Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

"Something as lowly as you has no right to interfere with anything I do..."

"I'd really like to see that," a somewhat languid voice suddenly came from the referee's box.

Zeta leaned back in his chair, a bunch of grapes in his hand, and said casually, "One against three, aren't you curious? How does he have the confidence to say something like that?"

"?!" Istova was clearly taken aback. "But...this...this probably doesn't suit our..."

"Can't you make an exception for me?" Zeta said with a smile.

"..."

Istova wanted to say something more, but Zeta was clearly addressing His Majesty the Emperor. In front of a guest of such stature, there was no room for him to speak further.

The emperor behind the mask remained seated, as majestic as a statue. After a moment of silence, he slowly, very slowly, raised his right hand above his head, making a thumbs-up gesture.

"oh-----!!!"

A cheer erupted from the crowd.

----

“He’s lucky.” Bartók gave him a cold laugh, striking the shield hanging on his left hand with his mace, making a clanging sound. “Perhaps this way of dying would be more interesting.”

"We can't be careless." Middlenight's expression, however, was not so happy.

This time, he drew his two-handed sword before the battle even began, constantly rotating the blade with his wrist to improve his feel for it.

"After it starts, you go up first and test his strength. Remember to fight him with all your might."

"Is it really necessary?" Bartók said nonchalantly. "There are three of us here, three against one. Are we not going to be able to beat him?"

“…” Middlenight looked at Zhang Renfeng opposite him. He had no weapon in his hand and was not wearing armor. In the arena, such an outfit was extremely bizarre.

If the opponent had weapons, he could at least determine their fighting style and choose the right tactics to counter them. But the current situation, and the opponent's calm expression—as if they were about to have lunch—made him increasingly uneasy.

I can't even imagine what will happen next.

"Do as I say!" Middlenight's tone grew increasingly irritated.

Bartók shivered and quickly nodded.

On the other side, a classic Roman spearman had already changed into his armor and weapons. The three formed a triangular structure.

……

With a deep horn blast and a series of tight drumbeats, the overtime match specially prepared for Zhang Renfeng officially began.

Bartók was the first to take action.

But to his surprise, Zhang Renfeng slightly bent over, lowered his center of gravity, and touched the ground with his toes, and actually charged towards him!

His running posture was quite frightening, with extreme swings of his arms and legs, kicking up dust, like a carnivorous beast hunting its prey. And he was incredibly fast; almost as soon as Bartók made a move, his strides had already covered ten meters, charging towards him!

"So fast!"

Bartók was startled; the battle cry he was about to utter was stuck in his throat, unable to escape.

Oh no... He's intimidating me!

Bartók gritted his teeth, strained his throat, and managed a weak roar before swinging his mace at Bartók's knee.

From his perspective, Zhang Renfeng's right leg slowly bent, then suddenly tensed and sprang out, kicking into his abdomen.

----

"Thump—!!!"

For the first time, the commotion in the arena drowned out the applause from the stands.

Zhang Renfeng remained calm and delivered a powerful kick, which landed on Bartók's breastplate, instantly denting a piece of the iron and breaking several ribs in the process.

The diminutive Bartók was kicked away like a football, crashing repeatedly onto the sand with a horrific thud. Each impact shattered fragments of his armor, leaving an almost straight plow mark.

"..."

His fingers trembled a few times, then quickly stopped moving.

Chapter 793: But this is a personal grudge

The audience was mostly stunned by what they saw. But the expressions of the two men actually fighting on the field were quite remarkable—they went through a transformation from shock and fear to despair. The gunman, in particular, had a blank stare and a pale face, having completely lost the courage to confront him head-on.

With the triangular formation broken, Zhang Renfeng slowly turned his head and focused his gaze on him.

"ah---!!"

A single glance was enough to startle him into a state of shock, and then, as if the muscles in his arm were acting on their own, they began to move.

He threw out the only weapon he could use to protect himself!

A spearman would never do this unless absolutely necessary.

They relied more on footwork, parrying, and thrusting to reliably kill enemies. In contrast, while throwing a spear looked impressive, it was a rather unreliable skill. The spear itself was heavy, and the enemy was moving, so it was easy for the spear to graze past them. If the first strike missed, the spearman would be unarmed for at least a moment, making him very vulnerable to being counter-killed.

but……

Rather than being kicked to death like a dog after getting close like Bartók, he preferred to try something else.

……

The spear pierced through and fell.

Zhang Renfeng showed no intention of dodging; on the contrary, a slightly sinister smile appeared on his lips.

"when!!"

His right hand transformed from a palm into a claw, clashing head-on with the flying spear, producing a metallic clang. The spear, carrying kinetic energy, was completely dissipated in the clash, spinning horizontally in the air. Zhang Renfeng, however, lightly touched the ground with his toes, leaping into the air, twisting his waist, and delivering a powerful, hard-hitting spinning kick while airborne!

"boom!!"

With a kick to the shaft of the spear, the spear, like a bolt of lightning, pierced through the air at several times the speed, simultaneously penetrating the spearman's chest and back, the tip of the spear firmly embedded in the sand.

----

“Red Center.” Knowing he had no way out, Midnight focused his attention more than ever before, twisting his wrists between the two swords, one facing forward and the other backward, and said in a deep voice, “I thought… you were dead.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” Zhang Renfeng sneered. “I’m a blank slate.”

