The beggar chuckled and rubbed his nose. His outstretched right hand slowly clenched into a fist. "If you keep scattering your power like this, I won't go easy on you next time."
As he spoke, he suddenly took a step forward. His tall body soared into the air and pounced at Constantine like a giant bird.
Constantine's eyes were stern. He raised his shield with his left hand, and the golden light on his body suddenly receded, making him look like he was made of gold.
The aura of light that he emitted earlier also disappeared in an instant.
He had actually condensed his own power.
"Boom —"
Without the dazzling golden light, the spectators could clearly see their collision this time.
The beggar's fist smashed into the shield. Constantine staggered a step back, and a faint layer of golden light on his body dissipated.
The beggar chuckled and threw another punch, which also landed on the shield.
Constantine took it head-on and took another step back.
The beggar punched seven times, and Constantine took seven steps back.
Their collision seemed simple, but those with discerning eyes were all shocked.
Were the seven punches exactly the same?
No, each punch was different, and each punch contained a different kind of power.
Constantine raised his shield seven times, using different methods to deal with the attacks, but he was still retreating.
The beggar's body shook, and his entire body suddenly became illusory. Low Sanskrit chants rang out. In the air behind him, facing Constantine's Mountain Paradise, a huge Buddha statue slowly appeared.
The Buddha statue looked solemn, and its entire body emitted a dazzling golden light.
The beggar's smile disappeared, replaced by a devout look.
His fist turned into a palm again, and every time he punched, it sounded like a huge bell.
Vast and vigorous.
Constantine's shield blocked his attacks again and again, but he himself was forced to retreat again and again.
This was the first round of sparring, and both sides had sent out people they were not familiar with.
However, the intensity of the energy that erupted in this round.
It shocked everyone.
The beggar's cultivation was actually higher than Constantine's.
He pushed Constantine back with another palm strike.
The beggar clasped his hands together in front of his chest and suddenly became pious. The Buddha statue behind him also changed slightly. A faint smile appeared on its solemn face.
The Pharmacist's eyes were cold as she watched. "The Arhat of the Subduing Dragon," she said softly.
"Dragon-subduing Arhat?" Lan Jue looked at her in confusion.
"What is his Arcana?"
"The Western Alliance's Divinity Projection," the Pharmacist replied, "is actually a form of inheritance.
Then, through the stimulation of the gene medicine, this inheritance would be magnified.
The same thing is happening in the Eastern Alliance.
It was also a legacy.
What the beggar possesses is the inheritance of Taming Dragon Arhat. I know about this lineage.
Laughing at the injustice of the world.
I didn't expect him to be on Skyfire Avenue all this time without us knowing.
The Arhat of the Taming Dragon came from the faith of Buddhism. The Pontiff's Citadel's faith came from Christianity.
It could be said.
This was a battle between the two sects.
The difference was that the beggar's power was completely innate.
Constantine, on the other hand, was the epitome of acquired talent.
Acquired growth is fast, but acquired is acquired. "
Boom!
The Pauper's body swayed, and he staggered back three steps. Constantine, on the other hand, had to stagger back a dozen steps before regaining his balance.
The surface of the shield in his hand was densely covered with cracks.
The Pauper stretched his arm. "Want another go?"
Constantine didn't give up just because he was at a disadvantage. On the contrary, his eyes burned with passion.
The shield in his hand vanished in a flash of light.
His right hand rose high into the air, and he made a grasping motion.
In the next moment.
A long spear appeared in his hand.
It was seven meters long, and enormous.
As soon as it appeared, the entire arena was surrounded by a strange halo of light.
It was a sign that the Space couldn't handle it.
The Pauper gasped. "Huh? The Pontiff gave you the Citadel's Spear of Judgment?
That's a big deal!
No wonder you didn't give up.
Very well. "
As he spoke, the Pauper's right hand waved in the air. There was a flash of golden light, and something else appeared in his hand.
It was a battered palm-leaf fan. Even if it was waved, it would leak air.
The Pauper chuckled, and waved his hand at Constantine.
A strange scene unfolded. The Spear of Judgment's appearance had destabilized the space around them, but now it was restored to normal.
The Pauper's body flickered, and seven figures appeared.
Buddhist chants filled the air, and the seven Paupers leapt forward, or sideways.
They surrounded Constantine.
Constantine stood motionless, the Spear of Judgment in his hand. Suddenly, he thrust the spear forward. His target, however, wasn't the seven Paupers.
