This time, Sky Qi let out a long sigh of relief. Thankfully, he hadn’t been spotted. If they’d discovered him early, how could he possibly farm kills like this?
His entire strategy relied on sneaking in late to scavenge the aftermath. Only this blind spot—hidden from the crystal ball’s gaze—let him lurk in the shadows, watching the spectacle unfold.
Christie swept her gaze around, puzzled. No suspicious figures stood out. Every fighter was fully committed to the brawl.
Even the two A-rank experts had clashed. The battlefield, once crowded with over two hundred, now held barely one hundred fifty.
The numbers were still high. Sky Qi calculated his entry timing while his Sea of Magic quietly brewed the next spell.
Adolf’s eyes remained locked on him.
*This girl is unnervingly calm.* After rescuing those two boys, she hadn’t dropped her invisibility spell—she’d only hidden deeper.
The crowd dwindled to roughly a hundred. Most fighters were exhausted. C-rank combatants had been wiped out; only C+-rank and above still stood.
Many fell instantly when their magic reserves emptied. What began as scattered skirmishes had exploded into total chaos. Shockwaves buffeted Sky Qi’s face, forcing him to raise a hand in defense.
Everyone was locked in combat. Even those who’d avoided fighting now had opponents—except Sky Qi, still untouched in his corner.
The brawl tightened toward the center. Fighters instinctively crowded inward to maximize targets. Anyone trying to flee to the edges got blasted by wild magic barrages, their shields shattering instantly.
*Perfect.* Sky Qi smirked. He patted his scarf, rose lazily from the ground, and stretched with a theatrical yawn. Then he strode toward the chaos.
**WindStride!**
**Shadowveil: Second Phase!**
His body became wind. Each step left a lingering afterimage. Thanks to Shadowveil, the frenzied crowd remained oblivious to his presence.
His Sea of Magic had already forged sword energy. Instantly, a sword array materialized around the battlefield’s edge.
Real magic blades—crafted by Sky Qi—floated in a ring around the fighters. Swords of every shape and size hummed as they collided, weaving a symphony of steel.
Their flashing edges radiated suffocating killing intent.
“What the hell is this?” Some fighters broke from the brawl, staring at the hovering swords.
A girl reached out to touch one—only to be thrown back by a violent surge of Sword Intent. Her shield nearly cracked.
Adolf’s jaw dropped. *This technique… could it be?*
Few in the world had witnessed this move. Fewer than a hundred knew of it—only the continent’s apex experts.
To see it was a once-in-a-lifetime honor. Only one person had ever mastered it. Only one had created it.
That person’s name was Sky Qi.
*Why would a girl wield his signature art?* Adolf’s mind reeled. Yet his eyes never left the array. *Impossible to mistake.*
Metal magic forging elemental blades on the fly. Telekinesis weaving them into a lethal ring.
Sky Qi’s next move confirmed it—and sent ice through Adolf’s veins.
Light as a feather, Sky Qi landed on a floating sword. He coiled his legs and kicked off. One blade tore free, arcing in a deadly curve. Two shields popped like bubbles.
The sword dissolved to dust after the strike. Sky Qi rebounded onto another blade, kicked again, and ripped a second sword free.
He danced through the array, plucking swords like petals. His movements were butterfly-graceful, utterly untouchable.
Speed compounded with every leap. Momentum stacked with every slash.
He never truly swung—just let the blade graze opponents as he propelled himself onward. A whisper of steel, and shields shattered.
No one could react. A shadow flickered past; shields burst; bodies flew out of the arena, dragged by invisible force.
Adolf froze, eyes wide. *No doubt. Absolutely no doubt.* This was Sky Qi’s exclusive art: **Chaotic Sword Array Massacre!**
Velocity built on velocity. Force layered on force. An unstoppable storm of blades. He glided between swords, kicking off one to soar to the next—
Like an elegant dance. A dance of despair. Shields exploded across the crowd. Fighters vanished from the battlefield.
*What… is happening?* Adolf rubbed his eyes hard, pinched his cheek. *Is this a hallucination?*
*How could anyone else know this technique?* Then he remembered the face glimpsed in that shadowed corner earlier.
Adolf’s body went rigid. He snapped his eyes shut, snatched a pen from his holder.
**Magic Sketch: Activate!**
The pen flew across paper. In the silent office, only the *shhk-shhk* of nib on parchment filled the air.
Ten seconds later, a flawless face stared back from the page.
Adolf held it under the magic lamp, scrutinizing every line. His eyes suddenly blazed. *This face…*
It mirrored that boy’s features—but softened, feminized. Without this sketch, he’d never have noticed.
Adolf stared at the paper, then at the dancing figure still weaving death in the arena.
*To witness this lethal dance again…* His chest tightened with emotion.
*Xu Yueyin? Sky Qi?* He’d never heard of siblings. And no one would teach this art to family—it demanded a body forged in hellfire.
Only one explanation remained. Adolf’s voice cracked, raw with disbelief:
“Fuck me… is that kid cross-dressing to get in here?!”
