Chapter 182#
The Price 05#
The blond man “Short-haired Cat” produced a hinge-like weapon in his hand, the end of which was connected to a strange double-sided axe. The axe head was wide, with two blades almost forming a circle, gleaming with a dim, cold light.
The petite woman “Cheetah” held a wolf-fang curved dagger in her right hand.
As the word “Begin” fell, both bodies tensed. Short-haired Cat slowly swung his chain-axe, while Cheetah gripped her dagger tightly.
Claros, holding the parasol, cast a casual glance over the two, clicked his tongue, and giggled, “Do you know the second half of ‘The stranger the outfit, the more twisted the person’?”
No one who heard him bothered to respond, simply assuming he was insulting himself.
In the arena, Cheetah’s gaze was locked onto the man across from her. Meanwhile, the chain-axe in Short-haired Cat’s hand had gradually built up momentum, spinning in a circle at his side, faster and faster, emitting a “whizzing” sound as it cut through the air.
Both were observing the other, neither making a move. The atmosphere grew colder and tenser.
The dealer suddenly spoke: “Those who waste time or do not exert full effort will bear the consequences.”
As the words fell, Cheetah lunged forward like an arrow from a string!
But Short-haired Cat’s chain-axe was faster than she was; in the blink of an eye, the gleaming blade hurtled toward her face.
She sharply changed direction, twisting her body to the side, barely dodging the blade by a hair’s breadth. Pushing off the ground, she leaped high into the air, then spun mid-flight, raising her dagger high to stab at the bulging veins on Short-haired Cat’s neck.
At that moment, the chain-axe had not yet been retrieved, and the force of her downward strike, amplified by her plunging motion, was exceptionally fierce.
The killing intent was palpable. In that instant, Short-haired Cat suddenly kicked upward! A dull thud followed as Cheetah’s body flew backward, landing heavily on the ground.
The chain-axe’s attack came simultaneously. As the blade descended, Cheetah arched her back abruptly, rolling left to evade—the gleaming axe blade slammed down just to the right of her head, shearing off half an ear and a large clump of hair.
Blood gushed from the side of her face. Her breathing came in rapid, ragged gasps. Her arm trembled as it moved at her side, and the wound on her left chest split open again, oozing a large patch of blood.
Cheetah gritted her teeth, her eyes bloodshot. In the pool of blood, she took on the unique ferocity of a beast in its death throes.
Short-haired Cat swung the axe again.
The moment she saw his movement, Cheetah suddenly raised her leg, using her waist to power herself up like a fish leaping, rising to her feet.
But she wasn’t dodging the flying axe—she charged straight toward the blade. Just as the axe was about to strike her chest, Cheetah shot out her hand, grabbed the steel chain connecting the axe, and yanked back with all her might.
This effort used every ounce of her dying strength. Short-haired Cat was pulled forward, but a savage grin appeared in his eyes.
The next moment, everyone saw Cheetah’s hands, gripping the chain, dripping with blood.
—It turned out the chain had a hidden secret: it was lined with extremely sharp barbs. Only its owner knew which parts could be touched and which couldn’t. Anyone else who grabbed it would have their skin torn open.
A wound on the chest wasn’t fatal; a wound on the hand holding the weapon could mean death.
Meeting Short-haired Cat’s gaze, Cheetah’s teeth chattered.
Short-haired Cat pulled the chain toward himself. He was powerfully built, and Cheetah stumbled forward.
She panted heavily, then suddenly let go. But in the moment she released it, she thrust her hands forward again, enduring the searing pain to grip the chain like climbing a rock wall, taking several steps forward.
When she stopped, she held most of the chain’s length. With the chain in her grasp, Short-haired Cat’s strength couldn’t reach the axe at the end, but she could—
With a hoarse cry, Cheetah raised the chain-axe high. The bloodstained chain scattered droplets of blood in the air.
The double-sided axe, driven by the chain, traced a perfect arc through the air, whistling as it swept over Short-haired Cat’s head and slammed into his back from behind!
The moment the blade struck his back, Short-haired Cat heard the wind and reacted instantly, throwing himself forward to minimize the damage. Meanwhile, his free hand grabbed Cheetah’s shoulder, and both of them crashed heavily to the ground.
A sound of a weapon sinking into flesh. The axe had embedded itself in his back. Short-haired Cat grunted, but his expression remained largely unchanged.
—Cheetah’s hands were too badly injured. She had lost her aim and strength. The axe had indeed hit him, but at the wrong angle. It cut through skin and flesh, striking hard bone at an angle. The wound was deep, but it hadn’t hit a vital spot.
Now, he had her completely pinned. Short-haired Cat grabbed Cheetah by the throat with one hand and slammed her head viciously against the ground.
The back of her head hit the floor. Two dull thuds echoed through the arena. Cheetah’s face twisted in fury as she simultaneously kicked up with her right leg, striking his hip and pelvis, using the recoil to break free of Short-haired Cat’s grip and slide backward.
A heavy metallic clang. Short-haired Cat’s gaze briefly shifted from his opponent.
His chain-axe had fallen from his back to the ground.
Instantly, the chain-axe was back in his control.
Short-haired Cat panted heavily, glancing behind him. With one hand holding Cheetah down, his other hand groped on the ground, grabbed the axe, and swung it toward her—
But at the same time, his neck.
His eyes went wide, as if seeing something he couldn’t believe.
Everything happened too fast. There was only something.
