Grace Young was kind-hearted, and since she had no real combat experience before, defeating Butcher Bolton's son was purely thanks to a burst of courage. She used completely unskilled attacks to forcefully knock her opponent down. She didn't even know what "playing the pig to eat the tiger" meant.

However!

Henry Clark truly grasped the essence of this saying, and could apply it with masterful skill.

Appear weak to the enemy, strike when they least expect it.

Just like alchemy, this too... is a technical craft.

Henry Clark deliberately showed a bit of hesitation and some timidity, even subconsciously taking a step back as if out of cowardice, then loudly said, "I won't use poison, and you can't kill anyone. Otherwise, Young Master Turner won't let you off."

"Annoying..."

Butcher Bolton looked at the obviously pretending-to-be-calm Henry Clark, feeling completely confident. After all, Henry Clark was just a first-level Qi Refining rookie, and clearly frail as well. So, facing such a lamb to the slaughter, when he charged forward, he only used seventy percent of his strength, confident that it would be enough to beat the other half to death.

"Huh?"

Butcher Bolton's confident slap merely grazed Henry Clark's scalp, but to his shock, even though Henry Clark hadn't actually been hit, his frail body collapsed in front of him.

What was going on?

Could his palm wind alone knock him down?

For a moment, he was stunned.

At the moment Butcher Bolton raised his arm, Henry Clark fell in the direction of the incoming slap, and as his hand touched the ground, his body twisted forcefully. In the next instant, a fierce whip kick struck the back of Butcher Bolton's left knee. As Butcher Bolton was forced to kneel on one knee from the kick, Henry Clark's body straightened and his fist landed precisely on the back of Butcher Bolton's head.

"Bang..."

Butcher Bolton's vision went black, and he collapsed face-first onto the arena.

Strike while the iron is hot.

Henry Clark had been through countless battles and was extremely experienced. He immediately dashed forward, stomping fiercely on Butcher Bolton's head like a street thug beating someone up. After more than twenty kicks, Butcher Bolton was knocked completely unconscious.

"Clap clap..."

Henry Clark stopped attacking and clapped his hands, signaling the end of the fight.

Too easy, far too easy.

Even he hadn't expected that with just a little trickery, he could so easily defeat an enemy of the same level. Was this Butcher Bolton really a third-level Qi Refining cultivator?

Around the arena.

Everyone was collectively petrified. Even those experts who had seen through Henry Clark's deliberate weakness hadn't expected the anticipated battle to end in such a one-sided street-thug-style beating.

Did it really have to be this easy?

Could they not have a proper show?

Countless people looked at the useless Butcher Bolton with helplessness and disappointment, wishing they could wake him up and have him fight Henry Clark again.

A hundred meters away.

John Foster stared dumbfounded at the scene on the arena, her mind in chaos. She had already arrived nearby when Henry Clark poisoned his opponent. Normally, such a small event wouldn't interest her, but since one of the main characters was Henry Clark, she decided to watch. But the duel she had looked forward to ended just like that?

All show and no substance!

John Foster kept silently criticizing Butcher Bolton, completely uninterested now.

"Princess, would you care to enter the carriage for a chat?" A misty voice came from within the qilin carriage.

John Foster was startled, but then her eyes lit up. Without the slightest hesitation or any obstruction, she strode up into the qilin carriage.

On the arena.

Henry Clark looked at the dazed Charles Turner. As a cold glint flashed and disappeared, a smile spread from the corner of his mouth as he asked, "Young Master Turner, shouldn't you announce the result of the duel?"

Charles Turner suddenly snapped back to his senses. He looked at the Butcher Bolton lying there like a dead dog, then at Henry Clark, and finally nodded with a complicated expression, loudly declaring, "I announce that in this duel, Henry Clark is the winner."

Henry Clark clasped his fists, and under the gaze of the restless crowd below, bent down and rummaged through Butcher Bolton's clothes, pulling out a stack of silver notes. He counted out enough to total seven hundred taels, then, seeing only two twenty-tael notes left, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and said with satisfaction, "A horse can't get fat without night grass, and a man can't get rich without windfalls. The ancients did not deceive me! Who would have thought that gambling on the arena, this kind of shady business, could make me rich. With these over a thousand taels of blue silver, I can buy plenty of herbs and concoct even more powerful poisons, right?"

Over a thousand taels?

To make poison?

Around the arena, quite a few adventurers who were eyeing the silver notes Henry Clark had won could no longer suppress their greed, quietly planning to find an opportunity to rob and kill him. But Henry Clark's muttering was like a blow to the head, instantly sobering them up. This guy, his cultivation might not be much, but he's a master of making and using poison!

What if...

He has even more powerful poisons? Robbing him would be suicide!

In an instant, most people gave up on the idea of robbing and killing him, and even thought about staying as far away from this little poison master as possible in the future. After all, those skilled in poison are never truly good people.

A moment later.

Henry Clark hurried away with Grace Young.