One after another, arrows rained down like falling stars, not from above—but from every direction. Kent became a storm. His eyes glowed, his arms moved faster than the human eye could follow, and the Divine Quiver fed him unlimited spells, each drawn from ancient godly battles.
As he stood on the storm god throne, it moved constantly an changed Kent’s position.
The sky was filled with streaks of death.
The crowd stood frozen.
Even elders leaned forward.
“How is he—”
“His casting speed is beyond the level of Earth Immortal Magus!”
“This isn’t just physical archery—he’s combining spells and divine formations within every shot!”
One elder clenched his hand. “He’s using War Mage Archery, a lost style!”
Below, Lee Dong was forced back. The arena cracked and exploded around him. Dust, wind, and a thousand streaks of light consumed the battlefield. He spun, twisted, dodged, slashed—and still, more arrows came.
A storm of blood and sweat drenched them both.
Kent’s lips were cracked, and veins bulged across his neck. Each breath was fire. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
He poured everything—will, rage, survival—into the bow.
But then—
Lee Dong stopped moving. He stood still, blood on his cheek, eyes narrowed.
“Enough.”
With a smirk, he raised one hand, spinning Yama’s Fang, the Grand Master saber. The edge blurred—fast, faster, then impossibly fast—as he infused it with spatial wind intent. The weapon spirit which is a 3 headed Lion roared as it came to life in fury.
A cold chant passed his lips.
“Mighty Lion’s Guard: Blade Dome.”
WHOOOOM—
A silvery dome of blade-light exploded outward from him, spiraling in all directions like a tornado made of rotating sword shadows. It expanded in an instant, reaching fifteen meters, then twenty.
Every arrow that approached—
Shattered. Exploded. Was flung away like paper in a hurricane.
The crowd gasped.
Kent’s rain of attacks hit the unbreakable wall of sword energy—and was repelled entirely. Arrows reversed and flew into walls. Some spiraled upward and vanished. Others simply burst into spark and smoke.
Kent stopped, gasping for breath.
He stared at Lee Dong, now smirking inside the rotating field of saber defense, standing like a monarch untouched by storms. “Your aim is fierce,” Lee said casually, “but without the strength to pierce my reality, you’re just a child throwing needles.”
Kent’s fingers trembled on the bowstring.
The crowd murmured, divided between awe and dread.
But as time passed, everything came to stand still. Lee stood smugly without attacking.
A silence heavier than death clung to the Grand Arena as Kent lowered his bow, sweat streaming down his neck, armor glinting under the pale immortal sun. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, and his limbs trembled just enough to convince even the sharpest cultivator that he was nearly spent.
On the other side, Lee Dong grinned and began making arrogant, taunting gestures—twirling his Grand Master saber like a dancing toy, then slashing air as if slicing Kent’s throat.
“What’s wrong, bow boy?” Lee called, mocking. “Out of tricks? Maybe you should have begged mercy when your toys broke!”
He walked confidently inside his Blade Dome, eyes shining with contempt.
But Kent’s gaze never left him. Not even for a moment. Behind that weak stare, behind the shaking arms and labored breathing—was a mind calculating death.
Suddenly—
Kent’s body straightened.
With a grunt, he reached behind him and pulled seven arrows at once from the Divine Quiver, their shafts darker than obsidian, dripping faint green mist. A strange toxic sheen shimmered as divine inscriptions on the tips glowed purple.
“Venom Rain: Serpent Fang Strike.”
With one roar, Kent loosed all seven arrows in a fan-shaped volley.
Each carried a different compound—poison extracted from Serpent Lotus, Scorpion Tail Mushrooms, Violet Abyss Blooms, and rare miasmic beasts Kent had hunted in his past life-and-death journeys.
Lee Dong scoffed. “Still throwing sticks?”
He activated his sword dome again, letting the arrows slam and shatter before even touching him.
BOOM—FSSSHH!
But this time— they exploded in mid-air.
A green mist spread like wildfire—unnatural, oily, and cold. It covered the area in seconds, fusing with the spiritual qi, creating a strange distortion. The mist didn’t just obscure vision; it seemed to bite into the senses, numbing spiritual awareness.
Lee’s eyes widened. The stench was off. He inhaled sharply. Then stumbled.
“This smell… it’s wrong!”
The crowd murmured in confusion.
Above in the spectator stands, Pool Master Bu Dong shot up from his divine cushion, alarm flashing in his ancient eyes. “That’s not ordinary poison.”
Elder Liam’s face darkened. “That’s a death Poison.”
Below, Lee Dong staggered and instinctively reached into his storage ring, grabbing pill after pill—green, silver, gold—swallowing them like candy.
“Purge, you damn body! Cleanse it!” he shouted, veins bulging across his forehead.
But the poison was no ordinary venom. It didn’t attack the body—it crawled inside his spirit meridians, sinking into his immortal energy veins and interfering with his circulation. His weapon arm faltered, his knees buckled. A cold sweat formed.
The crowd gasped.
“No way—he’s faltering?”
“That poison’s eating his meridians!”
“Look at his face! He’s scared—!”
For the first time in the entire battle, Lee Dong showed a flicker of genuine fear.
Kent, eyes sharp, voice cold, stepped forward. “That’s no ordinary toxin. It’s mixed from the death-pools of the Lurking Serpent Swamp, where even Heaven Immortal beasts die choking. You blocked it like a child playing with wind.”
Lee growled. “You tricked me!”
Kent’s lips curled into the faintest smile. “War isn’t fair. A peak earth magus fighting a Mid earth magus… is that fair?! We never crossed paths, but you came to kill me… Is that fair?”
Lee Dong’s eyes went wide in shock after hearing Kent. Thankfully, the pills he swallowed helped him to slow down the poison and it’s effects.
Angered and Unable to cleanse the poison fully, Lee Dong decided with a grim heart: Finish it now or risk collapse.
He raised Yama’s Fang, eyes bloodshot, and drew deep from his inner well.
“DIE THEN, YOU RAT!”
He unleashed a saber art blessed by ancient heavenly beasts— “Nine Suns Slash of Severed Skies!”
Nine crescent arcs blazed from his blade, warping space and ripping apart the arena floor. Each strike carried burning sun intent, designed to purify and annihilate even spirit residue.
The force stormed toward Kent like a thousand collapsing stars.
In the viewing area, even high elders flinched.
Bu Dong’s hand gripped the armrest. “This is the final form. He’s aiming to end it before the poison wins…”
The Grand Arena quaked.
Kent stared into the incoming death. But he did not step back. He stretched his hands wide and golden scales began wrapping his skin as he muttered the ‘Inner spirit transformation of Golden Body’.
–
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