The next evening.
7 p.m.
The Spirit Arena of the Imperial City was packed wall to wall, buzzing with excitement.
As the audience fiercely debated how many sword strikes Sword Wine would need to take down the "mongrel fire chicken,"—
Suddenly, a wave of exclamations erupted from the entrance.
All eyes were drawn in that direction.
A dignified and graceful pair—a mother and daughter—entered the arena, surrounded by powerful Spirit Masters exuding overwhelming pressure.
"Wait, that's... the Ye Clan of the Nine Heart Begonia?!"
"That woman—isn't she the clan head?! Even she showed up today!"
The exclamations had barely faded when fear took over.
Spectators near the entrance scrambled to their feet, pale-faced, pushing backward in panic as if they'd seen a ghost.
Only when they saw the next person arrive did they truly panic.
A gray-robed elder stepped through the doorway.
He was tall and gaunt, with white hair and beard, and a pair of pale green eyes that glowed with an eerie light.
The Spirit Arena was already a place steeped in blood and violence—
But the bone-chilling aura radiating from this old man completely eclipsed the ambient killing intent of the arena itself.
Some spectators began to shiver uncontrollably, cold sweat dripping down their faces.
"T-That's... that's... Poison Douluo Dugu Bo!"
"A Titled Douluo-level powerhouse?! Why would someone like him come to the Spirit Arena?!"
"Don't tell me even Dugu Bo is here... to see Sword Wine?!"
"No way. No way in hell!"
And yet—
Before the audience had recovered from this blow, several Spirit Masters dressed in Imperial Guard uniforms pushed through the crowd.
Behind them came Crown Prince Xue Qinghe, a serene smile playing at his lips.
The audience was reeling. One bigshot after another—Ye Clan, Dugu Bo, and now the Crown Prince?
The Spirit Arena was a place of brutality, of blood-soaked brawls.
Normally, such figures would never appear here publicly. Even if they did, they'd stay hidden.
But today? It was like they'd all coordinated—arriving one after the other in full view.
"Then it's settled! They're definitely not here just for Sword Wine!"
"I can understand the Ye Clan recruiting new talent, but His Highness and Poison Douluo...? No way they'd take interest in him, right?"
Their murmurs reached the ears of Xue Qinghe, who turned with a knowing glint in his eyes and bowed slightly toward Dugu Bo.
"Senior Dugu, your rare presence today—could it be... you've come to see Sword Wine as well?"
"Hm?"
Dugu Bo raised an eyebrow.
Old and shrewd as he was, how could he not see through Xue Qinghe's intentions?
After a brief pause, he nodded and replied along the line of questioning:
"I've heard there's a young swordsman here worth watching. His style... vaguely reminds me of Chen Xin in his youth. I came to see for myself."
"The Ye Clan's matriarch, perhaps the same?"
Lady Ye's eyes flickered as she responded with a calm nod:
"Senior Dugu is absolutely right."
"Our Ye Clan has indeed taken great interest in Sword Wine."
The audience sat in stunned silence.
These towering figures—just a few words between them—and the topic had already shifted squarely onto Sword Wine.
It felt... off.
As if this whole show was orchestrated to build momentum for him.
Once the Ye Clan, Dugu Bo, and Xue Qinghe entered their respective VIP box, the audience slowly began to process everything.
By 8 p.m., the temperature in the arena felt like it had climbed several degrees.
Every gaze was locked on the arena entrance, waiting with bated breath.
Near the front, Yu Feng's face was ashen, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Sword Wine, I'm begging you. Cripple that bastard for me!"
Osler sneered. "Didn't you say Sword Wine was a nobody?"
"And now you're hanging all your hopes on him?"
Yu Feng choked, opened his mouth, and finally slumped: "Yeah, yeah, I was blind, alright?!"
Elsewhere in the stands—
Zhao Wuji sat with arms crossed, rolling his eyes at the wild praise being thrown around.
"Sword Wine this, Sword Wine that. What's so great about this guy?"
"Shrek's Seven Monsters—any one of them could wipe the floor with him."
As a teacher who'd watched the Seven Monsters grow, Zhao Wuji's bias ran deep.
"Teacher…" A plain-clothed middle-aged man beside him said gravely.
"You shouldn't underestimate this man."
"He did, after all, defeat Yu Tianheng with a single sword strike."
Zhao Wuji waved him off, unconcerned.
"Relax, Qin Ming."
"Our little monsters from Shrek won't lose to anyone."
Qin Ming opened his mouth again, but—
There was no time to argue.
