Chapter 83: The Frostbringer Enters the Stage

The sharp rose thorns on the white shadow’s whip instantly slashed deep wounds across the suspended Painter’s body, causing torrents of blood to spurt from the gashes. Struck by the demonic power contained within the whip, the Painter’s internal organs suffered severe damage as well, and he coughed up blood in great quantities. The situation reversed in a heartbeat—just moments ago, the Painter had held the advantage, but now he was swiftly defeated by the white shadow. Truly, the cunning of the fox demons was terrifying; one must never relax vigilance until the very end, and the Painter’s carelessness was a harsh example. Yet, nothing could be changed now. Gravely wounded, the Painter issued a feeble cry toward the white shadow standing before him: “You... actually used your hair...”

“My apologies,” replied the white shadow, turning away from the blood-soaked Painter. “My weapons are hardly limited to my hands and feet.”

“What a dramatic reversal we’ve witnessed!” exclaimed Miss Ruoxi, the commentator, to the audience. “The white shadow, whose body was previously restrained, has somehow used his own hair to inflict fatal wounds on the Painter! Unbelievable!”

“Ah!” At those words, the Painter spat out another mouthful of blood, evidently enraged by the white shadow’s taunt. Staring at his opponent, he spoke through a mask of regret: “I was careless! No matter the trouble, I should have sealed away your demonic power first... cough, cough...”

“I think you ought to stop talking—our battle is decided. If you don’t release the restraints on me and tend to your own wounds, you’ll be in grave danger.”

“Heh, is that so... cough, cough...” Blood trickled from the Painter’s lips, his injuries clearly grievous. Yet he fixed the white shadow with a wicked smile. “It’s not over yet!”

Gazing at the trembling figure before him, the white shadow felt a twinge of pity. “Even though I’m restrained, I’m still far more agile than you in your current state. Don’t throw your life away needlessly. It’s truly a shame for a master like you to fall here.”

“Is that so?” The Painter closed his eyes as if pondering something. After a moment, he snapped them open, his gaze wild with madness. “It’s not a shame to die—it’s an honor! I’ll make you pay in blood! Die, white shadow, die!”

Consumed by frenzy, the Painter ignored his wounds and lunged at the white shadow, swinging his nearly severed right arm down toward him. The white shadow, unable to bring himself to attack, easily dodged the sluggish blow. The Painter seemed to pour all his remaining strength into that punch, and his right arm, unable to withstand the force, snapped and fell to the ground.

“Cough, cough...” Seeing his attack fail, the Painter coughed up a torrent of blood, which, mingling with the blood from his severed arm, splattered onto the white shadow.

“Stop this!” the white shadow cried urgently. “If you keep this up, you’ll bleed to death!”

But the Painter seemed deaf to his warning. He raised his head and gave a ghastly laugh, then swung his left fist at the white shadow. Clearly, he intended to fight to the death, heedless of his own injuries. But his attacks were futile—he could not harm the white shadow, and every movement only worsened his own wounds. It was a reckless, self-destructive assault, and the white shadow could not fathom his purpose.

After two wild swings, the Painter’s strength was spent. He collapsed to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. The white shadow, watching him bleed out, felt genuine regret.

“Why... did you do this...?”

At his words, the Painter slightly raised his trembling head, a triumphant smile breaking across his face—a bitter, tragic smile that suited his current state perfectly. Glaring at the white shadow, he uttered in broken gasps, “I... sealed it... You were careless... too...”

“What?”

“Heh... look at your body... that is... the final... magic seal... that completely... locks away... your demonic power... You... have lost...”

The white shadow looked down and saw an X-shaped talisman drawn on his chest, its appearance unnoticed until now. He recalled that the Painter’s blood had splattered onto him during their last exchange, and now the X’s top and bottom bore the word “Seal,” written in blood. Even at death’s door, the Painter had managed to seal away the white shadow’s demonic energy.

“You...” The white shadow tried to summon his power but found it totally unresponsive. He had indeed been careless; the seal was holding his demonic energy captive, just as the Painter had claimed.

“So... how is it? Was I wrong? You paid attention to my attacks, but you never noticed the blood I threw onto you... Heh, cough, cough... But it doesn’t matter. Before I die... I’ll tell you a secret... cough, cough... The true magic seal... is forged from my own blood... heh heh...” With his last strength spent, the Painter’s head drooped. “After I die... this seal will last... ten minutes... The rest... I leave to you all...”

“There was no need for this...”

Looking at the lifeless body before him, the white shadow felt a wave of sorrow. Though he had not killed the Painter with his own hands, it was still his doing that brought about the man’s death. Having lived as a human for over a decade, the white shadow could not help but be moved by compassion, a trait fostered by his human mother. Over the years, his temperament had softened, and for one who had once been the cold, ruthless phantom thief of the demon realm, such weakness seemed almost absurd. Yet ever since merging with Luffy’s body, the white shadow had become a vessel for two utterly different natures—Luffy’s sentimental, compassionate heart, and the former white shadow’s pitiless cunning. These dichotomies now coexisted within him, and perhaps because his body was still human, he retained the true emotions of Luffy’s humanity.

He had heard of these envoys from the demon realm before. Though powerful, they had never committed atrocities. Why, with their unique skills, had they come to the human world to participate in this dark tournament? This question troubled him, and as he pondered it while gazing at the Painter’s corpse, Miss Ruoxi, the referee, had already begun her countdown.

“Ten! The match is over!”

As soon as the Painter collapsed, Miss Ruoxi had stepped forward and begun counting. When he finished his final words, exactly ten seconds had passed. Seeing the white shadow still standing on the stage, Miss Ruoxi announced loudly to the audience, “White shadow is victorious! What an astonishing reversal! At the last moment, the white shadow turned the tables and defeated the Painter of the demon envoys with his whip of hair, claiming victory in this round! That was truly spectacular! To keep the tournament on schedule, let’s welcome the next contestant from the demon envoys!”

“Well done, Painter! Ten minutes is more than enough for me to deal with the white shadow!” Another member of the demon envoys shrugged off his long black cloak and stepped out from his team. “I won’t let your death be in vain!”

“Now entering the arena is Frost, the Ice Envoy of the demon envoys!” Miss Ruoxi quickly introduced the new fighter to the crowd. Each member of the demon envoys possessed a unique ability: Yuan could command the wind, the Painter wielded the power of the magic seal, and Frost likewise had his own special skill. Frost’s gift allowed him to manipulate the moisture in the air by channeling the cold within him, freezing it into weapons of ice using his own demonic energy.

As Frost ascended the arena, the white shadow felt a chill sweep over him, as if the temperature had instantly plunged into winter. Evidently, Frost’s power was formidable—no less so than the Painter’s battle makeup. Before a single blow was struck, the very air around them had begun to freeze.

Meanwhile, in the southeastern stands, a rotund European man in a lavish suit puffed on a cigar and grumbled to Mr. Yu Jing seated beside him, “Mr. Yu Jing, wouldn’t it be better to watch from the VIP seats? It’s filthy and cramped here—quite unbearable!”

Yu Jing took a drag from his own cigarette, seemingly indifferent to the complaint. Eyes fixed on the arena, he exhaled slowly and replied without lifting his head, “From here, you can see the action up close. Compared to the VIP section, this feels much more immersive.”