Chapter 38: The Imperial Journey, Section 6

“Boom!!”
Two figures spun downward from the sky at speeds beyond human vision, crashing violently onto the hard rocky ground. The immense force of the impact made the surrounding ground tremble, as if a small earthquake had struck. Countless fragments of rock and dust erupted into the air once again, rendering the scene completely invisible for a moment.

Yet through the arena’s special video replay, the spectators could clearly see the sudden, deadly transformation that had taken place. That gaunt figure and the terrifying throwing technique he used sent chills down every spectator’s spine.

What a joke—those figures were over five meters tall! Though not extremely tall, combined with the inertia of being upside down and the force of rapid rotation, the damage inflicted would likely be enough to cause nightmares. Even an ice bear would have its bones broken under such a throw. How could that thin Poleman possess such terrifying skills?

In fact, such throwing techniques had never appeared in the history of the Moor Empire. What they valued was nothing but brutal slashing and killing—where had they ever seen such bizarre tactics? Just using his hands to break bones and tear flesh instantly terrified all the spectators.

Silence, absolute silence. The entire arena was so quiet that even the sound of a needle falling could be heard. Amidst the gentle cold wind, the increasingly rapid breathing of the spectators became the only sound. The atmosphere grew more and more oppressive. Just as Grand Duke Taro felt suffocated, thunderous cheers finally erupted.

Yes, it was an eruption! Unlike the previous cheers, these could only be described as explosive. Everywhere, nearly every spectator in sight was ecstatic and thrilled! They waved everything they could, shouting out their joy, then threw those items into the air. They howled wildly, trembling at the sight of such an amazing fight. Whether they knew each other or not, they didn’t mind sharing their happiness with those around them. Even an old man like Grand Duke Taro was suddenly hugged by several spectators, catching him off guard.

At the front of the arena was a very large stone slab. At that moment, it too was in turmoil. Grand Duke Taro saw a very prominent number flashing rapidly on it. With each pulse, the number more than doubled!!

That was the audience’s approval of the duel. It was the highest honor that could only be earned through an outstanding duel. The higher this number, the more exciting the duel was and the more thrilled the audience. In the lower right corner, there was another number representing the total number of spectators. Generally, as long as the approval reached half of the total audience, the duel could earn a shining gold star.

But now, that wildly rising number was far from half. In less than thirty seconds, the percentage had already reached an astonishing three-quarters—and it was still increasing. That bright red number was like a cheerful sprite, unwilling to stop for even a moment.

Oh, my Goddess Tia. Could this not be a gold star? The Grand Duke of Tarot’s heart pounded as he stared at the number, speechless. At this rate, it might not be impossible to reach 100%. If so, what he would receive wouldn’t just be a gold star—it would be a golden flower!!

Not only him, but Miss Veri, the blond young man as a guest, and the assassin girl were all equally stunned. They silently watched the rising number, completely unable to speak.

I remember that throughout the empire’s long history, there had been no more than a handful of duels in which someone had directly earned the golden flower honor. And in those ten duels, the participants had undoubtedly received a title that would bring them glory for life—the Supreme Duelist. Could Beck and Siget be that lucky?

No. It’s impossible. Such honors are reserved for the strongest and bravest warriors. Although Siget and Beck were quite good, they clearly lacked the foundation those warriors had among the audience. So even if they tried their best, it was absolutely impossible for them to receive such a great honor.

That was the thought that arose unbidden in everyone’s minds. And in fact, that thought almost became reality.

The number slowed down gradually. Amidst the noise around, it finally settled at 76,835. The accompanying display showed the final percentage to be 99.99%.

Was it still just a little short? The Grand Duke of Tarot shook his head regretfully and sighed. But in an instant, a smile appeared on his wrinkled face. Because he saw that green figure approaching him, with another burly bald man on his shoulders. The bald man tightly held a huge two-handed axe in his hands, dragging it behind the green figure and leaving sparks on the hard rocky ground.

Beck is back…

Although his expression was tired and his body was covered in wounds resembling tiny baby mouths, he was still alive—and quite healthy. His opponent, the owner of the empire’s most powerful private fleet, the renowned Siget, seemed less optimistic. His bald head hung limply behind Beck, swaying with his movements, soft and as if unconscious.

