]
Strength: 25 → 50
Agility: 25 → 50
Endurance: 27 → 54
Defense: 28 → 56
[Passive Techniques Active: Flash Step (20% Agility increase) | Iron Body (20% Defense increase)]
Agility: 50 → 60
Defense: 56 → 67
Elijah looked at the numbers and smiled.
He had lost a year of his life. The system had warned him about this. Using Zenith at one hundred percent before creating his Ki seed would decrease his lifespan.
A year was nothing compared to what he would gain.
The man with the white hair attacked.
He was fast. Faster than anyone Elijah had faced tonight. His gold aura blazed as he crossed the distance between them, his fist aimed at Elijah's face. Elijah's Ki sense read the trajectory, and his body moved.
The Flash Step technique carried him to the side, and the man's fist passed through empty air. Elijah answered with a punch of his own, his fist driving toward the man's ribs. The man's Ki sense read it, and he twisted, the punch grazing his side instead of landing clean.
They circled each other, trading strikes, testing each other's defenses. The man was stronger than Elijah in terms of cultivation, but the gap was not as wide as it should have been. Zenith pushed Elijah's stats higher, and the Flash Step and Iron Body techniques gave him edges that the man did not expect.
The man threw a kick at Elijah's injured side. Elijah's Ki sense screamed, and he dropped, the kick passing over his head. He swept his leg at the man's standing foot, and the man stumbled, his balance breaking for just a moment.
Elijah did not press the advantage. He stepped back.
The man caught himself, his gold aura flickering. He looked at Elijah, his red eyes narrowed.
"Why didn't you finish it?" the man asked.
Elijah did not answer. He could have. He could have driven his blade into the man's chest while he was off balance. He could have ended the fight right there. But the man had not tried to kill him. Not really. He had pulled his punches, held back his strength, fought with restraint.
The man deserved the same.
Elijah said. "Yield."
The man stared at him for a moment.
He raised his fists again, and this time, his gold aura burned brighter. He was not holding back anymore.
They clashed again. Fists and feet, blocks and strikes, each exchange faster than the last. The man was skilled, his technique clean, his movements efficient.
Elijah caught the man's punch on his forearm, felt the impact but did not flinch. The Iron Body technique held. He drove his palm into the man's chest, and the man stumbled back, his gold aura flickering.
"That's enough," Elijah said.
The man stopped. His chest was heaving, his red eyes wide. He looked at Elijah's face, at the blood covering his body, at the way he stood despite the bullet still lodged in his side.
"Why didn't you?"
Elijah lowered his fists. "Just yield."
The man was silent for a moment. Then he let out a breath and lowered his own fists.
"I yield," he said.
The crowd erupted. Some of them cheered. Some of them booed. Money changed hands again, and the man with the white hair walked toward the cage door without looking back.
Elijah watched him go. Then he turned to face the cage door again.
The eighth fighter was already stepping through.
She was tall with a lean build that spoke of speed and flexibility. Her hair was blue, not dark blue like the night sky, but bright blue like the morning sky, cut short and spiky. Her mask was white, covering her nose and mouth, and her eyes were green, pale green like new leaves.
Her aura was a deep violet, the color of thunderclouds at dusk, and it pulsed around her in waves that made Elijah's Ki sense hum.
Beginner Knight Stage Peak.
She carried no weapons. Her hands were bare, her feet were bare, her stance was open and relaxed. She looked at Elijah with those pale green eyes, and she smiled.
"You look terrible," she said.
Elijah did not answer. He could not. The blood was still seeping from his side, and every word cost him strength he did not have.
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're holding your Gunshot?"
Elijah nodded.
"Bullet still inside?"
Another nod.
She sighed. "I should feel bad about this."
She raised her fists.
Her violet aura flared
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