Chapter 4486 — Wei Zhao Wounded

Yet in the very next instant, Wei Zhao's movement made Cheng Haonan's eyelid twitch sharply: a familiar blazing firelight shot skyward, and Wei Zhao had actually unleashed the Mad Fire Thousand Explosions Fist—the very move that had just finished off Wu Baoliang!

Though it was a new technique he had only recently mastered, in terms of raw power the Mad Fire Thousand Explosions Fist clearly surpassed the Mad Fire Eight Trigrams Palm, his former forte; it was enough to replace it as his hidden ace. Now that they had reached this life-or-death juncture, it was precisely the moment to reveal his strongest card.

The Mad Fire Thousand Explosions Fist opened with tremendous force, and at this moment Cheng Haonan was far too close to Wei Zhao—he was swallowed up almost instantly, with not the slightest chance to react.

Watching the two figures blur into the skyward flames, the crowd below could not help but erupt in an uproar. Wei Zhao's earlier one-move obliteration of Wu Baoliang had left far too deep an impression on them; in an instant their views shifted wholesale. What use had Cheng Haonan's earlier advantage been?

The man held a powerful trump card sufficient to turn the whole match around; no matter how great the earlier advantage, it was all so much drifting cloud...

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A ceaseless chain of thunderous roars once again rang through the whole of Devil Cold City. Having witnessed the three shocking duels just now, the crowd had grown used to such earth-shaking scenes, yet they could not help but show expressions of awe—after all, if it were they up there facing such a terrifying technique, death would be certain, with not one chance of survival.

Everyone assumed the match would end here, that Cheng Haonan would follow in Wu Baoliang's footsteps—but just then, someone suddenly cried out in alarm: "Look!"

Following where the man pointed, every gaze in the crowd fell as one upon a single figure at the very center of the arena. Unable to make out the features clearly, they could not tell whether it was Wei Zhao or Cheng Haonan—but one thing was rather strange: a faint layer of black qi seemed to radiate from this person's body.

The feeling this black qi gave off was exactly the same as Wu Baoliang's earlier, though on a far smaller scale. Wu Baoliang's black qi had blotted out the heavens and covered the earth, whereas this person's black qi formed only a thin layer barely cloaking his surroundings. What use it had was still unknown, but at least it let the crowd below see a little more clearly.

The Mad Fire Thousand Explosions Fist was now at full blazing power, yet the figure shrouded in black qi darted to and fro across the arena like a phantom, his speed truly leaving the onlookers dumbstruck.

And most speechless of all, though this figure could not completely evade the Thousandfold Blasts, he successfully dodged more than eighty percent of them. Such godlike reaction speed left even the likes of Zhao Shanying, Hai Wuliang, and Qi Mingyuan unable to do anything but concede inferiority!

Without question, this black-qi-shrouded figure was none other than Cheng Haonan. Apart from lacking a powerful martial-technique trump card like the Mad Sand Thousand Explosions Fist, the strength he displayed in every other respect was absolutely top-tier—especially his body arts, built chiefly on ordinary punches and kicks. He was a veritable monster, truly awe-inspiring.

To trade blows with Wei Zhao—who was unleashing one powerful martial technique after another—using only ordinary body arts, and even to gain the upper hand and suppress Wei Zhao on every front: that in itself was already outrageous. But now, Cheng Haonan had truly shown them what it meant that there is no strongest—only stronger.

Seeing his opponent pass through the Thousandfold Blasts swift as a demon god, drawing ever closer, Wei Zhao's eyes abruptly narrowed. He dared hold nothing back any longer; without hesitation he gathered all the fire crystals condensed within the skyward flames into the space between them, then detonated them all at once!

This was in fact extremely dangerous. Though the explosions of the fire crystals were all under the control of Wei Zhao's will, he himself was not fully immune to that incomparable, terrifying destructive force—he would likewise be caught in the blast. It was only that, with Mad Fire currently cloaking his whole body, he could to some degree be exempted from part of the damage.

Even so, this remained a genuinely risky move; injury to himself was unavoidable—a perfect case of wounding the enemy a thousand while losing eight hundred of one's own. Unless driven to the absolute end of his rope, Wei Zhao would never do such a thing.

But at this point, he had no other choice.

Boom! A thunderous crash of the highest order shook not only the whole of Devil Cold City, but sent towering waves surging even through the outer Devil Cold Sea—a horrifying scene of an approaching tsunami and impending doom, so that those still lingering unknowingly out at sea scrambled in panic, clutching their heads, terrified of becoming sacrifices buried in the ocean.

If even the outer waters were like this, the spectators gathered close at hand in Devil Cold Plaza could hardly be spared; caught in the blast of qi surging wildly from the arena, the whole crowd was thrown into utter confusion, and those of lesser strength even turned pale and coughed up mouthfuls of blood, shaken into internal injuries outright.

The Southern Continent Escort Agency Grand Gathering had been held for many years, and life-and-death duels in the arena had long since become commonplace; among them there had been no shortage of eye-catching clashes between titans. Yet even in five-on-five team battles, such terrifying commotion had never been produced—and never before had anyone heard of a spectator suffering internal injuries just from watching a match.

It must be said: this year's Southern Continent Escort Agency Grand Gathering was destined to go down in the annals. At the very least, Golden Core-stage experts of the caliber of Wei Zhao, Cheng Haonan, and Wu Baoliang were absolutely unprecedented—and in all likelihood never to be repeated; it would be hard for anyone to stand shoulder to shoulder with them again.

Amid the chaos, the skyward flames over the arena suddenly dimmed, and then a figure was seen flying backward, crashing down among the panicked crowd and setting off a fresh wave of commotion and uproar.

"Brother Ling!" Qi Wenmo's eyelid twitched; he rushed over at once to support the man—it was Wei Zhao.

"I'm fine," Wei Zhao said with a somewhat forced smile. After casting a deep look at Cheng Haonan on the arena, he immediately sat down cross-legged to heal his injuries.

In truth, the injuries he had taken this time were far more serious than when Wu Baoliang had struck him down before. After all, on that earlier occasion he had taken the precaution of shielding himself thoroughly with true qi in advance, and Wu Baoliang had not gone all out either. This time, however, he had suffered backlash from his own use of the Mad Fire Thousand Explosions Fist; even had he wished to guard against it, he could not have done so completely, so the injuries were naturally far heavier.

Fortunately, this time he had not been struck head-on by Cheng Haonan, but rather shaken by his own last-moment Thousandfold Blast; so as long as he healed in time, it would not be a serious problem.

The injuries were not the issue. The real question now was: what was to be done next?

At this moment, Cheng Haonan, standing on the arena, had also taken some injury in that instant Thousandfold Blast—but because he had dodged so swiftly, his injuries were far lighter than Wei Zhao's. That he could still stand calmly upon the arena was proof enough.