Before, when Cheetah was tugging the chain in a tug-of-war with Short-haired Cat, she had needed both hands free, so she had sheathed her dagger back into the leather scabbard at her waist.
And when Short-haired Cat looked back to search for the axe’s location, his attention was divided. He didn’t see Cheetah slowly moving her hand toward the scabbard.
The struggle over the chain-axe had been so bloody and eye-catching that everyone had forgotten she still had a lethal weapon at her waist.
The neck was stabbed, but the momentum of Short-haired Cat’s double-sided axe hadn’t dissipated. It still followed its original trajectory downward.
Cheetah turned her head to avoid it. This movement seemed to drain whatever strength she had left. After barely dodging the axe, she collapsed limply to the ground, her eyes wide open as if dead, only her breathing proving she was still alive.
At the same time, Short-haired Cat’s heavy body slowly fell to the ground. Blood gushed from his neck. His throat produced heavy gasps and choking coughs, his trachea punctured, the sound like a broken bellows.
The two fallen bodies were extremely close, both motionless.
No one yet knew the criteria for determining victory or defeat.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
At the thirteenth second, the little finger of Short-haired Cat’s right hand twitched. Then his fingers curled, regrasping his chain.
Seeing this, Cheetah let out a hoarse, piercing scream from her throat. She lunged forward, then collapsed trembling in front of Short-haired Cat, stabbing her dagger into his heart again and again.
Her movements were frantic and desperate.
By now, the long wound on her chest was still dripping blood.
And the bloodstains beneath Short-haired Cat had already spread into a large pool.
Finally, the dealer’s voice rang out: “White chess piece down for thirty seconds. Black chess piece wins. Congratulations.”
“Both sides, stop.”
As the words fell, Cheetah’s dagger clattered to the ground.
The arena lights went out. Only the ten bettors still had lights shining above their heads, like ten pale lanterns.
In the darkness, the familiar system broadcast sounded: “Goodnight, Short-haired Cat.”
A thirty-second downfall decided the winner. In a fight, someone who couldn’t get up after thirty seconds was almost no different from being dead—and Short-haired Cat was indeed dead.
The fight was finally over. It had been brief, but full of twists and turns. Not a single person in the room spoke.
If they were truly spectators, after such an exciting match, protocol would call for cheers. But they were not just spectators; they were gamblers, and also participants waiting for their turn.
In the dead silence, someone suddenly let out a cry of surprise.
What they saw was—six of the ten bettors were slowly turning a deathly gray, like eerie statues.
In front of their tables, the white demons had their mouths closed. They had placed their chips on the white side, Short-haired Cat. Now that Short-haired Cat had lost, their bets failed.
The six who had turned gray moved stiffly, looking at their own bodies with expressions of utmost terror.
But the moment those expressions appeared on their faces, their bodies dissolved into gray mist and vanished.
The arena saw blades clash, which would certainly produce deaths that the Misty Capital delighted in.
But if it were only that, how could it be called “pay the price for your choice”?
The six vanished simultaneously. The Misty Capital did not bother to announce the names of the dead one by one.
In the gloom, there was only a brief, sigh-like broadcast.
“Goodnight, everyone.”
In the central VIP seats, both Yu Feichen and Jielü, who had placed correct bets, were unharmed. The Monarch in the center was also safe. In particular, Jielü, who had been selected due to his terrible luck, had made the right choice and came out fine.
Perhaps the reason Jielü, the Divine Arbiter, had survived this long was that he overcame misfortune with his strength.
The round of betting ended. The demon statues spat the chips back out to them for future use.
Claros, who had been watching, spoke in a tone both eerie and gloating, giggling as he finished his earlier sentence: “The second line is… the weirder the weapon, the quicker the death.”
The dealer’s voice rang out again: “Example concluded.”
“Supplementary rule introduction: Combat starts from the lowest rank. The loser withdraws; the winner does not retreat until one side has no chess pieces left.”
“All present must place bets each round.”
“A single chess piece winning ten consecutive rounds can receive a reward.”
“If one side loses ten consecutive rounds, it is judged as a major disadvantage. At that point, K and Q can, upon reaching an agreement, send one chess piece into the arena. This jump is not constrained by the numbered order.”
“Emphasis: No offensive or defensive special items may be used. Violators will bear the consequences.”
“Rule introduction ends here…”
In the silent arena, a clear, crisp tapping sound suddenly rang out. After the sound, the dealer’s words were cut off.
The sound seemed to come from everywhere. None of the attendees could identify its source until they saw the dealer look up toward the person known as “the Monarch” in the center. Then, following his gaze to that person’s action, they realized it was the Monarch who had just lightly tapped the demon’s head with a gold chip.
An Fei’s voice was calm, echoing lightly and ethereally through the vaulted ceiling: “What happens if I bet incorrectly?”
The dealer, upon being asked, first bowed, then said, “The Monarch must also pay the price for his choice. If wrong, all chess pieces on that side will die.”
At these words, the entire room was stunned.
“Why?!” A man across the room pointed at An Fei, shouting loudly, “What right does he have—”
Before he could finish, the dealer’s gaze snapped toward him!
“Who,” the dealer said, each word flat and icy with terrifying intensity, “gave you the right—to be disrespectful to him?”
The man suddenly felt a chill and involuntarily looked down at his own body.
He saw his fingers, his wrists, and all his exposed skin had turned an ominous deathly gray.
As if disbelieving his eyes, he blinked.
This time, he only saw a cloud of gray mist scattering away.