The situation on the stage could only be described as utterly brutal. Both sides had reached the point of burning out their last drop of fuel—one lay on the ground covered in wounds, coughing up blood nonstop, while the other had lost his right hand and both legs, completely unable to stand.

Di Xin's current advantage lay in distance. Neither of them could move, but he could still use his gun ability to launch ranged attacks at Ning Quanchen. Face smeared with blood, the hand he used to raise the gun was trembling as he lined up the shot, poured his last trace of source energy into the pistol, and pulled the trigger.

Bang! A crisp gunshot rang out amid the crowd's anticipation.

Boom! Di Xin's body was lifted into the air by the explosive shockwave, while Ning Quanchen, who had just raised his arm, curled his lips in a smug smile and then blacked out on the spot.

Staring at the two unconscious figures on the stage and recalling the stunning exchange just now, Pei Yan let out a long breath and sighed, "Ning Quanchen's timing was perfect. At the most dangerous moment, he rallied all his source energy and raised a tiny shard of the Divine Artifact Mirror right in front of himself. It was that shard that bounced back the bullet Di Xin fired, using the opponent's own ability to deliver him the most lethal blow."

"Uh~ so with things like this… who counts as the winner?" Zheng Jia Ru knocked on the still-active defensive Array around the arena, glanced at the two immobilized contestants, and asked in confusion.

Zheng Jia Ru's confusion was also a headache for the event organizers. The defensive Array over the stage still hadn't been lifted, and the seats of the Daoist Plane's leadership outside were already in an uproar. Seeing this, Gu Shenghui shot a look at Mei Simiao beside him. She nodded to show she understood, and rose to head toward the VIP stand.

A moment later Mei Simiao returned with the update. Facing the people crowding around to ask, she smiled lightly and said, "Both sides are arguing. The Daoist Realm insists the win is theirs because Ning Quanchen launched the final counterattack that crushed Di Xin. The Blood Shura side objects, saying Di Xin was still conscious before he hit the ground, whereas Ning Quanchen had already fallen unconscious the moment he finished using his rebound technique. From that angle, it should be a victory for the Blood Shura side."

"So what's the result?" Pei Yan asked.

"They're still arguing. My guess is they'll end this match as a draw." Mei Simiao shrugged helplessly.

"A draw?" everyone exclaimed in unison. Right then, the defensive barrier around the arena faded, and the Immortal Palace host stepped onto the stage to announce the result, confirming Mei Simiao's prediction: this round was a tie.

As soon as the first match of the individual competition, which ended in a draw, was over, the two contestants' bodies were instantly restored. Even so, they were both still quite weakened. Each of them walked down from the stage with the support of their teammates, and from the way their gazes clashed in passing—eyes full of indignant refusal—it was clear they were both very unhappy with such a lukewarm conclusion.

The private grudge between them was their own business, but the tournament still had to go on. After a brief reset, the arena returned to its pristine state. The remaining two teams once again took their places on the stage, ready for the next round of battle.

This time, the Blood Shura side again sent out a fighter first. Stepping forward was Ivan, one of the Three Tyrants. He took his position at the center of the arena and issued his challenge toward the Daoist Realm.

"I'm the contestant for the second match. Send someone to fight me. Or you can come up and pick your own opponent—we're fine either way."

"In the second match, your opponent is me." Lin Xunrou stepped out of her team to accept the fight.

Seeing that the other side had sent a woman, Ivan frowned, clearly not thrilled with this matchup. But he'd already spoken, so he could only accept it. He suppressed his irritation and stepped into the glowing ring that represented an active contestant.

Once both fighters stood inside the circle, the defensive Array of the arena activated. The second match officially began. Ivan walked out of the circle, casually summoning a staff out of thin air. He gripped one end with both hands and stood it upright on the floor, then sneered at Lin Xunrou, who was also stepping out of the circle opposite him. "If I remember right, your name is Lin Xunrou, yeah? Tch, there are only two female contestants among all the teams, and yet you had to run into me. Before we start, I should clarify something: I'm not like Pei Yan—that guy who loves picking on weaklings and is unbelievably vicious to women."

At those words, Pei Yan's eyebrow twitched down below the stage. It was an obvious jab at how he treated Moira—Little Vlad—in that earlier match. Pei Yan responded to this kind of provocation with nothing more than a cold sneer.

Having said that, Ivan's tone suddenly shifted into a cruel grin. "I'm vicious to everyone. I won't go easy just because my enemy's a woman. So I sincerely advise you to think carefully about whether you really want to fight me. The whole process is going to hurt. A lot."

"Don't bother trying to scare me with that. Anyone who's made it here is a Child of Origin. If a couple of sentences are enough to scare you into quitting, you don't deserve to stand here," Lin Xunrou said, placing her hand at her waist before giving a sharp tug. A whip appeared in her palm. With a light flick of her arm, the tip of the whip sliced through the air with a crisp crack.

"Since you're so determined, I've got nothing more to say. Let's begin." The moment Ivan's words fell, his right hand snatched up the staff and held it high toward the sky. As the tip of the staff arced down to point at Lin Xunrou, a thick bolt of lightning appeared out of nowhere, ripping through the air above the stage and crashing straight down.

Crack! Lin Xunrou swung her whip, letting it whirl once above her head. When the lightning struck and made contact with the whip, it was instantly absorbed into it. Then, with the motion of Lin Xunrou's arm, the whip lashed out, and the lightning she had just absorbed shot back out from the tip, firing straight toward Ivan.

Ivan didn't move, choosing not to dodge. He casually tossed the staff; it spun on its own in front of him, and the lightning that had shot toward him was immediately sucked back into the staff. Using the descending staff as leverage, Ivan tilted his head at Lin Xunrou and mocked, "So you're like that last guy—only know how to fight by countering your enemy's moves? If that's really all you've got, this battle's going to be boring as hell."

"I don't need you to teach me how to fight." As Lin Xunrou spoke, she flicked her whip at empty air.

Given the distance between them and the length of her whip, this strike should never have reached Ivan's body. Yet the moment the crack sounded, a long gash opened across Ivan's cheek, and half his face swelled up red and puffy.

Blood flowed along the cut, down his cheek, drip by drip onto the stage. Ivan showed no anger at his injury; in fact, an excited, manic look spread across his face. He didn't wipe away the blood as anyone else would. Instead, he opened his mouth and extended a bizarrely long tongue, like a snake flicking its forked tip. Under Lin Xunrou's disgusted gaze, the tongue slowly licked the blood from his face. As he drew the tongue back in, the wound on his face closed up. The faint taste of blood spread through his mouth, and the man started to grow increasingly high.

"Now I'm starting to look forward to this match."