People had already gathered and he rushed into the crowd, As the Judge yelled, 'Today's first round is about to begin! The rules are the same as yesterday!" , "On your left is Jung-Yeo from the Wudang Sect" ,"And on your right is Zen from.. the blood cult?!"
A confused chatter started among the crowd, "How could someone from the blood cult still be alive", "He's lying!".
"Both of you! Draw your weapons!" the judge yelled. The man from the Wudang sect, drew his sword, which was tied onto his waist, and so did Zen. They bowed towards each other as per common courtesy.
"Begin!" the judge yelled, as the chatter died down among the crowd, as everyone paid attention towards the platform.
Jung-Yeo launched with his sword in hand, towards Zen, however, to everyone's astonishment, all Zen did was sheath his sword. Jung-Yeo was getting closer, he was about to slash Zen, his sword leaked Qi as it reached Zen's neck, however it never hit. For Zen had long ago dodged this attack, he appeared behind Jung-Yeo, but before Jung-Yeo could even react, Zen said, "Frost-Flame Fist Technique, Restrained Release" as he orbited his hands around a small sphere, which glowed a deep red colour. As Jung-Yeo turned towards Zen, Zen had already dislocated, again, he was towards Jung-Yeo's back. The sphere disintegrated into Zen's hand, coating it with the same colour. Zen opened his fist and launched it towards Jung-Yeo's heart, aiming to rip it out of his rib cage swiftly, his hand was going to pierce through Jung-Yeo's skin, he knew that this man was no match for him, but then he realised, in order to win this tournament, he's supposed to beat his opponent, not kill him, as soon as he realised this, he closed his fist, but it was far too late, his hand had already pierced through Jung-Yeo, his heart was now in Zen's hand. He retracted his hands as a reflex, but Jung-Yeo was dead. His eyes widened in shock as he realised that he would be thrown out of the tournament, and maybe even face a death penalty.
The judge, who was just narrating the fight, was now dead silent, so was the crowd, a few seconds passed until the judge spoke, "Contestant Zen will be disqualified for killing Wudang Sect's Jung-Yeo.", "He shall now face the death Penalty". The judge spoke as Five Martial Artists jumped onto the platform, as another two recovered the dead body. Zen tried to run but was outpaced, he had no choice but to fight, right here, right now. He then readied the fist he had just used to kill Jung-Yeo and rushed to the martial artist closest to him. The martial artists readied their swords to kill Zen, but the one close to him was far too slow, before he even touched his sword, his throat was pulled out as he fell to the ground. His body burned up into flames.
One of the remaining Martial Artists screamed, "SUBJECT IS AT LEAST A MARTIA-" his heart was pulled out, as his body froze. The remaining three jumped onto Zen all at once, but were met by a swift slash to their necks, two burned up into flames as the last one froze. All this happened in the span of 30 seconds.
"REQUESTING MARTIA-" the judge spoke, but was interrupted by a deeper voice, "I'll handle this myself."
As Zen tried to run, a tall, bulky old man hopped onto the platform, debris from the platform flew into the air as he landed, "EVERYONE PEEL YOUR EYES AND WATCH, THE ORTHODOX CHIEF COMMANDER IS ABOUT TO FIGHT!"
Zen focused all his strength into Qinggong and tried to run, but was caught by the old man, who was at least thrice his height. Zen launched his hand towards the hand that was grabbing him, focused a small amount of Mana into it, and blew it up. "You've got some fight in you." the old man said as he let go, "It would be a shame if I were to kill you right away, let's have some fun before that." he continued.
Zen knew running right now would be for naught, this old man's Qinggong skills far surpassed his own, and he bet it all on weakening him enough to run be able to run away.
"Divine Fist Technique, Restrained Release" the old man spoke, as what Zen recognized to be a hell of a lot of Qi rushed into his large hands.
As Zen drew his sword, he said, "Frost-Flame Sword Technique, Final Release!"
