"Don't get too arrogant!" The rooster-haired youth clutched the wound where his arm had been severed.
If he hadn't retreated just a moment sooner, the rapier wouldn't have struck his arm—it would have taken his head.
"Dammit!"
This woman had to be a Title Douluo. If she weren't, how could she have overwhelmed them like this without even using her Martial Soul or Soul Skills?
Still, with such frenzied evasion, she shouldn't be able to keep it up for long.
There were still 49 of them left—the scales of victory still tipped in their favor.
That's right—we hold the advantage!
"I don't feel like playing with you anymore." Ning Rongrong's indifferent gaze swept over them. "I thought you might give me some pressure, but it seems my expectations were a bit too high!"
What defeat CG?
How could something like that ever happen?
Here, in this battle, she possessed the full strength of her prime.
Unlike the dignified, elegant, and delicate Young Miss Ning of the outside world—so easily pushed down.
"Come on, face me head-on!" Ning Rongrong took a step forward, covering ten meters in an instant. A few afterimages trailed behind her as she flickered directly in front of the rooster-haired Soul Douluo.
Distracted by the pain of his severed arm, the youth couldn't react in time—it seemed he was about to meet his end.
"Little girl, don't get too full of yourself!" The scar-faced man leaped into the air, his cleaver slashing down with enough force to carve a deep trench into the ground, forcibly forcing Ning Rongrong back.
Landing lightly in the distance, she patted the dust off her skirt.
"Not bad."
"A Soul Douluo-level expert really is a bit harder to kill."
Her expression remained unchanged, still calm and composed—an attitude that infuriated the other Soul Masters participating in the challenge.
The three Soul Douluo cooperating together did indeed give Ning Rongrong quite a bit of trouble. Dealing with them was far more difficult than facing a single Title Douluo.
Surrounding them were numerous Soul Kings, Soul Emperors, and even Soul Sages working in unison.
During the fight, Ning Rongrong had to focus not only on her immediate opponents but also remain vigilant against unpredictable attacks.
Martial Souls on the Douluo Continent were bizarre and varied.
If she let her guard down and fell victim to some strange ability, she wouldn't even have a place to cry about it.
"Pfft—"
A sweet, metallic taste filled Ning Rongrong's mouth.
Crimson blood gushed from her lips.
She looked down in disbelief at the half-exposed blade protruding from her chest.
"When did…?" Her face twisted with shock.
"Tsk tsk, what a shame!" A cold, mocking voice sounded from behind her.
It belonged to a short-tempered, muscular man with messy hair—one of the three Soul Douluo participating in the challenge.
"Earlier, you did the same thing with that 'turnaround stab,' didn't you?" The man chuckled darkly. "The heavens spare no one, little girl. You're finished."
"But I remember you…"
Before Ning Rongrong could finish, the man cut her off:
"I never said I was a defensive-type Soul Master. My Martial Soul isn't a hard-shelled conch—it's a variant."
"It's called the Mirage!"
"It allows people to unknowingly fall into illusions. That is my Martial Soul."
"You were too careless, White Queen."
Two yellow, two purple, and four black Soul Rings shimmered around the Mirage, the eight rings radiating immense pressure.
"You… you're so despicable!"
"Guh—!" Another mouthful of blood spilled from her lips. Ning Rongrong coughed violently, her peripheral vision catching sight of a human-shaped mud figure melting away in the distance.
So that was what had tricked her…
These old veterans of Slaughter City really couldn't be underestimated.
Noticing her gaze, the man grinned savagely:
"Slaughter City has no rules. The moment you stepped into the arena, the battle had already begun."
"What you saw as my 'double' was just an illusion."
"I've been hiding nearby, waiting for my chance—and now, I've finally seized it."
"White Queen, your reign ends here." The man laughed maniacally, drunk on the thrill of defeating a powerful foe.
"Hahaha, HAHAHAHA—!"
