Chapter 143: Avenging Humiliation (Part 1)


    Deep within the hidden underground palace of the Beast Forest.


    A tall figure was fleeing in disarray, pursued by over a dozen translucent, pale-white shadows.


    This figure was none other than Han Ming''s second brother, Li Chengfeng.


    "Ugh! These things are so persistent. The legacy of the War God requires passing through eight trials to reach, and now I can''t even make it to the two-year promise with my third brother."


    Ahead, a massive earthen wall blocked his path.


    Gritting his teeth, Li Chengfeng focused his fists, gathering intense mini-cyclones, and slammed them into the wall.


    In response, the wall erupted with a burst of white light, repelling his fists.


    Upon closer inspection, the wall was adorned with intricate carvings in bas-relief, exuding an ancient and elusive aura. The patterns were faintly glowing, their light gradually fading.


    "So, I can''t proceed to the next level without eliminating these white ghosts," Li Chengfeng muttered to himself.


    As the white ghosts closed in, Li Chengfeng cursed under his breath, unleashing a surge of wind-based combat energy.


    "Come on, you scum! I''ll take you all on—"


    Suddenly, he froze.


    A sharp pain surged from the depths of his heart.


    This pain was different from physical injury—it was a deep, emotional ache, as if someone had stabbed his heart.


    "What''s happening? What''s wrong?" Tears streamed down Li Chengfeng''s face unconsciously.


    "Who? Who has died? Could it be Father?"


    The bond of blood allowed Li Chengfeng to keenly sense a profound unease.


    The white ghosts drew nearer, but Li Chengfeng stood motionless, oblivious to the deadly spirits closing in.


    Meanwhile, in the capital of the Monte Empire, Fila City, the top 16 matches of the tournament were proceeding as scheduled.


    "What''s wrong?" Kulo asked, placing a piece of meat into Han Ming''s bowl. He noticed Han Ming''s distracted expression and grew concerned.


    Han Ming shook his head, his face filled with worry. "I don''t know. For the past few days, I''ve felt a sense of unease."


    "It''s probably just stress. Get some rest, and you''ll feel better. You have a match the day after tomorrow."


    "Mm," Han Ming nodded softly, but a shadow seemed to loom over him, refusing to dissipate.


    "Lord Miron, reports indicate that all cities within the Monte Empire are safe and secure, with no signs of disturbance," a petite and agile girl reported with a slight bow.


    Miron sighed deeply. "That''s good. Lately, I''ve felt like something big is about to happen. It shouldn''t be related to the demon army, though. They''ve only gathered less than 200,000 troops, so it''s unlikely they''d act so rashly."


    Thinking about the tense relations with the Magic Guild, Miron sighed again. Recently, all his efforts had been focused on dealing with the guild, leaving him no time to assist Queen Vivian in managing state affairs.


    Maintaining good relations with the Magic Guild was crucial. Those mages were known for their unpredictability and could turn hostile at any moment.


    If it weren''t for the fact that they were dealing with the Monte Empire''s royal palace, they might have already launched an attack.


    Miron vividly remembered how a medium-sized nation on the Huangtian Continent had provoked the Magic Guild. In response, the guild summoned magical armies from various branches, and over a dozen magical warships descended upon the nation''s airspace. Countless magical spells rained down like a meteor shower.


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    Within a month, the nation was left in ruins, nearly annihilated.


    Two days later, at the Tri-Nation Tournament arena.


    "Please welcome, from the Monte Empire, Han Ming, and also from the Monte Empire, Huang Ying!"


    "Haha, kid, I didn''t expect you to make it this far. Congratulations," Huang Ying said with his usual carefree, playboy demeanor.


    Han Ming smiled faintly. "I owe it to your ''generosity.'' Now, it''s time to settle things. By the way, do you remember our bet? If you lose, you kneel and apologize!"


    Huang Ying burst into laughter, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.


    "Are both contestants ready?"


    "Let the match begin!"


    "Come on, kid. You''re good at physical attacks, right? I''ll let you make the first move," Huang Ying taunted, mocking Han Ming''s reliance on physical combat in recent matches.


    For a mage, magical talent was paramount. To abandon one''s magical abilities and resort to physical attacks like a warrior was considered a disgrace. Huang Ying''s disdain for Han Ming only grew because of this.


    "As you wish!" Han Ming replied coldly, dashing forward with a punch that tore through the air.


