Chapter Eleven: The Fusion of Divine Powers

Tianling glanced at Ziyuan’s full, ample chest, then looked down at her own flat one, and unconsciously edged closer to Zhou Tian. Zhou Tian, feeling the gentle motion of the beauty by his side, smiled inwardly. Though Tianling was remarkably gifted, at heart she was still an innocent young girl, shy and inexperienced. To expect her to take any bold, intimate initiative now was unrealistic; such feelings needed time to blossom.

Nonetheless, to spare her any discomfort, Zhou Tian kept his gaze unwaveringly straight and addressed Ziyuan, “Are there any battles today featuring fighters with more than fifty victories?”

The Imperial Arena operated on a win-based system. Fighters with fewer than fifty victories were generally beneath the Sanzo Realm and not worth watching; only those with more than fifty wins merited attention.

Ziyuan, observing Zhou Tian’s demeanor, found it curious. She had great confidence in her allure. Though her face was merely above average, her figure was flawless—few could ignore her, let alone a young man in the prime of his youth like Zhou Tian. Yet she was a perceptive woman, well-trained in reading people. It was clear Zhou Tian was being considerate of the shy girl beside him, who evidently held significant weight in the heir to Prince Qin’s heart.

After a moment’s thought, Ziyuan revised her approach. She and the others were meticulously trained by the Imperial Arena from a young age. The cost was high, and only the most prestigious Tian-class VIP rooms were assigned such attendants. If one could capture the favor of a prominent guest, the Arena would lavish care upon her, sending her only when that patron returned—after all, no one wanted a woman they’d enjoyed to serve another. Though she hoped to win over this scion of Prince Qin, many attendants had lost their lives by offending the powerful through a lack of discretion. Until she understood the situation, it was wise not to tempt fate.

Ziyuan adopted a professional demeanor, lowering her gaze, pressing her knees together, and covering the mysterious allure she had previously revealed. Her voice, now devoid of seduction, was soft and respectful: “Your Highness, today there are two matches featuring fighters with eighty victories.”

Zhou Tian nodded in sudden realization. “So there are fights with more than eighty wins today—that explains the presence of royalty. How much longer until it begins?”

Winning streaks in the Imperial Arena were notoriously difficult. The first fifty victories could be managed, but after that, every battle was grueling. Opponents were all seasoned, ruthless veterans. Reaching eighty wins was exceedingly rare—such fighters possessed extraordinary skill and experience.

As for the King of a Hundred Battles, his last appearance was three years ago, sparking a frenzy among the capital’s major powers before the royal family finally recruited him. Currently, the highest tally in the Arena was ninety-five victories, and he was greatly favored by the capital’s nobility, with every match drawing a full house.

“About half an hour,” Ziyuan replied.

“That’s not too long to wait,” Zhou Tian said, nodding. “What level are the matches happening now?”

With a splendid match coming up but some time to pass, he thought to see if there was anything else worth watching in the meantime.

Ziyuan produced a black talisman disk from thin air, channeled her energy into it, and as the runes gleamed, a virtual screen was projected before them. After a quick glance, she reported, “There are currently three matches at the fifty-win level, and one at the sixty-win level.”

Zhou Tian settled himself and Tianling on a central red sofa, its surface covered with plush animal fur—crimson hairs as thick as a thumb, soft and inviting to the touch. He instructed Ziyuan, “Let’s watch the sixty-win match.”

“Yes, sir.” Ziyuan responded crisply, turning the disk in her hand. Immediately, the white wall before Zhou Tian shimmered with silver light, runes swirling as a vivid scene was projected onto it—the sixty-win match in progress.

This was the projection array, capable of reproducing every detail of the arena’s battles, adjusting with the fighters’ movements, and reserved for the VIP rooms.

“Watch closely,” Zhou Tian advised.

Tianling nodded, her eyes bright with anticipation.

At that moment, two humans were engaged in combat. The Imperial Arena frequently featured non-human combatants, so this was worth noting.

Their fight was far more thrilling than the brawls downstairs, which resembled street thuggery at best.

“Mountain-Shaking Fist!” cried the younger of the two. He was drenched in blood, evidently locked in a fierce struggle. Clenching both fists, earthen-yellow runes spiraled around them, and the faint silhouette of a sacred mountain loomed behind him—a display of his Sanzang Divine Art, known for its power, which had shattered many foes before.

Unfortunately, his current opponent was his equal. The middle-aged man across from him was bloodied as well, but clearly in better condition. Seeing the young man’s surging momentum, his eyes remained calm, lightning crackling about him, his gaze charged with electric fury.

“Thunder Judgment!”

With a deafening crash, thunder exploded out of nowhere. Above the empty arena, dark clouds formed, roiling with thick blue lightning. This was his Sanzang Divine Art—mastery over thunder.

“Thunder Dragon World-Shaking Fist!”

A dragon of lightning coiled up the man’s arm as he stamped his foot, vanishing into the storm above. The thunderclouds boiled, lightning bolts surging until the clouds shrank to reveal a massive dragon formed of pure thunder, lifelike and imposing, its whiskers flicking arcs of lightning, runes of thunder dancing across its scales.

“A combination of divine arts!” Tianling exclaimed in awe, her admiration undisguised. Combining one’s Sanzang divine arts required formidable will and talent. In their Hao Tian Sect, only a handful could achieve it—yet here, even a casual match displayed such mastery.

“Is it really that impressive?” Zhou Tian asked, amused by her astonishment. Since his original self had been unable to cultivate, he knew little of such matters and had no relevant memories.