Chapter 240

Chapter 240: Bloody Killing Sword

As a high-tier gladiator who had battled in the arena for years and stood one step from becoming a layer master, Batolun excelled not just in combat but also in "performance."

A single provocative gesture was enough to ignite the crowd’s frenzy—audiences came for blood, not chatter. Raw hostility always thrilled them, and those who stirred it earned even greater adoration.

Midi sneered as the deafening roar from the stands washed over him. While he didn’t care about the crowd’s fleeting favor, this battle was his chance to rise. How could he let his opponent steal the spotlight?

Hostility might fuel excitement, but nothing matched true *killing intent*.

Drawing his longsword with a sound like shattering ice, Midi unleashed his dual blades, "Sun" and "Moon." Forged from dawn’s first light and night’s earliest moonlight, their edges blazed with a razor-sharp glow.

A bone-chilling aura erupted from the blades, flooding the arena in an instant.

Batolun—the self-proclaimed "Bloody Killing Sword"—froze. How could a mere level 51 human Demon Swordman radiate such overwhelming killing intent? What horrors had this man endured?

But Batolun, an Awakened One obsessed with personal strength and one-on-one duels, could never grasp the scale of wars involving thousands or the sacrifices behind a legendary general’s glory.

Whether he accepted it or not, Midi’s killing intent was real. It didn’t excite the crowd—it terrified them. Through their shivers, they realized one truth: Midi wasn’t holding back anymore.

A crimson flash shattered the oppressive aura.

*Demon Slash!*

Batolun, refusing to be suppressed, struck first. A basic Demon Slash became lethal in his hands. Transforming into a Crimson Shadow, he closed the gap unnaturally fast. His massive greatsword—light as a feather—lunged forward in a barrage of thrusts!

Midi sidestepped the first strike, but Batolun didn’t falter. Blood-red light surged around him as he unleashed dozens more thrusts. Sword energy churned the arena’s center into a storm of debris, swallowing Midi in blinding sword light.

This was the "Bloody Killing Sword’s" style.

Most Berserkers used greatswords for slashes or brutal sweeps. Some even wielded them as shields. Batolun, however, fought like a spearman—thrusting, not hacking.

Stabbing with a greatsword sacrificed raw power—even his Demon Slash lost a third of its force—but gained unique advantages. A one-armed thrust extended his reach, keeping melee fighters at bay. The minimal motion also offset the weapon’s usual sluggishness, leaving fewer openings. And if an enemy dodged sideways? A twist of the wrist turned a thrust into a devastating sweep.

Simple yet ingenious. Few had ever faced this tactic—not even Midi, the reincarnator. Now, the ten-win rising star found himself pinned under Batolun’s relentless assault, forced into pure defense.

The crowd roared as the battle escalated, but cheers soon twisted into jeers—all aimed at the seemingly helpless Midi.

Sky Arena was like this—when you were strong, you earned cheers, but when you were weak, those cheers turned to jeers.

There was no support in defeat, no sympathy. The Sky Arena was direct and ruthless, mirroring the world itself where the strong devoured the weak.

"Come, lowly human brat! I’ll pierce you full of holes and hang your corpse from the arena’s arch!" Batolun had fallen into full Frenzy. His eyes burned crimson, his once-handsome face contorted grotesquely, lips twisted into a cruel grin.

He snarled taunts while thrusting his greatsword relentlessly at Midi from every angle, denying his foe even a breath’s respite.

Backed by his level 56 power, Batolun’s body brimmed with pure magic, fueling this storm-like assault until his opponent’s defenses shattered.

Yet in the next heartbeat, a metallic clang rang out—the barrage stopped abruptly.

Not by Batolun’s will, but by Midi’s interception.

Sparks flew as magic rippled through the air. Midi’s twin swords, "Sun" and "Moon," crossed like stag horns, their edges biting into Batolun’s blade with flawless precision, halting it completely.

"Enough theatrics. My turn now. Don’t say I gave you no chances." Midi’s calm voice carried across the silent arena.

A glint of cold killing intent flashed in his pitch-black eyes.

"Bluffing fool!" Batolun yanked his sword free and charged again with a roar.

But this time, his fluid strikes turned clumsy against Midi’s twin blades.

Midi made no move to dodge. Using "Demon Shadow Flash" to penetrate Batolun’s guard would risk exposing his dual mastery of sword soul and Ghost Cry skills—a clue that might reveal his identity as a rare human Demon Swordman. Even without that, he refused to bare his trump cards before thousands.

No. Against this foe, sword soul skills sufficed.

After analyzing Batolun’s thrusts, Midi chose the simplest path—counterattack.

If Batolun stabbed at flesh, Midi struck steel.

Targeting a weapon demanded far greater precision than attacking a person. But for Midi, a reincarnator seasoned through lifetimes of war, predicting a blade’s trajectory was child’s play—especially against straightforward thrusts.

Few professions matched a sword soul’s speed and accuracy. Berserkers relied on brute force, not finesse.

In moments, Midi’s dancing blades deflected a dozen thrusts. Each parry with "Sun" came paired with "Moon" hammering the greatsword’s vulnerable midsection.

The once-gleaming blade now bore jagged scars, its bloodlight dimmed. Batolun’s heart twisted at the damage, yet Midi’s relentless pressure left him no opening to retreat.

Though shorter in reach, Midi’s "destroy the weapon" strategy left no room for counterplay. Soon, the arena blazed with the twin swords’ radiance, overwhelming the Berserker’s crimson aura. Sparks flew as steel clashed, the deafening cacophony electrifying the crowd.

This was true blade battle—a contest of pure skill. The audience, breathless moments before, erupted in frenzy.

"Blade! Blade! Blade!"

"Blade reigns supreme!"

Those who’d jeered now roared louder than ever. The Sky Arena worshipped strength, and Midi had proven his.

Batolun knew desperation. With a thunderous roar, he mustered every ounce of power.

Bloodlight erupted from his body—the Berserker skill, Blood Frenzy.