A Deceitful Fight

A fight with death as the only possible ending had begun.

Both fighters had already unsheathed the weapons tightened to their waistbands in their approach.

Considering their brutish dispositions, it might have seemed like they would clobber each other to death bare-fisted for a moment, but Joey and Celas both brandished sharp iron swords.

Fighting bare-handed was too risky at their level of Cultivation.

A loud burst of sound echoed through the dilapidated buildings when their edges met.

It was the first measure of strength.

Noticing nothing too strange about the combat strength of the enemy, they tested the waters further and delivered slashes, strikes and swings which were either parried or deflected easily every time.

Although the tension was incomparably high, no one went all out immediately and instead, the two adopted a careful approach.

Both, force and frequency of each swing increased rapidly with each passing second of the altercation, and every move brought about terrible ringing sounds with fierce sparks flying from the swords.

Celas was eerily calm, even though he was pained by every maneuver his feet had to initiate. One would suspect he would furiously stab his opponent with frantic screams but that assumption was a terrible misinterpretation.

A pair of cold, calculated eyes searched for openings in Joey's stance endlessly.

Joey compensated the lack of technique and training with an amalgation of his new-found strength and instinctual reactions. He tried to reign in all the spite he had for the Mad Dog, as such intense emotions could very easily influence the scale of the battle.

Of course he wouldn't use the entirety of his force yet, but he felt himself in need of heavier and more powerful strikes with every second that passed.

Celas dodged another deadly swing aimed at his right shoulder with minimal movement, twisting his torso just in time to let the iron sword only graze his skin. He used the momentum of the turn to complete a turnaround, and slashed his weapon from beneath in an upwards trajectory with as much force as inertia allowed.

His feet cried in agony, but he grinded his teeth and put the entirety of his weight into a gruesome swing.

Joey widened his eyes in horror as he tried to take a step back, but sadly... he couldn't manage to dodge the entirety of the slash.

Celas' glistening sword bit into his upper chest and exited on the left shoulder, leaving behind a gashing wound that was splurting out blood crazily like a broken syphon.

But instead of following the normal, intial instinct to jump back, Joey immediately lunged forward and bombarded Celas with a barrage of attacks.

Despite being wounded, his attacks seemed to turn more fierceful than before.

Small cuts appeared on the Mad Dog's body as it became more and more apparent just how restricted his movement really was.

Joey's iris gleamed in terrible light when he pressed on and began to swing.

Every swing began to harbor absolute strength, utterly disparate to his earlier performance.

"You!"

Celas finally screamed out, noticing something was amiss.

The seemingly perpetual barrage of attacks left the realm of what an average Peak Body Foundation could produce.

Celas noticed immediately. He was aware what Peak performance of Body Foundation looked like, and this... it was too exaggerated.

"You've reached the Qi Realm, haven't you!" he concluded with grim apprehension written on his face.

Joey's face twisted into a frenzied smile as his slashes started to radiate what could only be called pure bloodlust.

He mocked him straight to the face.

"Heh So what! You're getting scared?"

Joey's bloodshot eyes ripped open, terror churning deep within.

"STOP FUCKING WITH ME! AFTER EVERYTHING YOU DARED TO SAY!"

Celas condition worsened horribly and fast, but he tried hide that fact behind merciless combinations of swings.

He spat out cold words with pearls of sweat dropping down from his chin.

"Just an insignificant Qi Realm. What is there to be scared of? I can sense that it hasn't been long since your breakthrough... Was it just this week? Or was it in the last couple days."

"Or wait... No way" a grim snicker left his lips, "There is no way... Was it today?"

Lampooned the Qi realm confidently, Celas put on an unaffected bearing.

But not taking a single step from his spot and avoiding to move altogether was naturally noticed by Spark, who followed the fight attentively.

He exclaimed loudly, "He can't move Joey, his feet are rendered useless!"

...Of course Joey knew this fact right from the start, but these words were meant to be heard by the gangster boss.

It was a simple tactic of arousing his anger and therefore resulting in his attacks being more predictable.

It fell onto deaf ears. Celas was cold, nonchalant and calculating.

Sparks flew through the air and the ground beneath the fighters turned bloody as their figures became mangled and lacerated.

Attacks, powered by Qi, clashed with each other in undulating waves, birthing scratching, unrealistic echoes.

And luckily for Joey, his attacks were infused with much more Mana than Celas could ever hope to produce.

The tables have turned, and the only fact that shielded the Mad Dog from a quick and cruel death, was the array of combat experience he had gained throughout countless brawls and altercations.

Angling his sword skillfully, he deflected the harrowing swings of Joey by a hair's width.

