Just like that, the many disciples gathered around the arena were already whispering among themselves.

“Edwin Sullivan, I’ve heard of him—he’s a famous cultivation genius among the direct descendants. I heard he reached late Foundation Establishment a year ago, second only to the third son. But who is this Evan Sullivan guy? He’s also at late Foundation Establishment? Tsk tsk...”

“Evan Sullivan has always liked to cultivate in seclusion and rarely interacts with others. If you don’t spend much time in the clan, it’s not surprising you don’t know him. But for someone like him to take the initiative to challenge the life-and-death arena, he must really be holding in a lot of anger. It’s a pity, though—I heard he just reached the late stage. How could he possibly be a match for Edwin Sullivan, not to mention the huge gap in their techniques and magic tools?”

“I heard it’s because Evan Sullivan’s fiancée was snatched away by Edwin Sullivan! Heh, no wonder he’s throwing caution to the wind and stepping onto the life-and-death stage. On that stage, there’s no such thing as holding back—it’s truly life or death, and I don’t know how the clan’s law enforcement even approved this.”

“He’s a direct descendant. In terms of connections, how could we bastards even compare?”

...

Grant Sullivan and the chubby young man had already reached the mountaintop. Looking at the white barrier that had risen around the arena in the distance, and the two figures facing off on the stage, then listening to the guards’ discussions, their faces didn’t look good.

“This is bad! I didn’t expect the two of us to still be late. Now that the arena’s restrictions are activated, no one can stop this duel.” Victor Sullivan said grimly.

“Even if we’d arrived earlier, we probably couldn’t have talked them out of it. The third brother won’t give up this match. Now we can only hope he has some way to turn the tables.” Grant Sullivan’s expression shifted for a moment, then he sighed.

“Hmph, Lillian and those two lackeys of Edwin Sullivan are here too. She actually has the nerve to show up!” The chubby young man glanced around, then suddenly shouted excitedly.

Grant Sullivan was startled at his words and followed his gaze.

Not far from the arena, beside a boulder, three people were standing.

He recognized the two men—they were bastards who often followed Edwin Sullivan. The woman, however, was stunningly beautiful, with a graceful figure and an indescribable charm in her eyes and brows.

It was none other than Lillian, whom Grant Sullivan had met a few times before.

She was chatting and laughing with the two beside her, showing not a trace of worry or concern.

“For her to appear here as an outsider disciple, she must really be with Edwin Sullivan now.” Grant Sullivan gave Lillian a deep look and said blandly.

“Truly shameless!” Even though Victor Sullivan understood the situation, he couldn’t help but curse harshly.

As luck would have it, at that moment, Lillian happened to glance around and met Grant Sullivan’s gaze. She froze, showed a hint of embarrassment, then quickly turned away, seemingly a bit afraid of Grant Sullivan.

Just then, there was a ripple high above the arena, and a middle-aged man in a gray robe appeared out of thin air. He had thick eyebrows and big eyes, a completely bald head, and after glancing down a few times, he said coldly, “I’ll ask you two brats one more time: on this stage, your lives are your own responsibility. If you use powerful spells or magic tools, I may not be able to stop you in time. If someone really dies, according to the rules, no one will be held accountable. Under these circumstances, do you still wish to proceed?”

“Uncle Bai, I’m sure!”

“I’m sure as well.”

The two on the stage answered without hesitation, one glaring fiercely at the other, the other wearing a look of disdain.

The first was a young man in tight clothes, handsome, with a sword strapped to his back and eyes blazing with fury.

The other was a young lord with a horse-like face, dressed in luxurious robes, holding a dark green paper fan in one hand, a thick bronze ring on the other, and a sparkling ancient jade pendant at his waist.

“If I win this match, you make Lillian leave.” the handsome youth shouted harshly.

“And if you lose?” Edwin Sullivan retorted with contempt.

“If I lose, I’ll leave my life to you.” Evan Sullivan replied coldly.

“Fine, it’s settled then. I tend to lose control during a fight—whether you survive or not is another matter.” Edwin Sullivan laughed wildly.

“Same goes for me.” Evan Sullivan’s face was grim.

The white-robed steward in the sky ignored their conversation and coldly announced, “Begin!”

“Die!” Evan Sullivan shouted, forming a hand seal with one hand. The sword on his back shot out of its sheath, turning into a blue arc that slashed toward Edwin Sullivan.

Before the blue arc even reached him, its chilling sword intent enveloped everything within several meters, making everyone’s hair stand on end.

Edwin Sullivan just laughed loudly at this. He tossed his fan into the air, and with a whoosh, it opened on its own. Runes of all colors swirled, and a dark green phantom of a small mountain floated out, spinning once before growing to over three meters tall and smashing into the blue arc.

With a “bang,” the dark green mountain phantom shuddered violently, immediately splitting open from top to bottom, but the blue arc also trembled and flew back, turning once again into a blue longsword.

“Blood-burning Art.”