“One second,” Jiang Ke’er said.
During the first second, the sound of wind and thunder erupted around the captain of Wasteland Combat Team Eight!
He left a sonic boom cloud in his wake, charging toward Jiang Ke’er with the unstoppable momentum of a plummeting meteorite!
Standing mere inches away, Jiang Ke’er seemed completely dazed.
She remained motionless and sluggish, looking as though she was about to be crushed into a pulp.
Toward the end of that first second, Jiang Ke’er finally began to move her body with agonizing slowness.
Ever since she had been forced to wear two Strength Suppression Bracelets on her arms, she had realized one truth—dodging wasn’t about speed; it was about doing just enough.
Anything more was a waste.
Because of that, she now pursued perfection in every movement.
A violent gale brushed past Jiang Ke’er’s face. Before the high-speed winds could suck her into the vacuum cavity, the world before her eyes slowed down.
*Clang—*
A minimalist flash of sword light barely traced a few lines in the air. The fleeting Frost Shadow Fragrance vanished before anyone could even register it.
Meanwhile, Jiang Ke’er had already moved from one side of the arena to the other.
Her simple yet breathtakingly beautiful figure lacked any dazzling special effects.
Jiang Ke’er simply rested her hand elegantly on her sword hilt, allowing her floating long hair to settle slowly as she opened her mouth and let out a weary yawn.
The other members of Wasteland Combat Team Eight still wore mocking expressions, waiting for the show to begin.
No one could survive their captain’s high-speed collision unscathed.
A suicidal move like Jiang Ke’er’s, where she didn’t even try to dodge… Oh, wait.
“Two seconds,” Jiang Ke’er said slowly.
Only then did a thin, dark-red bloodline light up on every member of Wasteland Combat Team Eight.
They seemed to realize something. Not a single one of them dared to move, fearing that the slightest motion would cause those dark-red lines to split open. If that happened, there would be no saving them.
However, the gale whipped up by the captain of Wasteland Combat Team Eight was still raging across the arena, having had no time to settle.
The wind, arriving far too late, crushed their final hope of survival. That tiny amount of force became the straw that broke the camel’s back.
*Squish—*
A sickening, wet sound echoed as flesh rubbed against flesh.
“Three seconds,” Jiang Ke’er finally said, her foot stepping outside the arena. “Now you know what happens after three seconds…”
‘I’ll go home and eat dinner, while you all stay here and eat dirt.’
Under the camera lenses, Taishu Xuan’s mouth hung open. His face was deathly pale as if his soul had left his body.
His mind was a complete blank as he stared daintily at the corpses of his teammates on the stage.
His goal had been to push for a spot in the top four.
According to his calculations, the worst-case scenario was falling in the top eight; no worse outcome should have been possible.
And yet.
The split-apart bodies were no different from the pig carcasses hanging on a butcher’s rack in a wet market.
Looking at the chunks of meat on the arena, each still wearing expressions of faint contempt and mockery, Taishu Xuan was unable to produce any reaction at all.
Six months ago, Team Sixteen, which he was responsible for, had suffered a sudden and freakish defeat on the arena.
It had become a permanent stain on his life, one he still hadn’t managed to explain clearly to the Wasteland Combat Main Sect.
He had hoped to use Wasteland Combat Team Eight to redeem himself.
Using his connections with the higher-ups of the Main Sect, he thought he could delay his punishment.
Wasteland Combat Team Eight had been his only remaining hope.
But now…
Three seconds. No, to be precise, it had taken just over one second.
In a single encounter.
Everything had burst like a bubble, just like his future.
“Excuse me, all your teammates are dead. What are your feelings right now?” a reporter asked, blinking as they shoved a microphone forward.
Where did this idiot reporter come from?!
The other journalists around felt a wave of secondhand anxiety for him.
At that moment, Taishu Xuan had no intention of answering any questions.
He covered his face as the strength drained from his body, and he collapsed limply onto the ground.
His mouth stayed open, a wheezing sound escaping his throat as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
“Honored One Taishu Xuan, we suspect you of leading your team in Match Fixing. Please follow us back to the sect immediately for investigation.”
Several Cultivators wearing the attire of the Wasteland Combat Main Sect suddenly approached, placing Energy Suppression Shackles around Taishu Xuan’s neck.
Taishu Xuan opened his mouth again, but he still couldn’t find his voice.
From the side, Jiang Ke’er couldn’t watch any longer.
“Alright, stop bullying him. He’s miserable enough already,” Jiang Ke’er said, pushing through the crowd.
Under the gaze of the cameras, she walked to Taishu Xuan’s side, frowning at the Cultivators from the Main Sect.
“Have you ever seen anyone fix a match by throwing away their own lives? Please don’t doubt Senior Taishu Xuan’s professional integrity!”
The Cultivators from the Wasteland Combat Main Sect were silenced.
Taishu Xuan looked at Jiang Ke’er with a sudden flash of gratitude, only to hear her speak again:
“…They were just pure trash.”
Having said her piece, Jiang Ke’er turned and walked away.
It was as if another knife had been driven into his heart. A small stream of blood leaked from the corner of Taishu Xuan’s mouth.
Then, his vision went black, and he fainted.
“That wasn’t just Shrimp Kernel; it was a Pig Heart,” Jie Shui said with a look of pained sympathy before giving a thumbs-up. “Nice work. Just what I expected from you.”
“I’ve realized you’re far better at mockery than I am,” Gan Ruǎnruǎn said, cupping her hands in respect toward Jiang Ke’er.
“Your mockery has reached a level of dimensional suppression. It’s like you’ve shown me a brand-new world, something incomprehensible and from another dimension… Teach me when we get back.”
How could these straightforward, honest ancients possibly imagine the passive-aggressive sarcasm of the twenty-first century?
“Sure thing~”
Jiang Ke’er agreed with a mischievous grin.
Since she had already maxed out her hatred points, she might as well let the storm rage even harder!
“Not just Ruan Ruan; all of you should learn from Qing Yi when we get back,” Si Lian suddenly said.
“Qing Yi, organize your thoughts and teach everyone. It’ll be very useful.”
“No problem!”
‘Man, I’m starting to feel a bit bad for our opponents.’
She observed a second of silence for them.
The next day.
After a day of intense combat yesterday, the original 128 teams had been whittled down to only sixty-four.
“Qing Yi is an expert in speed, a burst-damage assassin. Gan Ruǎnruǎn has balanced strength and speed, and she’s good at using trash talk to provoke opponents into one-on-one duels, drawing them into her carefully crafted rhythm. Jie Shui is a mindless strength-type meat shield. Lin Gang looks as dull and mindless as Jie Shui but is actually a meticulous meat shield. A Miao, the core mage of their team, is a powerful damage dealer but could also be a trap.”
The Team Coach for Celestial God Team 4 gave a thin smile, glancing dismissively at Si Lian.
He continued, “I’ve seen through your little tricks completely… Taishu Xuan lost because of his mindless arrogance, but I never underestimate my enemies. Besides, our strength is far superior to yours. As long as we aren’t affected by Gan Ruǎnruǎn’s mockery and don’t fall into your four-on-four rhythm, your defeat is certain.”
“Then we’re doomed. You must have prepared in advance and had your members practice anti-mockery techniques,” Si Lian said, her face clouded with worry.
“Exactly. Their hearts are now as still as water. It’s impossible for them to be provoked by your crude mockery!”