Murong Qiu clearly hadn't expected to face Jiang Chen on an occasion like this. With so many participants, what kind of fate could have brought them onto the same stage?
Jiang Chen was certainly not fond of Murong Qiu, but Murong Qiu's hatred for Jiang Chen ran far deeper.
The moment they stepped onto the arena, Murong Qiu had been sizing Jiang Chen up with hostile eyes, staring daggers at him, his gaze brimming with killing intent.
"Well, well, if it isn't the young lord of the Murong clan?" Jiang Chen said with a mocking lilt. "Back when the Royal Court Great Clan revolted, I thought all those clan empires built on nepotistic ties would have been dealt with. How is it yours is still standing?"
Murong Qiu's lungs nearly burst from rage. He said coldly, "Listen here, Zhen whatever-your-name-is, don't get cocky. In alchemy, fine, you're formidable — but in the world of martial arts, this is ultimately the stage for martial geniuses. Today you're simply out of luck, running into me. Old grudges and new — I'm going to settle every last score with you."
His tone dripped with venom, making no attempt to conceal his loathing.
On this arena, he finally had a legitimate chance to kill his opponent.
If he could eliminate Pill King Zhen, it would be a great service in the eyes of the Shura Great Emperor.
Seeing Murong Qiu's face plastered with inexplicable confidence, Jiang Chen couldn't help but laugh. "A martial genius? Surely you're not talking about yourself?"
Jiang Chen studied the man carefully. Compared to before, Murong Qiu's cultivation had risen a level — from the seventh stage of the Saint Realm to the eighth. But in a competition like the Genius Rankings, what kind of advantage could such a level possibly grant?
A cold smile tugged at the corner of Murong Qiu's lips. To Jiang Chen, the smile looked oddly out of place. He had already dominated and defeated multiple opponents in overwhelming fashion, and while he hadn't revealed his full strength, at least the tip of the iceberg was on display.
With Murong Qiu's mere eighth-stage Saint Realm cultivation, Jiang Chen genuinely couldn't fathom where this confidence came from, or what that smile was based on.
Still, Murong Qiu's abnormal composure set off alarm bells in Jiang Chen's mind.
"This Murong Qiu is scion of a great clan — he might possess some unusual inheritance. And now that I've become a thorn in the Shura Great Emperor's side, there's every chance Murong Qiu received some treasure from him."
An eighth-stage Saint Realm Murong Qiu? Jiang Chen didn't fear that in the slightest.
What he wary of were the trump cards that hadn't been revealed yet.
But looking at a character like Murong Qiu, Jiang Chen felt no real apprehension. Even if the man possessed some impressive treasure, using it on a waste like Murong Qiu would be nothing short of a waste itself — there was no way it could unleash its full power.
With that thought, Jiang Chen had already made up his mind.
No matter what cards Murong Qiu was hiding, Jiang Chen decided he would strike first. He would absolutely not give the man any chance to play them.
"Murong Qiu, back when we met outside, I told you — what happened that day wasn't going to just blow over."
Murong Qiu let out an odd laugh. "Those are exactly the words I was going to say to you."
Jiang Chen nodded slowly. Then, in a flash, the formation plate pulsed, and eight statues materialized from the void, instantly surrounding Murong Qiu.
Against Murong Qiu, Jiang Chen had no intention of holding anything back.
The overwhelming power of the eight statues immediately sealed off every force field on the arena.
Murong Qiu's expression shifted, but Jiang Chen had already leaped into the fray.
The Flying Feather Mirror swept across Murong Qiu in one pass, and his entire body went rigid for a split second — the evasion he had been about to execute stuttered, falling half a beat behind.
Jiang Chen seized that half-beat window and drove his foot straight into Murong Qiu's chest.
The sudden turn of events sent the entire arena into an uproar.
Murong Qiu's body flew like a sandbag, kicked clean off his feet. Jiang Chen followed up with kick after kick — bang, bang, bang, like pounding a sack. Murong Qiu didn't even have time to react, tumbling off the stage like a dead dog.
Thud!
Murong Qiu's body crashed below the arena like a torn burlap sack. His face was ashen, his entire frame felt like it had fallen apart, and from his nose came only the faintest outward breath, with nothing flowing back in.
For a moment, every spectator was struck dumb.
Dead?
Earlier, Jiang Chen had killed Xiao Paohui in a display of overwhelming force. Although Xiao Paohui had been powerful, nobody really knew the man, so his death — while shocking — hadn't rattled people too deeply.
But Murong Qiu? He was one of the most prominent young lords in the Glass King City. The Murong Great Clan might not have been at the pinnacle like the Panlong Great Clan, but as a great clan force, it held significant standing in the city.
On this arena, Pill King Zhen had just beaten the young lord of the Murong Great Clan to death with a few kicks!
How deep did this hatred run?!
The people from the Murong Great Clan stared wide-eyed, utterly unable to accept the reality unfolding before them.
"Young Master!" the Murong Clan Lord screamed hoarsely.