Chapter 50: The Phantom Magus of the Great Spirit Arena II
"Phantom Magus! Phantom Magus!"
"One hundred wins in a row!"
"Beat him already! I bet my entire savings on this match!"
The Great Spirit Arena in Spirit City was packed to bursting, waves of cheers rolling through the stands like thunder.
All eyes were fixed on the lone figure standing atop the central battle platform—the Phantom Magus.
Three months ago, he had appeared out of nowhere. In that time, he had fought nearly a hundred battles—without a single defeat.
Tonight marked his one-hundredth consecutive match. A win would make him the first in Spirit Arena history to achieve a full hundred victories.
Ruo Ling stood silently in the center of the ring, calm as a statue.
He had already set records back at fifty consecutive wins—everything since then was just adding weight to his legend.
For three straight months, he had fought endlessly, his opponents all Soul Elders. For him, each one was easily crushed, yet regulations restricted fights to opponents of the same rank.
There had been little challenge—but plenty of gain.
His Split Mind Technique had reached the level of Three Apertures—Heart Command, and his control over both martial spirits and soul power had risen to new heights.
"Place your bets! Can the Phantom Magus reach one hundred victories tonight?"
Betting stalls buzzed across the stands.
"Still taking bets? The Magus has never lost. The bookie's going to be bankrupt."
"What? The odds for him winning are 1 to 100? Has this guy lost his mind?"
"How could the Phantom Magus lose? This has to be a mistake!"
"Are you sure you didn't flip the odds, pal? It's supposed to be 1 to 100 against him, right?"
"No mistake," the bookie replied with a wide grin. "Odds stand—Phantom Magus wins, one to a hundred."
"Is this a scam?" someone muttered.
"Impossible! The betting board's verified by the Arena!"
"I'll put ten gold soul coins on him!"
"Me too!"
"Five coins for me!"
All around, coins clattered as wagers poured in.
After all, who would bet against the undefeated Magus?
To them, these odds looked like free money. Only a few skeptics, sensing something odd, remained silent, watching in amusement.
On the stage, the announcer's voice carried over the excited crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to a battle that will be remembered in history!"
Cheers erupted. The woman in the elegant gown smiled brightly, her voice smooth and powerful.
"To my left stands the Soul Elder with a ninety-nine-match winning streak—the Phantom Magus!"
"Rank 37 Soul Elder. Martial Spirit—Crow Shadow Puppet!"
She turned toward Ruo Ling with admiration shining openly in her eyes.
He merely nodded slightly, saying nothing.
"And to my right—his challenger, handpicked at the Phantom Magus's own request! A Soul Ancestor joining us to break the streak: Mister Geng Hao!"
"Rank 43, Martial Spirit—Gale Demon Wolf!"
Her final words sent a shock through the crowd. For a few heartbeats, silence—and then chaos.
"He's fighting someone a whole rank higher?! A Soul Ancestor?"
"I knew it! No equal in his rank—now he's stepping up!"
"Damn! A Soul Elder facing a Soul Ancestor? Can he really win with one less ring?"
"No wonder that bookie's odds were one to a hundred! I just bet everything I had!"
The realization hit many too late, panic flashing across their faces—while the bookmaker smirked devilishly.
"I admit, you're strong, Phantom Magus," Geng Hao sneered across the ring. "But you've overreached. Challenging above your level was your biggest mistake!"
For three months, the Magus's name had dominated the arena. Countless fighters, including Geng Hao, had grown envious of his fame.
The moment he heard the undefeated Soul Elder had opened a match against a Soul Ancestor, he signed up immediately.
"Tonight, I'll end your streak!" he declared, his grin predatory as his spirit energy flared.
Two yellow rings and two purple rings spun to life around him—a standard and balanced configuration.
Ruo Ling glanced at him once and said nothing.
The black raven perched on his shoulder spread its wings, dissolving into a cloud of shadows before reshaping into a form identical to his own.
Even the Seven Treasure Clan's Bai Yu couldn't best him—how could this rogue Soul Ancestor pose a threat?
Still, Ruo Ling had no intention of killing him quickly. This was training, after all. He would draw it out—see all his opponent's tricks before finishing him.
Seeing Ruo Ling summon his martial spirit, Geng Hao's expression hardened.
He might have looked down on his opponent, but he knew better than to underestimate him.
The Magus's battles were infamous throughout the arena—strange, unpredictable, deadly. He fought with feathers, a scythe, and invisible control threads…and to this day, no one had seen his spirit rings or even touched his true body.
Every opponent so far had fallen to the puppet without landing a blow on the man himself.
The fight began.
A volley of razor-sharp black feathers burst toward Geng Hao.
Reacting instantly, he activated his first ability.
"First soul skill—Wind Blade!"
Pale blue blades of air slashed upward to meet the feathers midair, colliding and vanishing in bursts of light.
Ruo Ling's expression didn't change as he fired another wave.
Geng Hao scowled. His Wind Blades hadn't even overpowered those feathers—and he was a full rank higher!
Ruo Ling, of course, had intentionally weakened them. If he hadn't, the first strike alone could've ended this match.
"Second soul skill—Demon Wolf Possession!"
"Third soul skill—Demon Wolf Charge!"
Frustration flashed on Geng Hao's face as he unleashed two soul rings simultaneously.
His body warped—teeth sharpening, claws lengthening, gray fur coating him until he looked more beast than man.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished from sight, ripping across the ring like a violent gust, leaving cracks in the stone floor.
He wasn't targeting the puppet—he lunged straight for Ruo Ling's real body.
After observing the previous ninety-nine battles, he'd deduced the Crow Shadow Puppet felt no pain and could not truly be defeated. The only way to win was to strike the master directly.
Many of Ruo Ling's opponents had died trying—and it would be no different today.
"Die!" Geng Hao bellowed, claws slashing down toward Ruo Ling's face.
But Ruo Ling stood still.
To him, the man charging forward was no more than prey already trapped in a spider web.
The moment Geng Hao stepped into range, the countless dark threads Ruo Ling had laid unseen burst into motion, binding him in midair.
The werewolf's triumphant grin froze as he realized—he couldn't move.
Panic flared in his eyes as he poured his soul power outward to resist—
Only for a storm of feathers to explode before his face.
Ruo Ling had lowered the power output, so instead of tearing him apart, the barrage simply hurled him backward, crashing him across the arena floor.
When he landed, he was mostly unharmed—but utterly humiliated.
The crowd roared in disbelief.
(END CHAPTER)
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