An Understated Dominance (Dustin Rhys)

After George's entrance, a chilling, eerie laughter echoed through the arena. At the stime, a swirling cloud of scarlet mist rushed in from the distance.

The mist was about ten feet in radius. It radiated a dark, sinister energy, and its shape constantly shifted. One moment, it morphed into a massive skull, then twisted into a devil with bared fangs and claws.

The sight of this unnerving mist made the spectators gasp in alarm. They quickly scattered to clear the path.

The mist's terrifying appearance signaled evil intent, and they knew that coming into contact with it could be deadly.

The scarlet mist swirled over the battle ring. It deliberately circled the contestants' heads three times before crashing down with a thunderous bang.

A striking Streuquan man in a sharp suit emerged as the mist dissipated. His bold features, devious grin, and undeniable charm made him impossible to ignore. The man was Bill Wolfe.

"I can't believe that narcissistic jerk actually showed up,” Aurora muttered with a scowl, her eyes flashing with disdain. "I hope Fenley teaches him a lesson." "With so many skilled fighters from Dragonmarsh, Fenley might not even need to step in," Alicia said.

After last night's fight, she realized Bill was no match for Fenley. Instead, George seemed more dangerous and was worth watching out for.

"Listen up, Dragonmarsh martial artists!" Bill turned to face the contestants.

He said arrogantly, "I'm an aristocrat with pure blood from Esmington. My goal is to win the Combat Tournament championship. If you don't want to die, you'd better surrender now. Otherwise, I'll make you experience terror and despair!" The spectators were seething with anger from his words and began to shout insults.

"Dammit! This kid's got snerve, publicly challenging us like that. Does he have a death wish?" "To hell with him! If it weren't for the risk of disrupting the event, I'd kill him right now!" "Countin!" His flashy entrance might have been acceptable if it was just for attention. But now, before the match had even begun, Bill was brazenly belittling Dragonmarsh martial artists. Even the spectators could no longer tolerate his disrespect.

"Ha! Does this c*cky Streuquan bat think he can run wild here? He's got a death wish!” a hulking figure on the battle ring suddenly shouted. He was wearing a hat with a long blade strapped behind his back.

His imposing figure and piercing eyes commanded respect, even without displaying any anger. He had a commanding presence that made him stand out as extraordinary.

"Who are you?" Bill snarled.

"I'm Jermaine Walsen, the chief senior disciple of the Soultech Union,” the man with the hat replied coldly. The Soultech Union was a prestigious guild in the martial world. Although they had only a few disciples, each was an elite martial artist.

Jermaine was halfway to becoming a grandmaster but already had the strength to rival one. He was among the 12 standout participants who had fought through thousands of Group B contestants.

"Jermaine, huh? Fine! I'll deal with you first!" Bill immediately blurred into a mysterious red blood shadow and appeared behind Jermaine. He bared his fangs and lunged, aiming to sink his teeth into Jermaine's neck. "You've got a death wish!” Jermaine's eyes turned cold. The long blade on his back suddenly shot out of its sheath, its icy gleam slashing toward Bill's head.

Bill tucked his chin in. His razor-sharp fangs clamped onto Jermaine's blade with a sharp clang.

"Hmm?" Jermaine yanked at his blade, but it wouldn't budge. He was taken aback by the sheer power of Bill's bite.

Bill's sinister laughter echoed as he clamped down on the blade. At the stime, his fingernails shot out like razor-sharp blades. He stabbed viciously toward Jermaine's chest and abdomen.

Jermaine scowled. With his blade stuck, he had to retreat. Just as he took a few steps back, Bill's figure vanished as if he had never been there.

"Look out behind you!" A warning shout echoed from the crowd.

Jermaine spun instinctively, his eyes widening as a massive, gaping mouth bore down on him. There was no escape.

Just as he braced for the deadly bite, a loud crash rocked the arena, Bith was thrown through the air like a ragdoll. He landed heavily more than 30 feet away from the ring. His hair was scorched, his clothes ripped to shreds, and he writhed uncontrollably as though struck by a powerful electric shock. He lay there, completely immobilized.

"The match hasn't even started yet. Personal fights between contestants are not allowed. This is just a warning. Any further violations will result in disqualification." On the battle ring, Oron stood impassive, and his expression was unreadable. A faint crackle of lightning flickered between his fingers.

The events had unfolded so quickly that most of the crowd was confused, with only a few witnessing it.

Just as Bill's massive jaws were about to bite Jermaine, Oron unleashed Stormcraft, which sent Bill flying through the air. This technique, known as the Five Stormcraft Art, was used to deal with dark creatures.

Bill couldn't withstand the powerful Stormcraft despite his remarkable recovery abilities.

X