Chapter 37: That’s It? That’s It? Is That All the Evil Fire Has Got? Li the Exiled Immortal’s Ultimate Taunt

The next day, 7:00 PM.

The Spirit Fighting Arena was deafeningly loud and packed to capacity. Just as the audience was embroiled in a heated debate over how many strikes it would take for Jian Jiu to finish off the "scruffy turkey," a sudden wave of exclamation erupted at the arena entrance. Countless gazes were drawn toward it.

A mother and daughter, both exuding an elegant and aloof temperament, stepped inside, surrounded by a group of formidable spirit masters.

"Is that... the Ye family of the Nine-Heart Begonia?!"
"That’s the head of the Ye family herself?! Even she has come today!"

The exclamations had yet to subside when the audience near the entrance scrambled to their feet in terror, fleeing as if they had seen a ghost. Those behind them were confused, but upon seeing the newcomer, they too froze.

An elderly man in grey robes walked in slowly. He was tall and gaunt with white hair and beard, his pale eyes flickering with a ghostly emerald light. The arena was a place of blood and violence, yet the chilling aura radiating from this old man suppressed the long-standing stench of blood and malice within the venue.

Some spectators’ teeth chattered, their bodies drenched in cold sweat.
"This... this is... the Poison Douluo, Dugu Bo!"
"A titled Douluo, why would he deign to visit the Spirit Fighting Arena?!"
"Don't tell me even Dugu Bo is here to watch Jian Jiu!"
"That’s impossible!"

Before the shock could settle, several spirit masters dressed in royal guard uniforms cleared a path. Behind them, Crown Prince Xue Qinghe stepped in, a gentle smile playing on his lips. The audience was left dizzy by the arrival of these heavyweights. In such a bloody place, these figures usually kept a low profile if they ever appeared at all. Yet today, it was as if they had all agreed to show up together.

"Now it’s certain! They aren't here for Jian Jiu!"
"It would make sense for the Ye family to be scouting talent, but the Crown Prince and the Poison Douluo... no matter how impressive Jian Jiu is, surely he isn't worth their attention?"

The clamor from the stands drifted faintly into Xue Qinghe’s ears. Her eyes flashed, and she turned to Dugu Bo, offering a bow. "Senior Dugu, your presence today is a rare treat. Could it be that you are here for Jian Jiu as well?"

"Hm?" Dugu Bo’s grizzled brows arched. Being an old fox, he immediately sensed Xue Qinghe’s intent. He gave her a look of slight surprise and followed her lead. "I heard a promising young swordsman appeared here, someone who bears a slight resemblance to Chen Xin in his youth. I came to take a look." He glanced at the Ye matriarch. "I presume the head of the Ye family is of the same mind?"

The Ye matriarch’s gaze shifted, and she nodded. "His Excellency the Poison Douluo is correct. As for Jian Jiu... my family does hold him in high regard."

The audience watched in a daze as these great figures, with just a few words, steered the conversation toward "Jian Jiu." The situation felt inexplicably strange, as if they were deliberately building momentum for him.

Only after the Ye family, Dugu Bo, and Crown Prince Xue Qinghe had all retreated into the VIP boxes did the audience begin to recover from their shock.

Time quietly ticked to eight o'clock. The temperature inside the arena seemed to climb along with it. Countless eyes burned with anticipation, fixed intently on the arena entrance.

Near the front, Yu Feng’s face was pale, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. "Jian Jiu, I beg you, destroy him for me!"

Ao Luo curled his lip. "You said Jian Jiu was nothing earlier. Now you’re pinning your hopes of revenge on him?"

Yu Feng felt a tightness in his chest. He opened his mouth, then slumped, saying dejectedly, "I was blind, alright?"

On the other side of the stands, Zhao Wuji crossed his arms, listening to the fanatical praise of Jian Jiu with a sneer. "What is a Jian Jiu? Among the Shrek Seven, which one of them isn't stronger than this so-called Jian Jiu?" As a teacher who had watched the Shrek Seven grow up, he had a blind, unshakable confidence in them.

"Teacher..." a plainly dressed middle-aged man beside him said gravely, "You should not underestimate this person. He did indeed defeat Yu Tianheng with a single strike."

Zhao Wuji waved his hand dismissively. "Qin Ming, don't worry. The little monsters who walk out of our Shrek Academy cannot lose."

Qin Ming opened his mouth to reply, but it was too late. Two figures had already appeared on the stage.

Eight o'clock. The host, not daring to delay, immediately announced the start of the match. A roar like a tidal wave erupted, threatening to blow the roof off the arena.