“Neck fracture. Deep coma. But he’s still breathing. He probably won’t die that easily. I tore the muscles in his left arm when we struggled—that might cause some trouble. Overall, if we act quickly, he could still appear before us, lively as ever.” Saying this expressionlessly, the dark-haired man threw Siget’s burly body to the ground. A groan was heard as he fell.

But unlike his expressionless demeanor, the Grand Duke of Tarot and the others were completely shocked. Especially when they saw Siget, usually strong like an ice bear, now limp at their feet, they could hardly believe their eyes.

“You… you broke the bald guy’s left arm? Do you know how strong his left arm is!?” the blond youth asked in astonishment.

“I don’t know. But I know that if I hadn’t broken it, I couldn’t guarantee he’d stay on the ground. Struggling in that state, I see no other reason than to seek his own death. If he succeeded in struggling, then sadly, all I’d be carrying now would be a corpse. Because you can’t guarantee someone with a shattered skull will stay alive.” Shrugging, the dark-haired man replied indifferently before walking away without looking back.

“Well, I’m tired. I hope I can rest for a while. I assume you won’t mind, right? Esteemed Grand Duke of Tarot, Beck will come to see you again tonight. And I’ve brought you a small gift as well.”

“Alright, young man. You’ve given us a great surprise today. That’s the best gift possible. Rest well. I’ll prepare a home feast to welcome you tonight.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency.” The dark-haired man smiled and waved, then disappeared into the dark corridors of the arena.

Left behind were several speechless nobles and the still-enthusiastic crowd roaring wildly.

On the huge stone screen in the distance, the number 99.99% glowed blood-red.

“Maybe we went too far? We should have stopped Siget’s challenge,” Veri said suddenly after a long silence, still staring at the bald man.

“That’s not necessarily true. There’s probably no one other than that person who can stop Siget. You know that bald man’s temper, Miss Veri. I think it’s better to teach him a lesson than to have him pretend to agree while secretly resenting it, so he knows he’s not the only warrior in this universe.” The assassin girl replied nonchalantly. She walked up to the bald man, bent down, placed her delicate hand on his soft body, and with a slight effort, lifted him up—despite his size being several times hers. The absurd sight left the servants around, who wanted to help, stunned.

“Well… Miss Tena. Let the servants do such rough work, wouldn’t you say?” Duke Tarot frowned and tried to dissuade her.

“There’s no need. Siget is very proud. If he wakes up and finds out that he was humiliated and laughed at by a bunch of servants, he’ll surely go mad. Let me handle it myself. This big guy needs a good lesson too. He gets so angry every time—I wonder how many heads he has. It’s better than him having his head broken in a real battle.” The assassin girl laughed carelessly, rejecting Duke Tarot’s kindness. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she looked up and asked, “By the way, esteemed King of Assassins, may I attend your dinner party tonight? You know, I’ve always been curious about veterans like you. Your legendary experiences have been stories I’ve wanted to hear since I was young.”

“Of course,” Duke Tarot laughed heartily. “Not only you—Farost from over there should come too. It’s an honor for my ruined castle to have you all here. Now, everyone go rest. I’ll have the servants prepare everything. Tonight, we’ll drink to our hearts’ content.”

“Thank you, King of Assassins. I’m grateful for your invitation,” the blond young man said politely, bowing before following the assassin girl outside. Only Duke Tarot and Miss Veri remained behind, standing out among the noisy crowd.

“Those kids are really interesting. They refuse to give up even in the face of such setbacks?” Watching their retreating figures, Duke Tarot suddenly laughed, his wrinkled face showing a fox-like expression.

“They are all elites of the younger generation; of course, they won’t give up easily. Father, it’s time for you to reappear before everyone again.” Miss Veli replied in a low voice, her gaze fixed on the row of red buttons beside her, before suddenly letting out a soft exclamation.
“Oh, right—seems we forgot something.” With that, Miss Veli gently pressed the row of buttons.
On the huge stone slab in the distance, the massive red numbers suddenly jumped again. Though by just a little, it was no longer 99.99%, but rather a huge, astonishing figure…
100%!!