Chapter Five: The Dueling Arena—Simulated Combat!

Given the current circumstances, there was one place among the open buildings most suitable for him—the Arena.

The Arena was not only a venue for settling grudges but also allowed for gambling matches, friendly spars, or even solitary practice. During training, one could select simulated opponents.

However, after glancing at the Arena not far away, Murong Xun suppressed the urge within him. He was both mentally and physically exhausted; now was not the time for combat training.

Ever since he had inexplicably entered the replica world—such a place teeming with uncanny dangers where a single misstep could mean death—he had been treading with the utmost caution, unable to trust anyone. In such a state of constant vigilance, it was impossible for him to get any real rest.

After mentally communicating with the Tower of Magic, Murong Xun’s figure vanished from where he stood. In the next instant, he appeared directly in his private chamber.

This was a benefit granted to every player: as long as one was inside the Tower of Magic, they could return to their personal room at will through communication with the paradise—a feature reminiscent of the homeward scrolls found in games.

The private chamber was brightly lit and comfortably warm. At a mere thought from Murong Xun, a bed appeared in the corner of the room. He collapsed onto it and soon fell into a deep sleep, his breathing steady and calm.

When Murong Xun awoke again, more than a dozen hours had passed. In truth, he hadn’t woken naturally, but rather was roused by the tumultuous rumbling of his stomach—so loud it seemed to overturn rivers and seas.

Long hours without food had left his body in revolt.

Stepping out of the empty room, Murong Xun felt no inclination to decorate the place; as long as he had a place to rest and a bed to sleep on, he was content.

Nearby, there were shops run by lifestyle players everywhere, making it easy to resolve the problem of food. The shopkeepers here were not only skilled and hospitable, but—most importantly—the prices were cheap!

Murong Xun ate a hearty meal, yet it only cost him seventy or eighty points. One paradise coin could be divided into a hundred points.

From this, it was clear that life for lifestyle players was far from easy. It stood to reason—there were only so many combat players, while lifestyle players were numerous, and the competition among them must be fierce.

Once full, Murong Xun didn’t linger. He ambled leisurely toward the center of the Tower of Magic.

It took a while to get there—just enough time to help him digest his meal.

Moving quickly, Murong Xun soon arrived at the heart of the tower, standing before the Arena’s entrance.

[Welcome, player, to the Arena. Please select your desired mode.]

Friendly Match!
Duel to the Death!
Spectate!
Simulated Combat!

Without the slightest hesitation, Murong Xun chose Simulated Combat.

[Simulated Combat selected. Please choose your opponent, opponent type, and arena type.]

A row of options appeared before him.

Low-level Phantom, Mid-level Phantom, High-level Phantom, Ultimate Phantom!

Each of the four options was marked with a price below. Charges were calculated by the hour.

Uncertain of the combat strength of these phantoms, Murong Xun opted for the low-level phantom; it was affordable, costing only a hundred paradise coins, while the prices for the others increased tenfold with each tier—far beyond his means.

At the moment, after spending a hundred coins in the Enhancement Hall and giving Qiqige fifty, he only had a little over three hundred coins left—he simply couldn’t afford the mid-level phantom.

As for the phantom’s type, he had no particular requirements and didn’t know what to choose, so he left it to random selection. The same went for the arena.

After paying the hundred coins, a cluster of light slowly formed before him, gradually taking on human shape. When the glow dissipated, a middle-aged man in black samurai garb, wielding a long blade, stood before him.

Meanwhile, the surrounding environment subtly shifted, transforming into a vast, colossal arena.

[Phantom: A projection of a martial expert from a certain wuxia world, proficient in Blade Technique Level 1, master of multiple blade techniques!]

Reading this description, Murong Xun frowned.

He couldn’t tell whether this “proficient” level was high or low. After receiving his old classmate’s gift, his own proficiency was at a higher level, yet this phantom was of the same class, leaving Murong Xun unable to judge.

“People of the martial world, blades and swords know no mercy—prepare yourself!”

The middle-aged man’s face was stern as he cupped his hands in a martial salute.

Murong Xun retrieved a short sword from his personal space and returned the salute.

“A short sword?” The man’s expression changed. “What a pity—it is not the weapon made for you.”

Murong Xun raised an eyebrow—such keen insight! With one glance, the man had seen that the short sword did not suit him.

Indeed, Murong Xun had been thinking of replacing it, but with his current poverty, he was helpless.

“Never mind. Let us spar and learn from each other.”

The man did not dwell on it further.

Murong Xun nodded. With only an hour, he had to make the most of the time.

Once both sides had nodded, he struck out with his sword!

Though he used a short sword, with his Blade Technique at Level 10 proficiency, Murong Xun’s strike was swift and cunning, aiming straight for the man’s throat.

His combat instinct was to go for the head—always the safest bet.

But to Murong Xun’s surprise, the man didn’t even move his feet. Standing still, he simply raised his long blade—without even drawing it—and blocked the spot where Murong Xun’s sword was coming down.

Murong Xun could sense that the man’s strength was less than his own, yet he found himself stumbling sideways, unable to control his movement.

“Strength without control, skillful technique, but you lack mastery!” the man shook his head and sighed.

“Redirecting force with subtlety?” Murong Xun steadied himself, his face a mix of shock and delight.

He hadn’t expected that even a low-level phantom would be so formidable.

The man’s strength was inferior, but he used finesse to redirect Murong Xun’s power against him.

“Correct,” the man nodded. “Your blade technique is more refined than mine, but you have no real combat experience. In a life-or-death fight, I would take your life within three moves.”

Murong Xun fell silent.

At first, he’d thought his blade skills were decent—after all, with basic swordsmanship he’d slain many monsters in the uncanny world. Yet faced with someone far lower in level, he found himself so weak.

But after the sting of defeat, his fighting spirit was rekindled.

Which martial artist hadn’t started as a novice, training through the harshest winters and hottest summers, forging their body and will bit by bit until they acquired true strength? He was merely a beginner, already far ahead of many others.

At the very least, without more than a decade of experience, no one could have reached his current proficiency in blade technique.