Really... his head was meant to be lopped off a couple times already during Joey's heartless barrage, but he somehow managed to agilely twist his joints and vital body parts at the crucial time with impeccable accuracy, while mimizing any movements of his feet.

It was fair to say that Celas' state definitely worsened a lot faster than Joey's. The puddle of blood beneath his feet grew to an alarming size with countless gashes spattering out more of the scarlet liquid.

His movements grew dull and languid, finding more and more difficulty in parrying or dodging any incoming strikes.

Joey's fervor didn't let up. Now that he didn't need to hide his strength, he went all out, leaving his enemy no room to breathe.

...And shortly after, the long-awaited moment had finally come.

Noticing Celas buckling movement when he put weight onto his right foot, Joey seized the opportunity and feigned a downward slash.

When Celas prepared to deflect it... he subtly changed its trajectory, hitting the sword out of Celas' bloodied hands.

As it made a long arc in the air, Joey's eyes brimmed with unbridled vigor. He was ready to end the fight with the next attack.

A deafening battlecry escaped his throat as he gripped the hilt of his sword with neck-breaking force and swung it back for momentum. A blue membrane engulfed his sword, increasing its lethality a dozen times over and a split second after, he swiftly brought it down, aiming for the Mad Dog's neck.

It was then, when he suddenly noticed an almost indiscernible change in Celas' demeanour.

He hadn't cared for his opponents expression at all throughout the whole fight, and just swung away in blind spite.

But... some feral instinct deep inside him alarmed him with a cold shudder, telling him something was terribly wrong.

He caught a glimpse of the strange change.

A cold glint of calculation shimmered deep inside the Mad Dog's eyes.

...But it was too late to consider at that point.

His sword was forcing itself heavily through the air, seemingly severing all the molecules in its path with a force he couldn't fight against anymore.

The inertia was already unstoppable... so he decided instead, to replace any worries with utmost confidence and gripped his entire weight into the downward slash.

In a matter of split seconds, the wicked expression resembling the smiling mask of a devil reappeared on the bloodthirsty Celas. He suddenly raised his left knee and stomped it on the ground with careless force to propel himself to Joey's right side.

It shouldn't have been possible at all with the state his mangled feet were in!

He hadn't moved at all in the last minutes. Was the weakness of his feet just a deceitful act?

Judging by the scarlet red puddle beneath them... that could hardly be the case!

What unbearable pain did he trade for, to be able to save his life just in time?

But surprisingly, instead of even the slightest hint of a pained whimper or heart-wrenching groan, a frighteningly cold smirk sat on his lips, radiating utterly devious intention.

His hand moved to his waist in thunderlike quickness and produced a short, shiny dagger from beneath his clothing.

Its hilt was golden, inscribed with graceful lines and the blade curved along the edge, looking like it could barb itself into Joey's flesh with a deadly grip.

A Southern-Style Jambiya.

Celas swung it in the fastest possible way, finding the shortest arch toward his prey and... and he stabbed.

Warm blood trickled down from Joey's stomach, a painful groan escaping his lips.

Then a pair of incredulous eyes gazed upon the bloody gash.

"You... This can't be... possible."

It was Celas uttered in pure disbelief.

Immediately, he felt the temperature rise immensely in the fraction of a second.

"Y-You should have only broken through recently, so why...?"

Joey silently lifted his hand and the sharp blade of the short dagger stuck tightly in his grasp, cutting deep incisions along his fingers, almost severing them entirely.

Scarlet blood trickled down his fingers before it combusted into thick black smoke.

His bloody gashes miraculously coagulated as a deep red membrane ran over his body.

The red membrane contracted before exploding into hungry flames which apathetically devoured Joey as a whole. A fierce smile flickered through the flames as he spat out in a flush of anger.

"You scheming little bastard... You almost got me there."

With his figure wreathed in undulating scarlet flames, burning flauntingly around him like elemental spirits, Joey looked like an Ancient Sun God meting out divine punishment.

Spark gulped with widened eyes. Celas' gulp stuck in his throat.

He was gripped by a primal fear. An invisible hand was grabbing him by the throat, not leaving him any room to breathe.

It was only a fraction of a second later, that an irrational calm descended back upon him, helping him to assess the situation rationally.

It was a sudden increase in temperature that made the air harder to breathe and the man in front of him was not a reincarnation of any Sun God.

It was only a meagre First-Stage Qi Realm Cultivator who miraculously managed to invoke an elemental change onto his Mana, shortly after breaking through.

But truth be told, even knowing this fact didn't help him at all.

The chance of winning this fight was practically zero now that Joey was engulfed in frightening flames.

As these thoughts raced around his mind in unthinkable speed, Joey's fiery fist came down on him like a force of nature.

