91: King of the White Tower (Part 13)_1
“The competition will start soon, Mr. Fu, we should be heading off—Ah, your hand!”
By the evening of the next day, the female priestess who came to escort Fu Qian to the arena had her mouth covered in shock once more.
Fu Qian followed her gaze and understood why she was surprised.
In just one night, the water-blue imprint had spread from his palm to his entire upper arm.
The peculiar scent had become even stronger.
Not only that, but every place covered by the imprint felt as if countless tiny insects were nibbling away at the flesh.
Fortunately, the erosion was not deep, at least for now.
It wasn’t difficult to deal with this thing, it just required shedding the affected layer of skin.
For Fu Qian as he was now, it was nothing short of easy.
But he didn’t want to do that.
The reason was very simple—today was the day of the finals.
It would be his first attempt to take down Bai Jinting.
The thing would soon come in handy.
“You shouldn’t need to come and fetch me in person, should you?”
Fu Qian gave the female priestess a glance.
“Today is the finals.”
The female priestess forced a smile.
“If you win the championship, I’ll get a bonus too, so I must show some sincerity!”
“So that’s the case; I thought you had placed a bet on me.”
“There are indeed bets, but your odds are the lowest… I bet on everyone else, hoping to bring you some luck.”
“Not bad, learning about risk hedging at a young age, you have an unlimited future.”
…
As it turned out, Demigod Yibu truly detested Limb Attachment.
Almost the moment he entered the White Tower, Fu Qian could feel this intense aversion.
After revealing the mark on his right hand, the hostility surged like a torrent.
Yet Fu Qian made no attempt to hide it, adopting a nonchalant demeanor as he headed to the waiting room to rest.
After two days of fierce battles, only a handful of contestants remained; just one more opponent to take down, and he would enter the final round.
This time, no new underhanded tactics emerged, and Fu Qian’s number soon appeared on the screen overhead.
Standing on the once again rejuvenated field, Fu Qian couldn’t help but admire the advantages of wealth.
And the contestant opposite him in the ring surprised him for a brief second.
Dark ebony armor, a giant sword and shield, a helmet with two horns.
The opponent in the semi-final was actually that Black Knight from the same preparation room!
It had to be said, having made it this far, he must have some skill.
His towering figure was extraordinary, and that heavy armor he wore was not something an ordinary person could handle.
Fu Qian had seen one of his battles, and it was clear that his combat experience was extremely rich and his style steady and unarrogant.
He wielded a giant sword with ferocity, eventually flattening his opponent by ten centimeters.
If there was a weakness, it might be that his realm was too low.
Based on the intensity of the aura he displayed, at most he was at the Seventh Phase, making it hard to imagine how he could wield such a huge shield and sword in that manner.
That armor must be no ordinary item.
His courage was admirable too.
Over the past two days, his own notoriety had grown fierce; one would think ordinary opponents, seeing him, might have already despaired. For this knight to stand earnestly in the arena was no small achievement.
Once the referee announced the start, the Black Knight began with a silent salute with his sword, then positioned his dark, heavy shield in front of him.
This stance suggested he was wary of Fu Qian’s killing power, aiming to play defensively and counterattack.
It seemed reasonable at first glance, but one shouldn’t be so narrow-minded as to label an opponent a strength-based player just because they possess great power.
I’ve always been leaning toward a technique-oriented approach.
Confronted with a shell defense, Fu Qian charged forward, dodging an upward slash and then placed his palm on the shield.
That’s right, he pressed it down.
Fu Qian had no intention of blasting both the shield and man to smithereens, instead he gently pressed his hand against it.
…