There was a tiny black dot at the tip of the spear. It grew larger and larger, like a black hole, and sucked in everything around it.
But it was also at this moment that countless tiny golden specks of light suddenly surged from all directions. The seven beggars disappeared, and the Buddha projection also disappeared.
A giant hand emerged from thin air, and grabbed the Spear of Judgment's tip.
A battered palm-leaf fan appeared out of thin air. With a gentle wave, Constantine was sent flying.
Bang! His body slammed into the barrier in the distance.
The giant hand that appeared out of thin air disappeared, and the beggar reappeared, waving his tattered palm-leaf fan for a long time.
The Spear of Judgment floated in the air.
"You've lost." The Pauper chuckled, then turned and left the arena.
Constantine picked himself up from the ground. He wasn't dismayed by his defeat.
With a wave of his right hand, the Spear of Judgment returned to him.
Archangel Metatron's face was a mask of astonishment. He hadn't expected to lose this fight.
"Constantine." He called out.
Constantine shook his head. "My skill was inferior."
The Pauper didn't linger, but continued on his way. No one could see that his left palm was scorched black. His victory hadn't been as easy as it seemed.
The Wine Master's voice called out. "Round two."
In the first round, the two Citadels had sent their representatives first. This time, it was Skyfire Avenue's turn.
The Pharmacist shot the Wolf King a cold glare, then gracefully made her way to the Reaper's arena.
The Wolf King was taken aback. She was the one to represent Skyfire Avenue?
For a moment, the Wolf King's face was a mask of disgust.
Lucifer waved his hand, and a dark figure appeared at his side.
The appearance of this black figure was extremely strange, as if it had walked out from his shadow.
In a flash, it entered the Reaper's arena.
Lan Jue spoke to the Gourmet. "Is the Pauper going to be alright?"
The Gourmet shook his head. "It's nothing serious.
He's a very competitive man.
Both his and his opponent's weapons have a certain amount of protogenia.
His control, however, is more refined.
It's the same with his cultivation.
The further you go, the greater the advantage a congenital Adept has.
It's the result of experience. "
Across from the Pharmacist was another figure, shrouded in a black cloak. His face was impossible to see.
His aura was dark and cryptic.
"I am the Pharmacist," she said softly.
Whether it was the Citadels or Skyfire Avenue, everyone was curious. How would this beautiful woman in a qipao fight?
She wasn't dressed for strenuous exercise!
"My name is Judas." The dark figure's voice was low and hoarse.
The moment the name left his mouth, the Pontiff's Citadel gasped in shock.
In that instant, Metatron's aura grew fierce and fierce. His eyes blazed as he stared at the fallen angel Lucifer not too far away.
The founder of the Pontiff's Citadel was named Jehovah.
He was not the Pontiff, but he was known as the Holy Father.
Jehovah had twelve disciples.
One of them was Judas.
It was he who had betrayed Jehovah for money. Jehovah had been captured, and later killed.
Jehovah had been transformed, but the pain, the pain, would forever be remembered by the Pontiff's Citadel.
Not long after Jehovah's death, Judas had been hanged from a tree. This man couldn't be the real Judas.
But he dared to use that name. What kind of provocation was this?
Lucifer didn't even look at Metatron. "He's just a projection of Judas.
Don't forget why we're here. "
Metatron lifted a hand, and the Citadel's Citadel calmed down. Anger was evident on their faces.
Just then, footsteps sounded from behind them. Two figures slowly approached.
"Your Holiness."
"Your Majesty the Demon King."
The Citadel's people bowed.
It was the Hand of God, the Pontiff, and the Demon King, Satan.
The two Paragons' faces were grim. They walked to the front of the group, and watched the Reaper's Arena.
At this moment, the battle in the sparring arena had already begun.
The man in black, who called himself Judas, flickered. He was like a cloud of black mist, heading straight for the Pharmacist.
The Pharmacist didn't move. Her pretty face was cold.
She waved her right hand in the air, and a beam of yellow light appeared.
There was a thunderous rumble, and a bolt of lightning fell from the heavens. It struck the shadowy figure.
Lightning?
Her Discipline was lightning?
Judas paused in the air, and a layer of strange energy fluctuation suddenly emitted from his body. A silver light shot out and blocked the descending lightning in the air.
Silver Light was struck by the lightning. In an instant, silver light shone brightly, and its body expanded rapidly.
It was a simple and unadorned silver coin.
The faces of the Pontiff's Citadel grew darker.
-----
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(To be continued)