Beyond the imperial capital, a growing crowd gathered before the **Arena of Destiny**, a place where disputes were settled not by words, but by the clash of steel and the dance of qi. Among the onlookers were idle spectators and nobles alike, all drawn by the rare spectacle of a duel to the death between two heirs.

  Today marked Lorcan's showdown with Li Hao. While the arena routinely hosted duels, life-and-death confrontations were few and far between. This one, between two heirs of noble blood, drew crowds eager for drama and danger. Even the **Azure Gambling House**, the capital's most renowned den of fortune, had opened odds:

  - **Li Hao's victory**: 1 to 2.

  - **Lorcan's victory**: 1 to 10.

  The stakes were irresistible. With no room for foul play in a duel to the death, especially between two heirs, bets flooded in. Most favored Li Hao—after all, Lorcan's prior victory had been a fluke. Miracles didn’t repeat. Yet a few thrill-seekers backed Lorcan, though they were as rare as honesty in a fox.

  At the betting booth, a towering figure stepped forward. " Thirty thousand gold on Lorcan," he declared, slapping down a crystal card. The registrar gaped—until midday, he’d taken barely a tenth of that. The man was Shi Feng, Lorcan's ally, gambling every last coin on his friend's success.

  Lorcan had anticipated this. Knowing the Azure Gambling House would capitalize on the duel's drama, he’d shifted from direct wagers to side bets. Why split profits when he could multiply them? With help from Yu Fatty and others, he’d scraped together over twenty thousand gold, which Shi Feng, fueled by loyalty and adrenaline, had swollen to thirty thousand.

  Shi Feng’s family wasn’t wealthy. The Shi clan’s blunt nature and explosive tempers made commerce a foreign art. To gather the sum, Shi had pawned his weapons and armor—a gamble that left his heart pounding as he handed over the crystal card.

  As noon approached, Li Hao arrived, leaping onto the stage with a showman’s flair. The crowd cheered, though their applause was more for the impending spectacle than Li Hao’s agility. Dressed in sleek combat attire, Li Hao’s face twisted into a smirk. *Lorcan, the humiliation you dealt me will be repaid tenfold.*

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  But as Li Hao waited, there was no sign of Lorcan. Doubt rippled through the crowd—could he be a no-show? The arena’s elder, a stern man with a voice like gravel, announced, "Your duel is set for midday. You’ve come an hour early. Choose: wait on the stage or below."

  The crowd hissed. Li Hao, caught between pride and practicality, chose the stage. As the sun blazed down on the black stone platform, he sweated through his resolve. To maintain his dignified pose, he endured the searing heat—until wisps of smoke rose from his scorched posterior.

  From a distance, two veiled women observed the farce. "Foolish man," one remarked. "He suffers for nothing but pride." The other, her tone sharp, added, "Hypocrisy, plain and simple."

  " Sister Mengqi, how much longer will you delay the annulment of your betrothal?" one asked. Mengqi, her brows knitted in distress, replied, "To break it off now, while he’s at his lowest, would be cruel. I’m torn."

  "But this can’t go on! Our master has summoned us thrice. If we don’t return soon, we’ll face punishment. Besides, your destiny is to touch the heavens—his world and yours no longer intersect." The other sighed.

  Mengqi remained silent, her heart conflicted. As she hesitated, the crowd stirred. A figure in a black robe approached—Lorcan, his presence magnetic and self-assured. The women exchanged glances; this Lorcan was a far cry from the broken man they’d witnessed days prior.

  Li Hao, nursing his burning posterior, spotted Lorcan and snarled, "Lorcan, come to die." Ignoring Li Hao, Lorcan scanned the crowd, noting Shi Feng’s reassuring nod and Yu Fatty’s supportive presence. With a smile, he ascended the stage, not with Li Hao’s acrobatic leap, but with deliberate steps that spoke of confidence.

  The elder produced a scroll. "Sign the生死契约 (life-and-death contract)." Lorcan signed without hesitation. This time, there’d be no surrender. The victor held the power of life and death.

  Li Hao, his signature on the contract, sneered, "Today, I’ll repay every slight a hundredfold." The stage, now their private hell, needed no referee.

  "Words heal faster than wounds, but hatred lingers. You provoke me relentlessly—this is your doing," Lorcan said, his voice laced with lethal calm.

  "Die, cur!" Li Hao roared, his qi flaring. The crowd noted his precaution—a veil of spiritual energy guarded his body, a lesson learned from past humiliation.

  With a feral grin, Li Hao lunged, claws laced with qi, aiming for Lorcan’s shoulders. The attack promised bone-shattering agony. Below, Wang Mang, the man Lorcan had slapped toothless, cheered. His hatred for Lorcan burned as brightly as the sun.

  But Lorcan stood unmoved. As Li Hao closed in, a cold smile played on his lips. With a step that seemed to defy space itself, he met Li Hao head-on.

  **THUD.**