Chapter Forty-Nine: The Final Blow

Expansion, expansion, ceaseless expansion—Han Tianyue’s soul swelled ever larger.

“What is this?” The elders who had conjured the illusion of the entire arena opened their eyes once more. For the second time, they did so on Han Tianyue’s account.

Han Tianyue tried desperately to restrain his burgeoning soul, but the overwhelming surge of energy made it nearly impossible to control.

One of the elders exclaimed, “So it is—a Heart of Ice, sealed deep within his soul!”

“A Heart of Ice, and such a powerful prohibition used to seal it—who would go to such ruthless lengths against a mere child?” another elder remarked.

“I’ve looked over this child’s records—he’s an orphan.”

“In that case, this lad must have an extraordinary origin. It’s because of his lineage that someone so mysterious imposed this formidable seal upon him!”

The elders had already committed Han Tianyue’s name to memory. One day, they would uncover the truth behind his origins.

No one else noticed the elders’ whispered conversation, for at that moment, Mao Xuanzi’s ring of fire hurtled toward Boca.

“The Amber Era!” Boca’s half of the sky blazed with orange-gold light. The ring of fire was held at bay, yet Boca still suffered burns from the searing heat.

“Mao Xuanzi, you’ve shown all your strength. Now I’ll unleash my final blow!” Boca could tell that Mao Xuanzi’s condition was no better than his own. “Amber Era!”

Mao Xuanzi shouted in reply, “Scorching Palm Imprint!”

With their last reserves, Boca’s face broke into a cold, detached smile—a smile Mao Xuanzi could perceive in Boca’s eyes, even if his expression was hidden. He smiled, as handsome as ever.

With a heavy thud, Mao Xuanzi collapsed.

Boca had won.

“I’ve lost,” Mao Xuanzi murmured, lifting his head to watch Boca’s retreating figure.

Boca smirked coldly and stepped down from the stage without looking back.

With Mao Xuanzi’s defeat, it meant Han Tianyue’s team had lost to the legendary duo. Yet Han Tianyue still stood upon the platform, facing Luo Ye.

“One last strike!” Though his soul was bloated nearly beyond bearing, Han Tianyue managed, with the last vestige of his will, to shout aloud.

The air around them plummeted in temperature as Luo Ye braced himself for the impending clash.

A shattering sound rang out.

Space itself fractured; the fragments crumbled by Luo Ye hovered like blades suspended in midair. Under Han Tianyue’s icy onslaught, the shards of space surged outward, razor-sharp and deadly.

Luo Ye cried out as he was pierced by his own fragmented space, and collapsed in defeat.

Han Tianyue had won—yet it was still a loss.

“I defeated Luo Ye…” Han Tianyue’s soul managed a faint smile, and before his eyes flashed the image of Prince Mao. Prince Mao smiled, so sweetly, so warmly—in that laughter, consciousness faded from Han Tianyue.

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