.
Chapter 23: Iron vs. Speed
Location: The Battle Hall, Cage 3.
The iron gate slammed shut with a final, booming clang that vibrated through the floorboards.
Luo Feng stood on the blood-soaked sand. The smell here was overpowering—a mix of rust, sweat, and fear. Across from him, The Butcher was stretching his neck, the cracking sound audible even over the roar of the crowd.
The Butcher didn't look like a speed cultivator. He was massive, a mountain of muscle and scar tissue. In his hands, he held two jagged cleavers that looked heavy enough to split a boulder.
"Fresh meat," The Butcher grinned, his eyes gleaming with the cruelty of a man who had killed forty people in this pit. "Don't worry, Iron Mask. I'll make it quick. I'm hungry."
The referee, hovering safely above on a flying artifact, dropped his hand.
"FIGHT!"
BOOM.
Luo Feng moved first. He wanted to end this with overwhelming force.
He channeled his Qi into the Spirit Iron Saber. He stepped forward, his boots digging into the sand, and unleashed the move he had practiced a thousand times.
"Heavy Plow!"
The saber slashed down vertically, a curtain of steel aimed directly at the Butcher's skull. The force was immense; the air shrieked.
But the Butcher wasn't there.
For a man of his size, he moved with unnatural, fluid grace. He didn't block. He didn't retreat. He simply slid to the left, his body bending like a willow branch in the wind.
Whoosh.
Luo Feng's saber hit nothing but air. The momentum carried him forward, exposing his side.
"Too slow!" The Butcher laughed.
Slash.
A cleaver flashed. It drew a line of fire across Luo Feng's ribs.
Luo Feng gritted his teeth and spun, swinging horizontally.
Whoosh.
Missed again. The Butcher ducked under the blade, dancing around Luo Feng like a ghost.
"Is that it?" The Butcher taunted, hopping back. "You swing that sword like a hoe. You're not a fighter. You're a laborer."
Luo Feng panted, stepping back to reset. He checked his ribs. The black combat robe was torn, but the skin underneath was only scratched. His Iron Body—nourished by the Spirit Milk and Yams—had turned his skin as tough as cured leather.
"He's faster than me," Luo Feng analyzed, his eyes narrowing behind the iron mask. "And he has experience. He can read my muscles. He knows where I'm going to swing before I do."
Luo Feng tried again. He launched a flurry of strikes.
Slash. Thrust. Chop.
The Butcher dodged every single one. He weaved through the attacks with a mocking smile, occasionally flicking his cleavers out to leave shallow cuts on Luo Feng's arms and legs.
Slice. Slice. Slice.
The crowd was laughing.
"Look at him! The Iron Mask is a dancing bear!"
"Kill him, Butcher! Stop playing with your food!"
Luo Feng stopped. He stood in the center of the cage, chest heaving. His robe was tattered. He had a dozen shallow cuts. He hadn't landed a single hit.
'I am chasing the wind,' Luo Feng realized. 'I am trying to beat a speed cultivator at his own game. I am trying to use skill I don't have.'
He looked at his own body. He felt the density of his bones, heavy with calcium and Spirit Qi. He felt the thickness of his skin.
'I am not a Duelist. I am a Tank.'
A tank doesn't chase. A tank trades.
Luo Feng dropped his stance. He lowered his saber, leaving his chest wide open.
The Butcher's eyes lit up. He saw the opening. He saw the fatigue.
"Giving up?" The Butcher roared. "Then die!"
He lunged.
This time, the Butcher didn't dance. He committed. He channeled all his Qi into his right cleaver, aiming for the gap between Luo Feng's neck and shoulder—a kill shot.
Luo Feng saw the blade coming.
His instincts screamed at him to dodge.
His fear screamed at him to block.
He ignored both.
'Take the meat. Break the bone.'
Luo Feng didn't move his feet. He shifted his body just one inch—not to dodge, but to ensure the blade hit muscle instead of the neck.
THUNK.
The heavy cleaver buried itself deep into Luo Feng's left shoulder.
The pain was blinding. It felt like a hot iron rod had been driven into his body. Blood sprayed hot and red.
But the blade stopped.
It hit the collarbone—the bone that had been tempered by weeks of drinking Rank 1 Spirit Milk. The bone didn't shatter. It held. The cleaver was stuck.