His flaming fist aimed to maim Celas head and turn it into a charred and marred mess, but the experienced combatant relied on wolfish instinct to barely dodge the incoming calamity.

Instead of squashing his head, the immolating fist curled the ends of his hair and flew horizontally above the scar next to his eye to hit his shoulder.

After a disgusting crackling sound of the scapula, which shattered upon impact, a scorching sizzle burned away at the skin and flesh above.

With so much painful stimuli, even the cool-headed Celas couldn't contain himself and gritted his teeth with a low groan.

His right shoulder was absolutely done for.

The stench of burnt flesh rose up and another pained cry accompanied it when Celas jumped to the side and held his morbidly deformed shoulder with his left hand.

To his dismay, Joey was on a rampage. He lost himself in wrath and the ecstasy of invoking his Element and shot another lethal punch to Celas' hull with a bestial scream.

Obeying the rage, anger and frenzy of his heart his Qi started to boil dangerously and the flame mantle around him licked at the surrounding air in a murderous rapture.

"Another one!"

Joey roared as he put all his strength into an horizontal swing with so much force you would think it could vaporate Celas entire being just with a graze.

Joey strained his hands, put his body under uncomparable tension, and executed a seemingly perfect strike.

It was to end it once and for all.

He had realized by now just how much of a veteran his opponent was, so he would give the seasoned fighter no more chances.

And crazily enough, even this strike was dodged.

Driven by massive amounts of adreline and the stubborn will to survive, Celas strained his front foot explosively, putting his entire weight onto it, completely disregarding the wretched condition it was in.

He only dared to do so, because if he didn't, his innards would be turned into bloody burnt mush by the incoming swing.

His body folded down in record speed, dodging the strike by a hairs width and burning the ends of his long black hair.

Dodging was his primary, but not his only objective. The only path to survival in this practically hopeless situation was to...

GRAB THE KID!

Celas' face distorted with pain as he lunged forward in gargantuan strides. Like a feral cheetah he used the momentum on his front foot to dart toward Spark, slipping right by Joey who was still recovering from the momentum of his swing.

And there he stood, motionless. The young man was rooted to the ground and was as tranquil as a lake, as calm as a mountain.

He recovered from his initial shock of seeing Joey combust into radiant flames and prepared himself mentally for the incoming attempt of the frightul bandit. He knew Celas would eventually try to get to him. It was inevitable.

Why, you ask?

That... It was of course because... Because he stood there?

Who wouldn't try to grasp at that last straw, the last hope to get away.

"I figured you'd go for me," he said calmly. A serious scowl was forming on his lips.

"It's far too obvious. Why exactly... Why exactly do you think I'm standing here? It's no use Celas..."

Spark's face showed traces of pity and disdain when he shook his head, but inwardly his soul shivered terribly.

'Joey... come quickly!! QUICKLY!'

Contradicting his thoughts, tranquil words left his lips, tinged with a truly patronizing tone.

"...I am no golden thread. You can't pull yourself up this time."

Celas couldn't hear the young man's words, as he gapped the remaining distance like a three-legged beast, using his functioning hand to find enough strength to remain at top speeds...

Suddenly he jolted awake. His blood turned a couple degrees colder, altough the rays of heat he felt grazing his back warmed him up very quickly.

The young boy in front kept on with his monologue, unbothered by the tragic situation.

"...I told you before, that, malevolence leaves no room for a chance at a peaceful life. You went beyond ambition and greed, and therefore... therefore your death will be gruesome and cruel, for fate has decided it."

He felt like he was being choked by an invisible noose. At this point, Spark was only a couple of meters away, but he couldn't reach him as the words echoed through him in slow-motion.

Something had cracked inside him earlier when he read what was written in the replica of the Circulation Arts.

Deep resentment piled up inside him when he saw them the first time.

Greed and ambition kills a peaceful life?

Malevolence leaves you no chance for it?

He felt a strong aversion to their meaning, for he had always felt that life was unfair.

It's not that he was neccessarily disagreeing with the words themselves, but... they were tainted by such deep ignorance and privilege, that it made him feel nauseous.

From where he came from, deep within the Fervent Sand Plains... HE HAD NO SUCH PRIVILEGE!

It was KILL or BE KILLED.

He had no other resort, but to adopt violence and malevolence to survive. This cruel world had not permitted him otherwise. But hearing them for the second time... he had unfamiliar confessions making their way to the front of his mind.

Sadly, they were destined to be buried in a perpetual nothingness.

He felt death blowing cold air at him, looming over him like an ancient, dark shadow.

But turning around, there was no dark shadow waiting for him there.