Jian Jiu wore a plain white shirt, his posture as straight as bamboo. Standing a dozen meters away, Ma Hongjun stroked his chin, sizing up the white-clad swordsman. "So you're this 'Jian Jiu' everyone’s talking about?"

Hearing the fierce, wave-like cheers, a smile of genuine interest appeared on his chubby face. "Your popularity in the Imperial Arena is truly something else. Tell me, when I beat you in a moment, what kind of expressions will these idiots cheering for you have?"

Without waiting for Li Zhexian to respond, he lowered his voice and asked, "What is your relationship with Zhu Zhuqing?"

"Hm?" Li Zhexian’s eyes flashed. Catching this subtle reaction, Ma Hongjun cracked his knuckles, his eyes narrowing. "So you do know her. In that case, don't expect to leave this arena in one piece."

*BOOM!*

The moment the words left his lips, the air on the stage distorted. A sharp phoenix cry burst from within Ma Hongjun. Surging purple evil fire instantly engulfed his entire body, turning the stage into a furnace. The audience in the front rows was forced back by the scorching heat wave.

A bright yellow spirit ring rose from beneath his feet.

"First Spirit Skill—Phoenix Fire Line!"

Though Ma Hongjun was arrogant, he was cautious enough to test his opponent with his first skill. A torrent of purple demonic fire, like a violent, surging waterfall, poured down toward Li Zhexian.

Under the disbelieving eyes of the entire audience, the swordsman in white seemed to have been stunned into stillness, standing his ground without moving an inch as he allowed the torrent of purple flame to swallow him whole.

*BOOM!*

The purple evil fire exploded, and a roaring sphere of purple flame appeared on the stage.

Silence. The entire arena fell into a deathly hush. Even Ma Hongjun was stunned for a moment, before he burst into a wild, arrogant laugh. "Hahahaha! What kind of trash is this Jian Jiu! He couldn't even take my first spirit skill!"

He was brimming with confidence. Being swallowed by the Phoenix Evil Fire would peel the skin off even a Level 40 Spirit Sect! This Jian Jiu was surely dead.

Below the stage, Yu Feng and Ao Luo were in disbelief. Was Jian Jiu, the man who had swept aside Yu Tianheng, really defeated this easily?

Zhao Wuji laughed triumphantly, his voice booming. "Look at that! What did I tell you! This so-called Jian Jiu is no match for Fatty at all!"

Qin Ming frowned, watching the ball of purple flame on the stage with suspicion.

In stark contrast to the heavy, silent atmosphere below, the VIP boxes were a different story.

"Yan Yan, don't be anxious, Zhexian is fine." Dugu Bo comforted his granddaughter, though a strange look flickered in his emerald eyes. *This boy is truly a monster. How can this scorching flame not hurt him at all?*

*Hm?* Dugu Bo’s perception was incredibly sharp. A second later, astonishment washed over his aged face. "Impossible! He’s not just uninjured... Zhexian is actually absorbing the energy of the flames?!"

In the other VIP boxes, the Ye matriarch’s strength was lower, and she couldn't see clearly through the haze. But the shock of the Pufferfish and Snake Spear Douluos was no less than Dugu Bo's. "What is wrong with this kid! He doesn't have a fire-attribute martial soul! Why can he absorb the flames?!"

On the stage, the purple fireball did not explode and dissipate as usual. Instead... it began to shrink in an eerie fashion, as if being devoured by an invisible, greedy maw.

Everyone noticed something was wrong. As the purple flames were about to vanish, a plain white figure stepped out, walking leisurely through the dissipating waves of fire. He flicked a few stray sparks off his lapels; even his pitch-black hair was dusted with the remnants of purple fire, as if he were wearing a headband made of flowing flame.

Under the fanatical gazes that felt almost tangible, Li Zhexian slowly raised his eyes. Behind the faceless mask, two gazes, sharper than the edge of a sword, nailed themselves onto Ma Hongjun’s chubby face, which was now frozen in absolute shock.

The air solidified. One could hear a pin drop.

A voice, calm and without a ripple, sounded:
"Is that it?"

A brief, suffocating pause followed, like an invisible hammer striking everyone’s heart.

"Is that it?"

The second time he said it, there was a faint, almost questioning tone of confirmation, yet it was more ear-piercing than the sharpest mockery. Then, the voice rose an octave—not like a shout, but like a thunderclap—carrying an extreme, crushing contempt that shattered all pride:

"Evil Fire—"
"Is that it?!"