The Butcher's eyes went wide. He tried to yank the weapon back, but the muscle and bone clamped around it like a vice.
"You..." The Butcher gasped.
"My turn," Luo Feng snarled.
He didn't use his saber. At this range, a long blade was useless.
He dropped his sword. His right hand shot out, grabbing the Butcher's wrist, locking them together.
The Butcher panicked. He stabbed with his second cleaver, aiming for Luo Feng's stomach.
Thud.
Luo Feng took that hit too. His abdominal muscles, tough as ironwood, stopped the blade from disemboweling him.
Luo Feng raised his right hand. He pointed his index finger directly at the Butcher's heart.
Distance: Zero.
"You are fast," Luo Feng whispered, blood dripping from his mask. "But you can't dodge light."
He channeled the violent, explosive Yang Qi from his Dantian.
"Spirit Finger: Solar Bullet."
BANG.
A beam of concentrated, blinding golden light erupted from his fingertip.
There was no sound of cutting flesh. There was only the sound of instant vaporization.
The beam punched a hole the size of a fist straight through the Butcher's chest, exiting out his back and scorching the iron bars of the cage behind him.
The Butcher froze. His eyes bulged. He looked down at the smoking hole where his heart used to be.
"Monster..." he gurgled.
Luo Feng shoved him. The massive body collapsed backward into the sand, kicking up a cloud of red dust.
[Qi Depletion: 90%.]
The arena went silent.
The laughter died. The jeering stopped.
Luo Feng stood there, swaying slightly. A cleaver was still sticking out of his shoulder. Another was stuck in his side. He looked like a pin-cushion.
He reached up with his right hand and gripped the handle of the cleaver in his shoulder.
Grrr...
With a guttural growl, he ripped it out.
Blood gushed, but the Iron-Skin Yam properties in his blood immediately began to clot the wound.
He looked up at the silent crowd.
"Winner..." the referee announced, his voice trembling slightly. "IRON MASK!"
The Winnings.
Luo Feng didn't stay to celebrate. He walked over to the corpse.
He checked the Butcher's waist. He found a heavy leather pouch.
Inside were 30 Spirit Stones.
"Cheap life," Luo Feng muttered.
He limped toward the exit gate. The crowd parted for him, staring with a mix of horror and respect. They didn't see a rookie anymore. They saw a madman who would let himself be stabbed just to land a kill.
Back at the registration desk, the one-eyed clerk was pale.
He pushed the wooden box of Spirit Surge Wine back toward Luo Feng.
"You..." The clerk swallowed hard. "You killed The Butcher. You actually killed him."
"My winnings," Luo Feng said hoarsely.
"Right. Right." The clerk didn't argue. He didn't demand a cut. He just wanted this blood-soaked demon out of his lobby.
Luo Feng took the wine box and the pouch of stones. He put them into his storage bag.
He pulled a flask of wine out, popped the cork with his teeth, and downed it in one gulp. The rush of Qi hit him, stabilizing his wounds and stopping the bleeding.
"Pleasure doing business," Luo Feng said.
He turned and walked out of the Battle Hall, heading toward the dark alleyways that led back to the surface.
The Shadow.
Luo Feng moved quickly, sticking to the shadows. His body was screaming in pain, but his mind was sharp. He needed to get back to the safety of the Farm. He needed to heal.
He didn't notice that he wasn't alone.
In the corner of the lobby, a man in a gray cloak had been watching. He had seen Luo Feng place the 10 bottles of High-Grade Spirit Wine on the counter. He had seen him collect the Butcher's heavy purse of 30 Spirit Stones.
The man had a scar running through his eyebrow and a tattoo of a viper on his neck.
"Forty Spirit Stones in value," the Viper licked his lips, his eyes tracking the limping, injured figure of Iron Mask. "And he's hurt. Badly."
A rookie with a fortune and a hole in his shoulder. It was a gift from the heavens.
The Viper signaled to two other men waiting near the door. They nodded silently, drawing short, poisoned daggers from their sleeves.
As Luo Feng disappeared into the winding alleyway, the three shadows detached themselves from the wall and followed him.
Luo Feng adjusted his mask, clutching his wounded shoulder, unaware that the real fight hadn't even started yet.
[End of Chapter 23]
1. Add to Library!📚
2. Power Stones! 💎