"Rest in Peace, may you be a better person in your next life," Spark bowed lightly and looked at Celas for the last time.

...Behind his back, Celas, the frightening Mad Dog as they called him, saw an incandescent sun following him like a vengeful ghost.

It hovered at arm's length, scorching his body purely by association.

His eyes widened for a last time as he followed the fiery fist ramming straight into his temple.

BOOOM

With no time to react, the fist connected and a loud, unsettling cracking noise echoed through the deserted edge of the slums.

Celas head caved in brutally and bloody flames wreathed around his body, threatening to eat him up until only dusty ashes were left behind.

They did not stop biting into his wrecked body until only there was more of him on fire than not.

Despite all of this, not a single sound left his mouth.

Such pains couldn't be just ignored.

Meaning... Celas had died on impact of the strike.

Gasps could be heard all around the scene. The gang member had already found Joey and Spark long ago, but after seeing that Joey was a Peak Level Being and suffering a crushing defeat due to this blunder, they had no choice but to quietly follow the two and see how everything turned out.

Realizing that Joey was in fact in the Qi realm, made their backs accumulate sweat.

They were taken aback!

Celas was a tyrant who had the Outskirt underground scene tightly in his clutches.

He hasn't lost a fight in years and his terrible reputation garnered fear and hatred.

And now he was dead. The fearsome tyrant was dead! Some of the gangsters were excited, some were angry and others just stood silently in a daze. The only thing everyone shared was the thought of what would happen to them now.

Loyalty was just a word without meaning in Celas gang, and that became very apparent by the lack of involvement in the fight.

Milo and Bilo, too, stood glued to their spot, their faces dressed in dark shadows.

"He is dead? So easily?" the siblings gasped. They were utterly shocked, and unbelievably relieved at the same time.

They have never seen their boss, Celas, the almighty, rabid Mad Dog lose a fight before, ever!

And now that he lost for the first time, he just died?

Milo sighed deeply when he cast his gaze on the burning corpse, "We can finally be at ease for a while."

"You're right Milo," Bilo said with a docile smile.

He added his disbelief about the situation, "But to think the Cultivator the kid came with was a genuine Qi Realm."

Milo nodded and ventured with a pensive expression, "Does this kid have any backing?"

* * *

"Well done Joey," Spark wanted to grab him by the shoulder to give him a friendly clap, but seeing some residual flames dancing on top of Joey's fervid skin, he decided against it.

Still, he couldn't restrain a big fat grin from smiling at the victorious bartender.

"With your help, we averted great danger for the slums. It was about time to disband this corrupt organization."

Joey interrupted him when he wanted to say more.

"No, No, No... Honestly, I need to thank you. I'm truly grateful for what you have done for me. For providing me with this opportunity."

"First the Spirit Crystals, then the Cultivation Arts... You came at a time in my life where I had almost given up on this dream of mine. I was only capable of pretentious boasts and fruitless promises, but you ignited this flame of passion in me again."

The flames on his body now extinguished, left him in tattered and charred clothing. All cuts and slashes on his body were immolated by hungry flames, still squirming around, but he did not pay them any mind.

He turned towards Spark and grabbed him by the shoulders. His reddish brown pupils coruscated faintly when he looked him directly in the eyes.

"You know Spark... I really can't see you as an ordinary kid. Your ideas and strategies fascinate me"

"If I hadn't awakened by Element at that moment, then even the gap of the Body Foundation Realm and the Qi realm may have proved futile in this fight."

"If you hadn't injured his feet beforehand, I wouldn't come out of this fight with just cuts and bruises..."

"...Also, he could have have escaped with the Cultivation Arts, hadn't you replaced it with a replica. It was a perfect strategy! You know, just by today's fight I know we make a superb team."

Spark shook his head and gave Joey a clap on the back.

"Come on... It's common sense to push the odds a bit, isn't it? I'm glad it all worked out as planned in the end. Thank yourself for the opportunity, Joey! After all, it was you who helped me first."

Spark then scratched his cheek and admitted, "And honestly, after witnessing this crazy fight I feel like I can't take any of the credit at all."

"That's not ... Huh?"

Just when Joey wanted to deny the claim of the youngster next to him he stared at the air in bafflement.

"What is it?"

Joey's eye widened in shock and his mouth was agape. He kept quiet, as a wondrous sight unfurled in front of his eyes.

A couple of dark blocks shimmered menacingly in the air. They were visible only to Joey and naturally, they felt very familiar to him.

...That's because they were written in human language and depicted a phrase that Joey had longed to see his entire life.

[You have slain a Peak Stage Body Foundation Realm Cultivator]

[You received one of his Inherent Skills]