    Huang Ying spat disdainfully, clapping his hands together to summon a massive wind wheel, similar to the one Shang Que had used before.


    The wind wheel, composed of countless tiny blades, spun violently, sucking in the surrounding air and causing the arena floor to tremble.


    Han Ming knew better than to confront the wind wheel head-on. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the wheel''s edge, which shredded one of his sleeves into dust.


    "Turn!" Huang Ying''s hands shifted rapidly, and the wind wheel changed direction, forcing Han Ming to retreat to the edge of the arena.


    The wind wheel rolled forward, carving a deep groove into the specially reinforced stone floor, sending shards of rock flying in all directions.


    "Huang Ying is indeed skilled. In terms of magical prowess, he far surpasses the fifth-tier fire mage that Gamori faced earlier. Both are fifth-tier, but the difference in strength is staggering," Han Ming thought to himself.


    He realized that Huang Ying had likely studied his previous matches and knew of his physical strength. To avoid a direct confrontation, Huang Ying had immediately unleashed this powerful wind wheel, keeping Han Ming at bay.


    The wind wheel blocked all of Han Ming''s escape routes.


    With no other choice, Han Ming drew a massive battle axe, planting it firmly in front of him to block the wind wheel''s advance.


    The collision between the wind wheel and the axe produced a deafening screech.


    Some spectators in the audience covered their ears in pain, while others, slower to react, had blood trickling from their ears.


    Han Ming''s feet dug into the ground as he gritted his teeth, resisting the wind wheel''s force. The impact strained his arms, his veins bulging as if they might burst.


    "This is the terror of mages. Han''s physical strength surpasses mine, yet a mage, whose physical capabilities are at best equivalent to a second-tier warrior, can use magic to push someone as strong as Han to such a desperate state. It''s just unfair," Quirk lamented to his companions.


    His companions, who rarely had the chance to witness such high-level battles, watched intently, their eyes filled with admiration.


    "Ha!" Han Ming roared, using all his strength to tilt the axe, redirecting the wind wheel''s force. The impact sent him flying backward.


    Mid-air, Han Ming adjusted his trajectory with three quick steps, then swung the massive axe toward Huang Ying.


    Huang Ying was momentarily stunned. He hadn''t expected Han Ming to take such a risk. If Han Ming''s timing had been even slightly off, the wind wheel could have sliced him in two.


    But there was no time to dwell on it. Seeing Han Ming break free, Huang Ying quickly retreated, summoning small whirlwinds around his legs to lift himself slightly off the ground, narrowly dodging the axe.


    The massive axe struck the arena floor, cleaving off a tenth of the edge and sending it crashing down.


    "You want to compare speed? Fine! Let''s see how fast you are, wind mage!" Han Ming sneered, stowing the axe and drawing a small dagger from his storage pouch.


    With a powerful leap, he shot forward like a cannonball, leaving two deep craters in the ground.


    Huang Ying spread his hands, fingers flicking rapidly as dozens of miniature wind blades shot toward Han Ming.


    Han Ming''s eyes narrowed as he calmly assessed the trajectory of the blades, dodging through them like a leaf in the wind. In an instant, he closed the distance to Huang Ying.


    The cold edge of the dagger pressed against Huang Ying''s neck.


    "You lose," Han Ming said coldly, devoid of emotion.


    Huang Ying panted heavily, refusing to concede. "You''re a mage! Yet you fight like a warrior! Don''t you feel any shame?"


    Han Ming chuckled. "So, you''re not convinced?"


    "Get off the stage!"


    "Leave!"


    "Stop making excuses! You lost, just admit it!"


    "Are you even a man?"


    The audience erupted in jeers.


    Huang Ying knew he was in the wrong, but his anger only grew. Two years ago, he could have crushed Han Ming like an ant. Now, he had been defeated by this "trash." The psychological落差 was unbearable, fueling his rage. He wanted to tear Han Ming to pieces.


    "If you can beat me with magic, I''ll admit defeat! Do you dare? If not, then get lost!"


    Han Ming smiled, his eyes icy. "You''re delusional. You lost, yet you still act so entitled. You think you''re superior, that you''re part of the elite, always playing the role of the strong oppressing the weak. How does it feel to be defeated by someone you consider weak? Are you angry? Ashamed? What, you can''t accept being beaten by someone beneath you? You can''t even admit defeat? Fine, I''m magnanimous. You want to beat me with magic? I''ll give you the chance."


    Han Ming''s smile was cold, his eyes filled with disdain.