Chapter 84: The White Shadow in Dire Straits

Watching Mr. Jade Capital ignore him, the obese European middle-aged man seemed completely unbothered. He bent down and whispered to Jade Capital, “I wonder if you’ve considered my earlier suggestion? In this match, as long as we trap their Flying Flame contestant, their defeat is inevitable, and the audience will be thoroughly satisfied. If they lose, leave them on the stage and let my team punish them like sandbags until they die miserably. How does that sound?”

Facing the advancing Frost, White Shadow inwardly cursed his luck. Now, burdened by the artist’s four-hundred-kilogram shackle spell, his movements were sluggish and heavy. Before dying, the artist had sealed his own demonic energy within White Shadow, rendering him unable to use any demonic power. With so few seeds to catalyze as medicine, unable to transform them into weapons, it was nearly impossible to face Frost, whose demonic energy was no less fierce than the artist’s battle makeup.

This seal would last for about ten minutes. If so, all White Shadow could do was stall for time, hoping to endure until the seal was lifted. Perhaps then, he’d have a chance against Frost.

With this in mind, White Shadow let his hands fall and relaxed his body, feigning weakness. Remembering his earlier doubts, he looked at Frost and asked, “I have a question. Could you answer it for me first?”

Glancing at the seemingly harmless White Shadow, Frost replied in a low voice, “Speak.”

“I wonder, as denizens of the Demon Realm, why do you participate in the Human World’s Dark Martial Arts Tournament? In your realm, you can summon wind and rain at will. Why come here and stir up the chaos?”

Frost nodded, acknowledging White Shadow’s question, which struck at the heart of why the five of them had come to the Human World.

“It is for the light!”

“The light?”

“Yes, the light!” Seeing the confusion in White Shadow’s eyes, Frost continued, “Living in the Human World, you cannot fathom our existence in the Demon Realm, where darkness reigns eternally. It is a yearning for a world of brightness. With power, why shouldn’t we claim a place in this world? Even powerless humans carve out their own domains with so-called intelligence.”

Frost glanced toward the VIP seats, a cold smile on his lips. “That’s why we struggled through the Demon Realm to arrive here—for a place of our own in the light. We attend this tournament where any wish can be granted. The artist, the wind master, and I share this resolve. Do you understand now?”

Looking at Frost, White Shadow finally understood why these formidable figures from the Demon Realm had come to participate in such a tournament.

"Now, let the match begin!"

At the referee's announcement, Frost seemed to snap back, addressing White Shadow, "The time bought by the artist’s sacrifice must not be wasted.” He raised both hands, releasing extreme cold demonic energy. The moisture in the air converged, shimmering coldly in his palms. “And with such nimble thought and deep cunning, even sealed, you’re safer to attack from a distance. If you have some hidden skill, the artist’s death would be pointless.”

Frost lifted his right hand, and small ice spheres, condensed from the air’s vapor, hovered in his palm. “Though you can no longer use demonic energy, approaching you is still dangerous. I’ll finish you with these ice bullets. Take this—Frost Scatter Shot!” With a breath, the glass-sized ice bullets shot toward White Shadow like bullets.

Sensing danger, White Shadow dragged his heavy body to the right, but the ice bullets, fast as gunfire, zipped toward him, piercing his limbs and shoulders—missing vital organs. He continued to flee desperately, determined to stall until the seal was broken.

Watching him escape, Frost followed, raising his left hand. With a gentle blow, another salvo of ice bullets flew at White Shadow. Seeing them coming, White Shadow somersaulted forward, using a handstand to minimize the area exposed to attack. Even so, a few ice bullets grazed his hips and thighs.

Having dodged fatal blows, White Shadow crouched to the ground. 'This Frost is too strong. His ice bullets are too fast—I have no chance of winning.' Touching the blood seeping from his wounds, White Shadow’s eyes lit up as he recalled the artist had used his own blood to write the seals. If he used his own blood, could he erase the spell? Quickly, he smeared blood from his palm onto the seals drawn on his chest.

Seeing White Shadow wiping his chest’s seals with his own blood, Frost closed his eyes and shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. He seemed to know what White Shadow intended. Frost didn’t pursue, but walked step by step toward him, his right hand gathering new ice bullets. “It’s useless. The artist’s demonic power is too strong; your blood alone cannot erase the spell. You fought him—you know this best, don’t you? Until the artist’s demonic energy fades, you cannot use yours. So stop struggling.”

He raised his right hand, aiming at the ice bullets. “Rest in peace, White Shadow—Frost Scatter Shot!”

“Uwaa!”

Seeing the ice bullets hurtling toward him, White Shadow cried out. His wounds and the heavy seals on his limbs left him too weak to evade. He tried to twist his body, avoiding vital spots, taking less damage. Yet this round was worse than before—his arms, waist, abdomen, and both thighs were penetrated by Frost’s ice bullets.

The wounds were small but bled profusely, as if pierced by bullets. Clutching his abdomen, White Shadow’s face showed no panic. Instead, his eyes were chillingly calm, as if the blood of the demon fox within him was awakening.

White Shadow’s cold, ruthless demeanor hardly resembled someone gravely injured. Staring at Frost, his gaze was so icy, so devoid of emotion, that it felt like two blades stabbing into the eyes. It sent a bone-freezing despair through the heart, as if facing an immortal demon, enough to make anyone shudder.

Even Frost, whose demonic energy was ice-cold, felt chills at White Shadow’s emotionless stare. ‘What kind of monster is this? He’s been beaten to such a state, yet remains so terrifyingly calm. Is this the legendary psychological strength of the demon fox clan? If so, White Shadow is truly frightening.’

White Shadow stood upright, and Frost’s face broke out in cold sweat. His body involuntarily retreated a few steps. Realizing he’d been intimidated by White Shadow’s gaze, Frost forced himself to stop trembling, straightened up, and tried to regain his composure. How ridiculous—to be scared by this guy’s eyes.

“I have one more question for you!”

Barely standing, White Shadow moved his stiff body slightly and asked Frost, “Once you obtain the light, what will you do next?”

“...I don’t know.” Frost thought for a moment and shook his head. “First, we get the light. I haven’t thought about what comes after.”

“I see.”

‘Time is running out,’ Frost thought, anxious about the duration of the artist’s seal. It had been nearly seven or eight minutes since the fight began. If this went on, the seal would expire. Dealing with White Shadow once his demonic energy returned would be much harder, and the artist’s life would have been sacrificed in vain. Resolving not to waste another moment, Frost condensed an ice sword, sheathing his hand and extending up his arm. No matter the cost, he had to kill White Shadow now, even if it meant close combat—he couldn’t let him escape again.

“Amazing! Frost has condensed an ice sword using his demonic energy—truly extraordinary! It seems Frost is preparing for a close-quarters battle with White Shadow. With White Shadow so badly wounded, how will he face Frost’s attack? Let’s watch and see!”