CHAPTER 558: CHAPTER 558 START OF THE MELEE

Even without saying anything, did Yang Tian not already know what was on his mind? He merely sneered and said, "Oh? Then what do you mean?"

"I... I was just giving a suggestion! It’s just a suggestion!"

Hee Jin hurriedly said, "I heard your group has four people: two disciples of the White Sky King and two of the Lord of the Night. If you can open one side of the net without harming them, then one way or another, as long as you kill ten people, you can proceed to the city without any issues. I believe with Heaven’s favor, once you enter the city, you can do whatever you want!"

"Four?"

Upon hearing this, Yang Tian merely smiled faintly and said, "I already know."

With that, he closed his eyes again, paying no more attention to Hee Jin.

As to whether he really knew or not, only Yang Tian could say for sure!

...

By the afternoon, fewer and fewer people were signing up to participate in the Gladiator Arena’s battles, and the chaos officially began.

As participants, they were allowed to enter the arena’s stands.

"Haha! Blood! Screams! Kill them!"

"Come here! Hundreds are battling it out! Who knows how many will die this time! Haha, so exhilarating!"

"Hey! We’re performing now—it’s your moment to join in!"

"The best of the best are here—it’s beyond thrilling!"

As Yang Tian and the Martial Arts Elders stepped into the arena, they were met with deafening screams from the crowd around them.

Bloodlust and slaughter!

These were humanity’s basest, ugliest urges, all converging upon this single arena.

Yet, to these sounds, Yang Tian remained indifferent, stepping calmly onto the battlefield.

Since his demonic reconstruction, Yang Tian had gradually evolved from a weak, helpless boy into a figure of legend!

How many life-or-death trials had he endured to get here?

The impending slaughter, in his eyes, was as insignificant as the gravel beneath his feet. Just something to step across!

As for the Old Sword Spirit, his heart was blank at this moment. He simply followed behind Yang Tian like an empty husk, unsure if he was numb or simply at a loss for words.

This was a battle royale of a hundred fighters. Naturally, Yang Tian was not the only one stepping into the arena. With the shouts and cries for slaughter reaching a deafening pitch, a sea of vicious assassins, thirsting for blood, began surging into the fray.

On the battlefield, a palpable pressure built as strong presences gathered amid the clamor—until, without warning, the cacophony suddenly ceased.

Because above the stands in front of the stage, four luminous lights suddenly blazed to life. Then, as if descending from the heavens, four figures gradually floated down onto the stands.

Yang Tian looked up, and for the first time, he recognized one of them. It was someone with whom he had a shared history, someone he had crossed paths with before.

As for the others, even if Yang Tian did not know them, their identities were obvious.

The Right Envoy of the Day King, and the Left and Right Hands of the Night King!

When they appeared, people shouted in unison, welcoming their arrival in the name of the Holy Spirit.

Yet, amidst these voices, there was an air of confusion, even from Hee Jin, who stood on the stands. He couldn’t help but furrow his brow deeply!

Because for a battle—to the death—like this, it was unusual, almost beneath their notice, for figures like the King and the King’s emissaries to personally observe from the stands.

And yet, here they were—all four emissaries together! An event unprecedented in history.

These four emissaries, though their strength stopped at half-step, held high-ranking positions in the chaotic capital!

They represented the will of the King and the Night King!

At this thought, Hee Jin couldn’t help but glance back at Yang Tian, thinking: "Heavenly Venerate! Heavenly Venerate! With four emissaries watching, you must... you absolutely mustn’t provoke the King’s and Night King’s disciples."

Tap!

Hee Jin’s thoughts were interrupted as the four emissaries took their seats. Each brought with them four younger individuals, who walked forward. These were the same disciples, trained in both day and night disciplines, who had entered this blood-soaked battle royale.

When the crowd saw these four disciples emerge, a wave of dread swept over their faces!

Because these four were the disciples of the King and the Night King, they would not be trifled with lightly!

Simply put, anyone could kill them, but they themselves were not allowed to be eliminated by others. At most, one might wound them enough to render them unable to fight, but even that was a rarity!

These disciples of the King and Night King were among the strongest, most formidable presences across the chaotic seas of this earth. To take action against them was no small task!

And they knew it! The disciples on the stands clearly understood the privilege of their position. They looked down upon the competitors in the arena with nothing but derision and ridicule in their eyes—no fear, no tension, only a smirk-filled confidence.

"Let’s keep this simple!" one of them shouted. "Kill ten people, and come back!"

Su Youu cast his gaze toward the disciples and began speaking slowly.

The other emissaries nodded slightly.

When the four disciples heard this, they immediately burst into laughter and leapt down onto the stage, standing tall amidst the fighters below.

They radiated arrogance, their confidence unmatched. The battlefield erupted in chaos as dozens of fighters surged forward, and the bloodletting began.

From the stands, Lord Su gradually announced, "Kill ten people, and you may enter the city."

"If you kill fewer than ten, then the last ten survivors will determine who makes it into the city. Let the battle begin!"

So, even the last ten survivors could enter the city?

Hearing this, everyone exchanged glances.

Clearly, this was no ordinary set of battle royale rules. Upon further reflection, the fighters realized that surviving as one of the final ten was likely far more difficult than simply killing ten people!

Thus, the King’s decree ignited a frenzy of death and slaughter.

Death... death everywhere.

Watching the blood spray as someone was torn apart mid-sword swing, the fighters couldn’t help but exchange nervous glances.

But what followed was hatred and despair!

Though they were all locked in mortal combat, the promise that anyone killing ten fighters would qualify had at least offered a glimmer of hope—no matter how slim.

But now, as one disciple of the King killed the ninth of his ten targets with ease, the next victim fell to his blade. It was obvious—this disciple of the King was playing with them!

Sure enough, seeing this act of cruelty, the other three disciples sneered. One of them even laughed, saying, "Big Brother, you’re too cruel!" They still had a shred of hope!"

"Hope?"

The other disciple sneered. "What’s the point of hope if you’re Du Shidi’s prey?"

"That’s simple!"

The very Du Shidi they were speaking of smiled cruelly. "Once they kill ten people and qualify, I’ll kill them anyway! Taking hope from someone the moment they clutch it, only to cast them into despair—that’s what makes it fun."

"Hahaha! Du Shidi, your turn! As for me, I’ll follow my dear brother’s lead!"

The disciple mocked the fighters, daring them to move. "Continue your slaughter, but don’t blame me for not reminding you—this royale has no time limit! If, by the time this incense stick burns out, more than ten remain standing, all will be erased!"

At his words, horror spread across the fighters’ faces.

Though they knew that killing ten would draw reprisals from the emissaries’ own disciples, they had no choice but to descend into a mad frenzy of killing again.

Before a third of the incense burned, the second killer emerged, having claimed his ten victims.

But just as he completed his task, a saboteur—the blade of a Night King disciple—sliced downward, delivering a devastating blow to his Dantian, shattering it before he had a chance to celebrate!

As time passed, more and more fighters fell, three, four, five now reaching the finish line. Yet for many, their reward for killing ten was betrayal—a brutal elimination at the hands of the King’s disciples.