Chapter 226
Chapter 226
Chapter 226
Translator: True Detective
Chapter 226 – Lan Qi’s Species Evolution Special Training
The winter air was thick with chill. Huperion held onto Talia’s hand, as if wanting to share a trace of warmth with her.
“Talia, you should head back first. Later I’ll ask Lan Qi to send me back to the Cat Boss Restaurant.”
Huperion gazed at Talia, speaking with gentle thoughtfulness.
She could feel it—Talia didn’t really want to keep watching this match.
Though she didn’t know the reason, Huperion never pressed when she sensed someone was troubled.
“Alright. I’ll wait for you at home so we can have dinner together.”
Talia nodded, let go of Huperion’s hand, then stood and quickly walked away down the aisle.
Watching her figure disappear, Huperion let out a quiet sigh, both relieved and wistful.
“If only I had a mom like that from the very beginning…”
She lowered her lashes and murmured softly to herself.
Then she shook her head, turning her gaze back toward the battlefield.
—
On the icy arena floor, the iron armor of the Demon King’s Slaughter Troop clattered.
A wiry fighter suddenly exploded forward with astonishing speed, his whole body bursting into motion like lightning, muscles rippling with force—intent on ending his enemy in one devastating kick.
But the jagged great sword of the Demon King’s soldier was already waiting. He didn’t block—he absorbed the strike head-on.
At the same instant, the jagged blade ripped into the fighter’s chest, tearing it open. The warmth of fresh blood was instantly stolen away by the freezing wind.
On the other side of the arena, two Demon King soldiers cornered a retreating fighter. He tried desperately to dodge, but the crushing great axe and deathly scythe cleaved down at both sides of his waist. Blood sprayed, his insides nearly split apart, and the shock force seemed to shatter his spine.
Blood mist filled the air. The audience could clearly see—the Demon King’s soldiers weren’t just fighting to win, they were enjoying the slaughter. Each strike was carved with madness, as though only through blood could their chaotic eyes burn and their hollow souls be filled.
The five fighters of Ikerite Academy, altered by Lan Qi, had no sense of pain left—only the killing instinct burned into them.
Their serrated great swords and giant axes carved crimson arcs in the air. Every swing ended with a scream or a body flung across the ground.
The white marble arena was already stained a deep red, blood spreading in jagged streaks across the stone.
“No, don’t come any closer!!”
A fighter with a twisted leg sat on the floor, tears of fear in his eyes as he scrambled back. He punched desperately at the oncoming Demon King soldier, but his blows were as meaningless as an ant against a mountain.
The butcher approached—closer, closer—eyes gleaming only with contempt for life and a deranged obsession with killing.
The sickening sound of organs bursting echoed across the battlefield.
—
Ten minutes later, the Yaloran Kingdom’s fighters fell one after another. Their weapons were soaked in blood, their strength broken.
Now, only Kuse remained—surrounded by five devils.
Even though every Ikerite fighter carried wounds, their twisted smiles only grew more satisfied.
“At last… only you remain.”
The vice-captain’s voice rumbled low, like a beast from the abyss.
The others, too—their sole purpose seemed to be killing Kuse. A thousand deaths, ten thousand, would never be enough.
Their hatred had almost turned to love—an obsession. They wanted only to see him, only to reach him, for only through him could they find release.
“You bastards, why won’t you fall?!”
For the first time, Kuse found himself retreating, a primal reaction in his muscles.
He had struck them down before in the fight—broken bones, shattered bodies.
But no matter how much they broke, they kept standing back up!
He had never seen such terrifying creatures.
Bloodied but still able to fight, Kuse now faced five zombie-like demons, endlessly relentless. For the first time, true fear seized him.
And yet—with tens of thousands watching—after the harsh words he had spoken, to surrender to those he despised most was worse than death itself.
“You know how many times I’ve been killed by you…”
“Today, you must die here…”
“I will never again let you harm Zirvini…”
Their heads trembled, faces twisted as they muttered incoherently, crimson eyes fixed on Kuse alone.
It was like some evil brainwashing had left them chanting nonsense.
“What the hell are you even talking about?!”
Kuse shouted in terror.
He had never done anything to Zirvini!
Even the commentator, Lu Weixier, was left speechless.
At that moment, Huperion leapt from the stands and ran straight to the coach’s bench, dropping into the seat beside Lan Qi.
The problem was far worse than she imagined.
The staff had seen someone jump down and almost rushed to stop her, but when Lan Qi raised his hand, signaling that she was with the coaching team, they halted at once.
“Huperion,” Lan Qi turned to her, smiling smugly, “I promise you’ll get your satisfaction today.”
“Lan Qi… what did you do to them these past two days?”
Her eyes stayed fixed on him, tense.
She had expected excuses, but he admitted it outright—it was for her.
But that only deepened her fear. What had he done? How far had he gone?
Lan Qi’s green eyes seemed bottomless, pulling everything into his frenzy. Anyone who met them might willingly throw away everything.
“I had Professor Bolao customize me a horror-themed solo Artificial Shadow World. I modified it so death didn’t eject them from the trial—when they died, they resurrected at an earlier point and were forced to keep repeating until they cleared it.”
Lan Qi leaned back, fingers interlocked on his lap, gaze calmly fixed on the arena.
“And then?”
“I made Kuse and his teammates the villains. I modeled the heroine exactly after Zirvini. Then I dropped each of the five fighters into their own private shadow worlds, crafting the most unbearable tragedies their personalities couldn’t withstand.”
Huperion fell silent.
“In that endless cycle, they watched Zirvini slaughtered again and again. They died, resurrected, and died once more. Every time they broke down in despair, the Great Poet appeared as a goddess—gently recounting their sins and failures, sending them back to try again.”
“You… made the Great Poet… a goddess?”
Huperion swallowed.
“Yes. I told her to go all out—heal them with words to her heart’s content.”
Huperion pressed her hands to her head.
She couldn’t even describe it—it was sin, torture, spiritual ruin.
And yet she had been the one to open this Pandora’s box.
“It’s not all.”
Lan Qi shook his head.
The fighters never knew it, but as administrator of the shadow worlds, Lan Qi sometimes descended as a role himself—manufacturing tragedies that would drive them into ultimate fear or rage, guiding them further.
The endings were always “victory,” but every companion, every comrade, inevitably died. Zirvini too—always dead because of them.
If even one ally looked like they might survive to the finale, Lan Qi personally intervened to snuff them out.
“What I wanted to show them was fate. Every time they thought hope had returned, I crushed it—again and again—until they understood destiny cannot be changed. When they came back to reality, they felt like waking from a dream. But the wheel of fate had begun to turn once more—and now, they had only one chance left.”
Thirty hours later, the five fighters finally staggered out of Lan Qi’s shadow worlds.
Their spirits were utterly transformed.
“You…”
Huperion’s eyelids twitched furiously.
On the battlefield, she saw them now—fighters who had lived through endless cycles of Zirvini’s death at Kuse’s hands.
Now there was nothing left in their minds but killing Kuse.
And she didn’t dare imagine what they would do to him next.