Schlick—
Suddenly, the world spun around him. His consciousness grew sluggish.
"Yeah, it's over."
"Not my era—but your head."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His head rolled across the ground, bouncing a few times before coming to a stop.
With his last shred of awareness, the man glared hatefully behind him.
There, the White Queen—who had been impaled through the chest—slowly faded away, dissolving into motes of light.
As a Soul Douluo, even with his head severed, his powerful vitality allowed him a few final moments of consciousness.
"You… you tricked me!"
His decapitated body gushed blood from the neck. Behind it stood the White Queen, her expression icy, the rapier in her right hand dripping with fresh blood.
How could he not understand what had just happened?
"People are most vulnerable when they're at their happiest."
"You—" The head on the ground could no longer speak. After a few garbled sounds, his consciousness faded into eternal darkness.
Haaah—
Ning Rongrong took a deep breath. "Using illusions against me? Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Killing a Soul Douluo in front of so many spectators still posed some difficulty for her now.
Especially with so many hostile eyes watching—the challenge only grew exponentially harder.
But if she paid a small price—letting her opponent believe victory was within reach—then many problems could be solved.
And so, she sacrificed a clone.
Let it be "killed," then struck when her enemy's guard was down.
Almost simultaneously with the Mirage Soul Douluo's death, dozens of White Queen clones emerged from distorted spaces all around.
In an instant, they launched a swift, merciless assault on the remaining challengers.
In mere moments, the dozens of Soul Masters had been reduced to fewer than ten.
Two Soul Douluo, seven Soul Sages, and one Soul Emperor.
"What the hell is this?!" The rooster-haired Soul Douluo—already missing an arm, unbalanced and panicked—was slashed across the back by one of the White Queen's clones.
The wound stretched from his spine down to his waist.
"AAAAAGH—!"
His agonized scream pierced the air.
With great effort, he managed to cut down two clones rushing toward him. The defeated clones burst into crimson mist before vanishing completely.
The remaining Soul Masters huddled together, as if proximity alone could grant them safety.
The White Queen's clones didn't press the attack. Instead, they all returned to Ning Rongrong's side, lining up in neat rows like a well-disciplined army.
"Not bad. You managed to take out over thirty of my clones."
Ning Rongrong's tone was almost playful. Every enemy her clones struck had their time stolen—though the efficiency wasn't as high as direct consumption, it was far safer.
No need for messy complications or unnecessary risks.
"Y-you… you've been toying with us?!" The scar-faced man finally realized, his eyes burning with hatred as he stared at the White Queen's youthful face.
They couldn't win. There was no winning.
Not only did she wield illusions, but she also had an army of clones.
Though these clones seemed fragile—easily shattered in one hit—their attacks could pierce through even Spirit Avatar defenses.
One or two might not kill a Soul Sage, but a swarm of them could overwhelm even a Soul Douluo.
His rooster-haired comrade—though weakened by his missing arm—had nearly been killed just moments ago.
Terrifying. Unfathomably terrifying.
No wonder…
That side had given them so many advantages—they were just being used as stepping stones!
"Alright, that's enough. I'm tired of playing."
Ning Rongrong's voice sent a chill down the scarred man's spine.
He didn't think she was joking. The next attack would surely be the last.
Dammit—!
If she was going to look down on him like this, then even in death, he'd tear a piece of flesh from her!
Just as he gathered his strength for a final, desperate strike—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shook the entire arena.
Everyone's attention snapped toward the source.
"The King of Slaughter's palace?!"
The tallest structure in the inner city—the grand palace—had been split in half at the midsection, its entire upper half obliterated.
A surge of terrifying energy erupted from the ruins, illuminating the sky.
A crimson glow, radiating intense red flames, streaked toward them at an unbelievable speed.
At the same time, a hoarse, grating voice echoed across the battlefield:
"Tang Chen, don't think you've won!"
"In Slaughter City—I am the true King of Slaughter!"