Because the two duelists had already taken the stage.
At 8 PM, the host dared not delay and immediately announced the start of the Spirit Duel.
A deafening roar erupted—loud enough to shake the very ceiling of the Spirit Arena.
Sword Wine appeared, clad in simple white robes, upright and sharp like a bamboo stalk.
Across from him, Ma Hongjun squinted, sizing him up with interest.
"So you're that Sword Wine?"
The roar of the crowd didn't faze Ma Hongjun.
Instead, a sly grin crept across his plump face.
"You've got quite the fanbase in Heaven Dou, huh?"
"Heh. I wonder what kind of faces they'll make when I beat you to the ground…"
Before Li Zhexian could respond—
Ma Hongjun suddenly lowered his voice:
"What's your relationship with Zhu Zhuqing?"
"Hmm?"
Li Zhexian's eyes flickered faintly.
That tiny shift in his gaze didn't go unnoticed.
Ma Hongjun cracked his knuckles, eyes narrowing.
"So you do know her."
"Then don't expect to walk off this stage unscathed."
BOOM!!
The instant his words dropped, the very air onstage twisted and warped.
A piercing phoenix cry burst from Ma Hongjun's body.
A torrent of purple Evil Fire engulfed him entirely, as if transforming the whole stage into a furnace.
The front rows of spectators were forced back by the sheer heat.
A bright yellow Spirit Ring rose from beneath his feet.
"First Spirit Ability — Phoenix Fire Wire!"
Though arrogant in his words, Ma Hongjun was extremely cautious at heart.
He started by probing with his first ability.
A wave of blazing purple fire surged forth like a furious waterfall, crashing down toward Li Zhexian.
Under the stunned eyes of the crowd—
The white-robed swordsman stood motionless.
As if paralyzed by the firestorm, he didn't budge.
He let the inferno swallow him whole.
BOOM—!
The stage exploded in purple Evil Fire.
A massive fireball blazed at its center.
Silence.
The entire arena went deathly quiet.
Even Ma Hongjun was briefly stunned—then broke into wild laughter.
"Hahahaha!"
"What a load of crap!"
"Couldn't even take my first Spirit Ability!"
He was certain.
Anyone engulfed by Evil Fire Phoenix—
Even a Spirit Ancestor at rank 40 would be flayed alive.
Sword Wine? He was dead.
Below the stage, Yu Feng and Osler were speechless.
Sword Wine, who had taken down Yu Tianheng in one swing—gone, just like that?
Zhao Wuji roared with laughter.
"See?! What did I tell you!"
"That so-called Sword Wine is no match for our fatso!"
But—
Qin Ming furrowed his brows.
Something didn't sit right.
...
Up in the VIP box—
"Yanyan, don't panic. Zhexian's fine."
Dugu Bo comforted his anxious granddaughter, but a flicker of intrigue flashed through his green-tinted eyes.
"This boy… he's a monster."
"How is he completely unharmed by that intense flame?"
His sharp senses caught it instantly.
"Wait a minute."
"Not only is he unhurt…"
"Zhexian... is absorbing the flame?"
...
Elsewhere—
Lady Ye couldn't see clearly, her strength not enough.
But even the Snake Lance and Porcupine Douluos were stunned.
"What the hell's going on with this kid?!"
"He doesn't have a fire-type Martial Soul—how can he absorb fire?!"
...
Back on stage—
The purple fireball didn't explode outward.
Instead, it shrank—
As if sucked into a massive invisible maw.
Everyone sensed it.
Something was wrong.
Just as the purple flames were about to vanish, a plain white figure stepped out, walking casually through the lingering flame waves.
He flicked a finger, brushing off a dancing spark from his clothes. Streaks of purple fire glowed between his black hairs, as if he were wearing a flowing headband of purple flames.
Under a thousand blazing gazes—
Li Zhexian slowly looked up.
Behind the faceless mask, two gazes, sharper than sword edges, pinned themselves on Ma Hongjun's chubby face, which was stiff with extreme shock.
The air solidified.
You could hear a pin drop.
Then, a calm voice broke the silence:
"Is that it?"
A brief, suffocating pause, like an invisible heavy hammer striking everyone's hearts.
"Is that it?"
The second voice, carrying a subtle, almost confirming doubt, was more grating than the sharpest taunt.
Then, the voice suddenly rose a notch, yet it exploded like thunder, carrying the ultimate disdain that crushed all pride, slamming down:
"Evil Fire—"
"Is that it?!"