People had already gathered and he rushed into the crowd, As the Judge yelled, 'Today's first round is about to begin! The rules are the same as yesterday!" , "On your left is Jung-Yeo from the Wudang Sect" ,"And on your right is Zen from.. the blood cult?!"
A confused chatter started among the crowd, "How could someone from the blood cult still be alive", "He's lying!".
"Both of you! Draw your weapons!" the judge yelled. The man from the Wudang sect, drew his sword, which was tied onto his waist, and so did Zen. They bowed towards each other as per common courtesy.
"Begin!" the judge yelled, as the chatter died down among the crowd, as everyone paid attention towards the platform.
Jung-Yeo launched with his sword in hand, towards Zen, however, to everyone's astonishment, all Zen did was sheath his sword. Jung-Yeo was getting closer, he was about to slash Zen, his sword leaked Qi as it reached Zen's neck, however it never hit. For Zen had long ago dodged this attack, he appeared behind Jung-Yeo, but before Jung-Yeo could even react, Zen said, "Frost-Flame Fist Technique, Restrained Release" as he orbited his hands around a small sphere, which glowed a deep red colour. As Jung-Yeo turned towards Zen, Zen had already dislocated, again, he was towards Jung-Yeo's back. The sphere disintegrated into Zen's hand, coating it with the same colour. Zen opened his fist and launched it towards Jung-Yeo's heart, aiming to rip it out of his rib cage swiftly, his hand was going to pierce through Jung-Yeo's skin, he knew that this man was no match for him, but then he realised, in order to win this tournament, he's supposed to beat his opponent, not kill him, as soon as he realised this, he closed his fist, but it was far too late, his hand had already pierced through Jung-Yeo, his heart was now in Zen's hand. He retracted his hands as a reflex, but Jung-Yeo was dead. His eyes widened in shock as he realised that he would be thrown out of the tournament, and maybe even face a death penalty.
The judge, who was just narrating the fight, was now dead silent, so was the crowd, a few seconds passed until the judge spoke, "Contestant Zen will be disqualified for killing Wudang Sect's Jung-Yeo.", "He shall now face the death Penalty". The judge spoke as Five Martial Artists jumped onto the platform, as another two recovered the dead body. Zen tried to run but was outpaced, he had no choice but to fight, right here, right now. He then readied the fist he had just used to kill Jung-Yeo and rushed to the martial artist closest to him. The martial artists readied their swords to kill Zen, but the one close to him was far too slow, before he even touched his sword, his throat was pulled out as he fell to the ground. His body burned up into flames.
One of the remaining Martial Artists screamed, "SUBJECT IS AT LEAST A MARTIA-" his heart was pulled out, as his body froze. The remaining three jumped onto Zen all at once, but were met by a swift slash to their necks, two burned up into flames as the last one froze. All this happened in the span of 30 seconds.
"REQUESTING MARTIA-" the judge spoke, but was interrupted by a deeper voice, "I'll handle this myself."
As Zen tried to run, a tall, bulky old man hopped onto the platform, debris from the platform flew into the air as he landed, "EVERYONE PEEL YOUR EYES AND WATCH, THE ORTHODOX CHIEF COMMANDER IS ABOUT TO FIGHT!"
Zen focused all his strength into Qinggong and tried to run, but was caught by the old man, who was at least thrice his height. Zen launched his hand towards the hand that was grabbing him, focused a small amount of Mana into it, and blew it up. "You've got some fight in you." the old man said as he let go, "It would be a shame if I were to kill you right away, let's have some fun before that." he continued.
Zen knew running right now would be for naught, this old man's Qinggong skills far surpassed his own, and he bet it all on weakening him enough to run be able to run away.
"Divine Fist Technique, Restrained Release" the old man spoke, as what Zen recognized to be a hell of a lot of Qi rushed into his large hands.
As Zen drew his sword, he said, "Frost-Flame Sword Technique, Final Release!"
