The Warden spun in panic, lashing out with bone chains in every direction. But they struck only mist. Empty air.
And then—Snap!
A hand burst from the fog and gripped his wrist. Hard.
"What—?"
Jin Yu emerged slowly. Covered in blood. Bare-chested. Eyes calm like a pond, But that wide and savage grin was anything but calm.
CRACK!
He crushed the Warden’s wrist like dried wood.
"ARRRRRRRHGGG!"
The Warden screamed, staggering back. A bone spear formed at his side, but before he could summon it...
BOOM!
Jin Yu’s knee smashed into his gut, folding him over. The man coughed out black blood and half a shattered tooth.
Then came a flurry.
Smack! Crack! Crunch!
A punch to the jaw.
An elbow to the collarbone.
A roundhouse kick that twisted his spine unnaturally mid-air before he slammed into the arena wall.
The crowd didn’t even cheer. They gawked.
Jin Yu walked toward the Warden, slowly.
“Your turn to break.”
The Warden tried to rise, but a foot slammed down on his chest, pinning him in place.
He raised his hands defensively, shakily.
Too late.
Jin Yu grabbed both of the Warden’s arms and pulled.
Pop. Rip. Crack.
Ligaments tore. Bones snapped from the sockets. The Warden shrieked.
"ARRRRRRGHHH!"
"Mercy!" he cried.
Jin Yu’s voice was cold.
“You didn't show me mercy.”
He picked the man up by the throat, turned, and with inhuman strength, hurled him across the arena.
Thud—thud—THUD!
The body skidded, bounced once… then went limp.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Bone fragments rained down. The eerie skull-topped staff lay broken.
Ding!
Challenge Progress: 60%
Silence Falls... Then Madness
"ARRRRHHHHHHH!!!"
The arena exploded into Cheers. Shrieks. Laughter.
???: “Did you SEE that?!”
???: “He ripped the Warden apart!”
???: “This isn’t a fighter… it’s a monster!”
Even some of the dark cultivators turned pale, second-guessing their bets. The childlike man in one booth just clapped, eyes wide with amusement as if he wasn't just about to lose his entire puppeteer set. The eerie-eyed woman licked her lips slowly.
the hidden booths above stirred like waking beasts.
Clink. Clatter.
Gold ingots, spirit stones, contracts etched in blood, bets changed hands in murmurs and muffled laughter.
“I told you the boy would win,” hissed the thin man with predatory, birdlike eyes.
“The Warden was too predictable.”
“Hmph,” sneered the woman with black, eerie eyes. “But at what cost? He’s bleeding, staggering. The tenth will end him.”
The child-faced man swung his legs playfully.
“End him?” he giggled. “I think... he’s only just warming up.”
"Why are you happy?, don't think we will not collect your puppeteer set from you." the woman with black, eerie eye glared at him.
The childlike man just giggled, unbothered.
In a darker corner, the snakeskin-bodied man watched silently. His forked tongue flicked once.
“He used the mist technique…”
“And he didn’t disappear.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Interesting.”
Even the veiled figure who had sent out the sliver of ancient will sat still, thoughtful. Fingers tapped once… then stopped.
The heavy gate creaked open once more.
But this time, there was no snarl.
No battle cry.
No oppressive killing intent rushing in like a wave.
Instead, a quiet figure stepped into the arena. Calm, elegant, and out of place.
He moved with the grace of drifting snow, slow and deliberate, hands loosely tucked into the wide sleeves of his robe.
His robes were ivory white, a rare color in a place soaked with blood, and they fluttered gently as if they had a wind of their own.
A mask covered his face, plain, smooth, and devoid of any markings. It hid every expression, but something about the tilt of his head and the stillness of his steps made the crowd uneasy.
A hush fell across the spectators.
???: “What…?”
???: “Who the hell is that?”
???: “Is he... Spiral Gate's?”
???: “No way. He’s too clean.”
Even the frenzied dark cultivators paused. Some blinked in confusion. Others frowned, gripping their blades tighter, unsure if they were supposed to cheer or hiss.
This man, this calm, masked man, simply didn’t belong.
Above, in the veiled booths, the hidden figures stirred.
The man with serpentine skin narrowed his eyes.
The woman with the eerie, black eyes frowned slightly.
The child-like man tilted his head, suddenly intrigued.
Jin Yu stood in place, eyes locked onto the approaching figure.
He didn’t feel danger. Or threat. Or even the faintest trace of fighting spirit.
His brows creased.
For the first time since the challenge began, the system was silent.
The masked man stopped just a few paces from him.
Slowly, he raised his right hand.
In his palm lay a small object, a coin-shaped disc of dull silver, etched with strange, unknown runes that glimmered faintly.
He didn’t speak right away. He only stared at Jin Yu for a long moment, head tilted slightly as if examining him.
Then softly, his voice smooth, oddly gentle, like a whisper echoing from a distant dream:
“This… is the seer of our fate.”
He looked at the coin, then at Jin Yu again, and smiled. Though his mask hid it, the curve of his eyes made it unmistakable.
“Why do so much when it’s so simple?”
“...May I know your name, friend?”
Jin Yu’s brows furrowed. He said nothing. The question felt too casual, too real, too personal for a life-or-death arena match.
Even the crowd had gone eerily silent.
The masked man chuckled softly.
“No name? That’s fine.”
“Then... I shall define my own fate.”
He flicked his wrist gently.
The coin rose into the air, not spinning wildly as expected, but rising, as if suspended by invisible strings. It began to rotate on a single axis, slow at first, then faster, until it became a blur of silver light, suspended between them.
Still, there was no Qi fluctuation.
No killing intent.
Only that soundless hum as the coin spun faster and faster, caught in an invisible force.
It continued spinning and spinning, balanced impossibly on a single point as if time itself had paused. A minute passed. Then two. The crowd watched with bated breath. No one moved. No one spoke.
The masked man finally furrowed his brow and caught the coin mid-spin.
Something about him shifted.
Subtly, barely, but unmistakably, the air around him changed. The calm, detached elegance he carried just moments ago wavered, now touched with something… uncertain.
Still, he smiled faintly and, with another flick, sent the coin into the air again.
It spun once more.
Another minute.
Another two.
Still, it didn’t fall.
He caught it again, slower this time. This time, no smile followed.
A small bow came, graceful yet low, an attempt, perhaps, to mask the disbelief trembling in his eyes.
The audience, once mesmerized, started to stir.
???: “What silly drama is this?!”
???: “Is this a fight or theater?!”
???: “Has Spiral Gate gone senile?!”
Unease rippled across the arena.
Then the man looked up, no longer aloof or distant. His gaze sharpened.
And his eyes… changed.
From warm brown to an eerie, pure milky white.
It wasn't just a shift, it was a revelation, like something ancient and buried suddenly looking through them. His pupils constricted unnaturally, writhing like something was trying to burst free.
Jin Yu frowned. A faint prick of dread touched his spine, not from Qi, not from killing intent, but from the absence of everything.
It was a silence that screamed.
Still, there was no sign of attack.
Until—
Ding!
Divinity Blocked!
Then—
As if lit from within by invisible flames, the man's milky white eyes twitched, and imploded inward.
He grunted low, the sound muffled and tense.
A thin stream of blood wept from both eyes, trailing in twin rivers down his porcelain mask and soaking into the collar of his white robe. He didn’t flinch, only stared blankly at the stain.
Slowly, he raised his gaze to Jin Yu, again.