"We've heard your story. You've fought your way through the South and are quite famous. They all say you're a monster with immense strength, invulnerability to weapons, and incredible speed. Human armies are like paper before you, crumbling at the first blow."

"In some towns, it even became a god-like being, an object of people's prayers."

The difference in social standing can actually be discerned at first glance.

Someone of Bartók's caliber couldn't possibly discern Zhang Renfeng's level; he simply charged straight at him.

On the contrary, it was someone like Middlenight, who had already made some achievements in the field of martial arts, who couldn't help but feel a chill when he saw the battlefield ruins left by "Red Center." Everyone else was just drinking too much in the tavern, chatting about how Red Center had killed hundreds or thousands of people... Only he knew that these exaggerated claims were far from the truth!

Whether it's Red Center or Whiteboard, it's just a difference in name.

There are unlikely to be another person who possesses such power.

“This matter has nothing to do with you from beginning to end.”

Midnight was drenched in sweat, but both his hands were occupied by the longsword. The opponent's imposing aura made him feel like a frog in a storm, afraid to make even the slightest unnecessary movement for fear of distracting him.

"The higher-ups ordered me to target those two swordsmen from Luxembourg; you don't need to get involved. The food rations for those four thousand refugees will still be guaranteed. We can resolve this issue through negotiation!"

……

"Negotiation?" Zhang Renfeng grinned, but his eyes were completely devoid of any smile, only icy coldness. "At this moment, you must be joking, right?"

“I know…I know…” Middlenight licked the sweat dripping down his cheek. “I just wanted to tell you that none of this is mine…”

"Personal grudge—!!"

As he uttered the last word, his voice suddenly rose. He moved swiftly, taking a step forward and thrusting fiercely towards Zhang Renfeng's throat!

Clearly, all the preceding actions, including feigning weakness and engaging in dialogue, were part of Middlenight's tactics. They were all geared towards a sudden increase in volume at the last moment, distracting the enemy and launching a surprise assassination.

This tactic is obviously a bit underhanded and not very honorable.

But in a traditional one-on-one duel, only the survivor usually has the chance to tell the story to the world. Right now, he's really driven to a corner, because he knows very well that if he fights according to the normal procedure, he will inevitably be eliminated, and only by launching a sneak attack can he see a glimmer of hope.

However, he soon realized that it was completely unnecessary.

Whether he shouted or not, Zhang Renfeng did not move an inch.

"when!!"

The entire arena fell silent in response to this sword strike.

Everyone witnessed him use his throat to block the blade that was thrusting towards him.

Midnight's stern expression finally crumbled at this moment. He could wield a two-handed longsword, and his strength was definitely not insignificant among swordsmen. This was the first time he felt his power sink into the sea, receiving no response whatsoever.

Just before he withdrew the sword, Zhang Renfeng suddenly opened his palm and grasped the middle of the longsword.

"What?!" Middlenight's pupils dilated. "How could you not have been cut..."

"when!"

There was a crisp sound.

Just like picking corn out of the ground, he used his extremely strong grip to break the sword blade and hilt off.

He gripped the sword in his hand, returning it to the state it had been in after being forged on the anvil. Under Middleton's monstrous gaze, Zhang Renfeng expressionlessly grasped the end, swung the entire length of the longsword, and slashed down at him relentlessly!

"when--!"

"when--!"

"when--!"

"when--!"

……

There were no footwork or swordsmanship techniques whatsoever.

It's just the simplest New Year's greeting sword technique: raise it, lower it, and repeat the process continuously.

Midnight was forced to use his remaining longsword for defense, and he attempted a master counterattack against Zhang Renfeng. However, the two were not on the same level at all; the force of their mere moment of impact was enough to make his hand go numb.

"Clang—!!"

Sparks flew everywhere.

Zhang Renfeng used the broken half of his sword to cleave the longsword in Midnight's hand, knocking him to the ground.

"It's no use, we can't win..."

Watching Zhang Renfeng discard the broken sword like trash and walk towards him step by step, Middleton finally lost all will to fight. He quickly turned around and made a gesture of surrender to the important figures in the stands.

----

"Clap!"

Just before his index finger was about to extend, Zhang Renfeng suddenly appeared in front of him and grabbed his right hand.

"Wait...wait!" Feeling his fingers being gripped, Middlenight had a very bad feeling. "What are you going to do?!"

“You just said this isn’t a personal grudge, right?” Zhang Renfeng looked down at him expressionlessly. “But it is.”

The next moment, Zhang Renfeng wrapped his five fingers in his palm and twisted them sharply!

"Click!"

All five fingers cracked simultaneously.

In an instant, Zhang Renfeng twisted his right wrist, which was holding the sword, with his bare hands!

Chapter 794: Finally, it came without any effort.

Before Midnight could scream, Zhang Renfeng kicked him in the neck with a sharp crack, like snapping a bunch of celery. His head twisted nearly ninety degrees to the right, and he collapsed to the ground, looking like he'd stepped out of a horror movie.

Zhang Renfeng shook the blood and dust off his hands, raised his head expressionlessly, and looked up at the seats higher up.

That gaze pierced me like a sword.

In an instant, all the cheers and applause in the audience vanished, leaving only a deathly silence.

Since becoming a blank slate, he has always emphasized keeping a low profile. He achieves his goals through roundabout means, other than violence. Although he often inevitably reverts to violence in the end, he always manages to make the matter go in circles and keep it as secret as possible.

The wood is beautiful in the forest, and the wind will destroy it.