Arena of the Empty Tower (Gladiator) Chapter Sixty-Four: Fight, Six

Zhao Xingluan, upon discovering Wu Hui's location, dashed straight toward him. Several robots guarded him as he advanced, only to be swallowed up by the explosion.

He saw Wu Hui perched atop the steel beams, and Wu Hui looked back at him, expectant, hoping Zhao Xingluan would pursue him.

Yet Zhao Xingluan halted, clearly suspecting a trap hidden within the stacked steel—perhaps it would collapse and bury him. Wu Hui felt a tinge of disappointment, though being seen through wasn’t entirely surprising. He prepared to activate his backup plan.

But in the next moment, Zhao Xingluan unexpectedly charged upward. This caught Wu Hui off guard: for Zhao Xingluan to rush in, knowing full well there might be a trap, meant he must have a way to counter it. Or perhaps it was merely psychological warfare?

Wu Hui did not dwell on it, swiftly triggering the trap. With a resounding blast, the steel was overturned. Wu Hui caught an octopus tentacle dangling from above, only to see Zhao Xingluan, who should have been buried, flicker through the air. A strip of cloth shot out from his hand, seizing Wu Hui’s ankle.

The random teleportation dice activated.

Wu Hui landed, Zhao Xingluan soared, but his cloth latched onto the factory's roof, and with another flicker, he landed safely.

A flying knife approached, another explosion erupted.

Within the flames, his bandages formed a circular shield, absorbing the blast and allowing for a steady landing.

A white wolf lunged at him. The octopus, stuck to the ceiling, dropped down, several tentacles smearing toward Zhao Xingluan’s face.

Zhao Xingluan’s eyes finally opened fully. He activated a one-time reward acquired in a previous game—a gleaming oval shield enveloped him, shutting out all these attacks.

The Lightning Book triggered; bolts illuminated the ground, causing the wolf to howl in agony. Bandages stabbed out, slicing the octopus to pieces.

Wu Hui’s summoning strategy was still incomplete; a handful of summoned beasts were dispatched with ease. Aside from forcing Zhao Xingluan to reveal a few cards, they inflicted no real harm.

“Ah, what a nuisance,” Zhao Xingluan shook his head. To be struggling so much against a Level Two player—the opponent had every right to be proud.

He walked toward Wu Hui, but suddenly stopped.

The ground ahead was coated in slippery ice. Simply maintaining balance would consume vast energy, let alone fighting.

Wu Hui pushed up his glasses, standing in this frosty world, took out two grenades and hurled them at Zhao Xingluan.

A thunderous roar followed.

Zhao Xingluan’s light shield still held, so the attack was harmless. Then, a massive stone plummeted from above.

Blinking into action, Zhao Xingluan escaped from beneath the stone before his shield shattered. He seized his cloth, swinging through the air like Spider-Man, straight at Wu Hui.

A flintlock pistol fired at Zhao Xingluan, the magic-infused bullet struck, carving a wound in his thigh.

Landing, Zhao Xingluan’s bandages healed the injury, then he produced a slip of paper.

He lit it; it burned to ash. A majestic voice echoed through the factory: “Weapons are forbidden in this place.”

Wu Hui’s flying knives, flintlock, and various explosives all ceased to function. Zhao Xingluan’s bandages and Lightning Book were also disabled. From here, the two could only fight with their fists.

“Well, just what I wanted,” Wu Hui removed his glasses.

Little Joker, activated.

Big Joker, activated.

His strength and intellect soared beyond human limits. Though it only lasted five minutes, during those five minutes, Wu Hui’s power would surpass Zhao Xingluan’s.

To determine the winner, that was enough.

—

Waves of sonic energy fell through the air like blades.

With the death of many Wei warriors, Silver Mask’s fighting power had greatly diminished; his spear tip could not pierce the puppet’s sonic defenses.

The opponent’s music was pure mental assault, and the puppet had already been weakened—otherwise, at least one of them would have died amid these layers of sonic attacks.

But the Birdcatcher Spider’s blade and Wu Tong’s burning needle had already penetrated the sound waves.

Flames clung to the black blade, melting the sonic shield. The Hearth Goddess’s power enhanced her teammates’ vitality, strength, endurance, and spirit, and added fire damage to ordinary attacks.

These flames were especially destructive against dark abilities.

The puppet’s face still wore a smile.

But her condition was dire—she had just devoured several souls, barely recovering, and now faced another intense battle.

This battlefield would last at least half an hour, yet she seemed unlikely to endure that long.

Or rather, defeat might come at any moment.

The wasp’s needle pierced her body. Physical attacks mattered little to the puppet—at worst, she’d gain a few more patches.

But the flames at the needle’s tip brought her unbearable agony.

The guitar fell silent.

Silver Mask’s spear transformed into a broken arrow, pinning the puppet to the ground.

Miss Puppet let out a shrill scream, plucked out her own eyes, and from those deep sockets emanated a pull, capable of drawing in all souls.

Everyone felt a powerful force separating body from spirit. Wu Tong was worst off—her resistance in this regard was woefully inadequate. The other two managed to resist.

Silver Mask clenched his fist, and the broken arrow pinning the puppet radiated light, halting her rampage.

The Birdcatcher Spider swung his blade, severing the puppet’s exquisite head—the screams ceased instantly. The world fell silent.

Miss Puppet seemed to have died just like that.

“Burn her,” Silver Mask exhaled after the battle, clearly pleased with the outcome. Of course, capturing her alive would be better—it would allow interrogation about the other members of the Gothic Band.

But Miss Puppet was, after all, a Level Ten player, not so easily captured alive. If mercy were shown, it might be their own deaths.

Wu Tong set her head and body alight, reducing them to ashes.

The battlefield faded, and everyone appeared in the street. Thanks to Silver Mask’s purchase of system correction services, no one noticed them.

Rain began to fall; pedestrians walked with umbrellas, utterly unaware of the fierce battle that had just occurred nearby. A heap of ashes was swept into the sewer by the rainwater.

Two inconspicuous buttons lay scattered in the distance.

A little girl passed by, picking up the buttons at her parent’s urging, then hurried after her mother, plagued by the nagging voices.

In her pocket, the two buttons emitted an alluring aura.

Driven by some strange impulse, the girl placed both buttons over her eyes.

Invisible threads emerged, first sewing her mouth shut, and—unable to scream—then stitching her eyes to the buttons.

Minutes later, her mother noticed something was amiss—her daughter was unusually quiet.

She turned to look.

Only a pair of eyes, dark as buttons, stared back at her.