Chapter 77: The Terrifying Sandstorm Waltz

“The real reason I joined this competition is different from yours. It’s not for fame, not for dreams, not for advancement...” Wang Yuming declared with unwavering resolve, “What I want is nothing more than the two hundred thousand championship prize!”

“The prize money...?” Cheng Feng was momentarily incredulous at Wang Yuming’s response.

From the way Wang Yuming had started, one might have expected some lofty motivation, but in the end, it was simply money—such a stark contrast. Every demon hunter who entered the tournament did so with burning passion for victory; the lure of two hundred thousand was merely a bonus, hardly something most contestants cared about. After all, to rise above over two hundred competitors, advancing through each round to become the ultimate champion of the Advancement Tournament, meant more than just wealth. The winner would be promoted directly to elite status, garner the admiration of the leadership, and become the focus of the Association’s full support. In the future, they might even ascend to ace rank, just like Lu Baiming, who claimed the championship three years ago. Now, Lu Baiming was one of the Association’s top three combatants, codename “The Divine Magus,” second only to Chief Ace Chu Xinghe, and virtually unrivaled as the number two ace.

Ye Lin’s motivation for entering was to repay a debt of gratitude, an exception to the rule. Who would have thought Wang Yuming was another exception? For the sake of this prize, he had defeated countless opponents and fought his way to the final, his willpower absolutely formidable. Such was the faith of the desperate.

Coincidentally, Cheng Feng was also eyeing the prize money.

The clang of blades rang out—so rapid they blurred before the naked eye—as the two dueled atop the arena, darting and weaving with breathtaking speed. The clash of their spirit blades echoed across the platform.

“They’re way too fast.”

“I can’t see a thing.”

Spectators craned their necks from the stands, abuzz with astonishment and wonder. The two figures on stage moved so quickly they became indistinct smudges, their spirit blades meeting in bursts of starlike sparks.

Liu Shiyu clasped her hands, sighing in admiration. “I never imagined Cheng Feng’s swordsmanship had reached such a level.”

Back in the training hall, when she had sparred with him, his technique was certainly outstanding, but still far inferior to her own. Now, watching Cheng Feng and Wang Yuming locked in all-out battle, she could see how much stronger Cheng Feng had become.

Beside her, Cheng Yi craned her neck, peering at the two blurring figures locked in high-speed combat on the stage. “Sister Shi, I can’t follow the fight—how’s my brother doing?”

Liu Shiyu hesitated, then spoke plainly. “It’s dangerous... Cheng Feng’s opponent is stronger.”

For Wang Yuming to have made it to the finals alongside Cheng Feng, his prowess was nothing to scoff at; in fact, he was slightly superior. If not for the added benefit of “Thunder Shadow Step,” Cheng Feng wouldn’t even match Wang Yuming in speed. Even that small gap in strength was becoming more apparent as the fight wore on, and Cheng Feng felt the mounting pressure.

From the audience’s perspective, the match seemed deadlocked, neither side giving ground. But Cheng Feng, caught in the thick of battle, keenly sensed the scales of victory tipping quietly toward Wang Yuming.

This couldn’t go on—defeat was only a matter of time.

After hundreds of exchanges, Cheng Feng was clearly falling behind, his body streaked with blood and marked by vicious blade wounds.

Knowing Cheng Feng possessed rapid healing abilities, Wang Yuming showed no mercy. Determined to win, he struck with everything he had, never holding back for a fellow member of the Association.

Spirit Art—Sandburst Cleave!

His spirit blade, the Sandstar, gleamed with dark gold as a yellow aura surged, amplifying its destructive power. Wang Yuming brought it down in a mighty arc.

Cheng Feng, startled by the blow, twisted aside and pushed off the shattered tiles, using the rebound to leap away.

With a thunderous crash, the Sandburst Cleave smashed into the arena floor, erupting like a bomb and leaving a gaping crater beneath the spirit blade.

Cheng Feng seized the fleeting opportunity. Blood from his wounded right arm gathered into his palm, swiftly forming a blood pistol; droplets inside coalesced into bullets.

He raised the weapon, aimed at Wang Yuming, and squeezed the trigger.

Gunshots rang out—bang, bang, bang—in the blink of an eye, he fired several times.

Wang Yuming spun his blade downward, slicing through the air. A surge of yellow sand swept out, deflecting the incoming bullets with a gale of pressure.

Panting from exhaustion, Cheng Feng saw his attack fail and didn’t fire again. Though his wounds were gradually healing, his expression remained grim.

His mind raced. He’d used every ability in his arsenal, yet he was still outmatched. Even his most powerful and swiftest move, “Lightning Flash,” could only manage a draw when pitted directly against Wang Yuming.

“Lightning Flash” had, in previous matches, instantly felled Jiang He, gravely wounded the berserk Ye Lin, and defeated semifinalist Duan Wu. These victories had bolstered Cheng Feng’s confidence, yet now, in the final bout, he found himself thwarted.

To be honest, his mind was in turmoil; he couldn’t think of any counter-strategy.

Wang Yuming’s strength was beyond anything he had anticipated. Since entering the tournament, this was the first time Cheng Feng had faced such a formidable foe.

Now what...

Wang Yuming didn’t press the attack. Both fighters paused in a tense standoff, their eyes locked, brimming with fighting spirit.

“You’re using the ‘High-Speed Blade’ style?” After their exchange, Wang Yuming had gauged Cheng Feng’s abilities. “Do you know the third ace—Yan Ruying? Is she your master?”

“No,” Cheng Feng answered, recovering his strength during the lull. “She’s my teacher.”

Was there a difference between teacher and master?

Wang Yuming let the question pass. “It seems you’ve already shown all your skills. The gap between us is clear, so let’s not waste any more time. Let’s finish this. I need that money—to save my sister’s life.”

Cheng Feng’s eyes widened slightly as he caught the crucial detail. “You entered the Advancement Tournament for your sister’s sake?”

“Yes. She’s been cursed by a vampire and lies in the hospital, hovering between life and death. There’s only a slim chance to save her, and I need that two hundred thousand... Now, let’s bring this final to its end.”

A swirl of yellow sand rose beneath Wang Yuming’s feet, lifting him into the air. His dark golden eyes glinted coldly as he raised the Sandstar high. Endless winds and sand, centered on his spirit blade, surged in a spiraling dance.

“Take this... Sandfall Nocturne!”

ps: The editor just informed me that the story will be going live at midnight tomorrow—rather sudden... I thought the usual threshold was 200,000 words, and I’d just be starting the showdown against the Abyssal Ones then! I really wish I’d updated faster. I sincerely hope all readers will support the novel—please!