Game’s Dogma

The spectating players no longer looked down on him; instead, greed filled their eyes. Even though Drako Yau didn’t reveal Charcoal, he paid 10,000,000 coins in front of everyone, which was enough to make him a cash cow. They couldn’t kidnap him as this was a game, but killing him repeatedly until he paid up was always an option.

Looking at Drako Yau’s full set of common gear, no one felt a tint of fear despite knowing it could just be a disguise. Greed had taken over their minds already. The 10,000,000 coins and the Phantasmic Realm Grass with unknown effects were worth the risk.

Drako Yau also sensed the change in everyone’s gazes, but he wasn’t too bothered by it. This was the Holy Ground, not the three cities. Combat was entirely disabled here, rendering the suicidal attack which Empyreon had used on him before useless.

Although standing out so much was contrary to his original intention, he was willing to sacrifice that much for the Phantasmic Realm Grass. Its usage was very well worth the risk. Under countless covetous stares, he casually entered the teleportation array and vanished.

Everyone suddenly realised they had no idea where he went. How were they supposed to know which city he teleported to? By the time they sent word to track Drako Yau down, he was already gone without a trace. His home was close to the resurrection altar, so it only took him a few turns to get there.

Charcoal leapt and landed gently on the ground, wagging its tail as it snuggled against his legs. Although it had to stay hidden in his cloak the entire trip, seeing the outside world was still a thrilling experience.

Drako Yau showed a gentle smile, sat on the Wyrm Bed, then lifted Charcoal onto his lap. He rubbed its belly for a while before changing his equipment and leaving the place.

Drako Yau went to the Arena and created a locked normal room. Many similar rooms existed; some players preferred to train themselves in private, while others sparred with their friends.

Normal rooms prohibited the use of equipment skills and items because the rationale behind the mode was to decide the victor through technique alone. However, Drako Yau could take out the Phantasmic Realm Grass from his item bag and place it at the centre of the battleground.

Drako Yau began his private training session. The moment he willed it, his arms shuddered and produced a gorgeous spear of ruby and sapphire in his hands. He then performed all his basic manoeuvres like he did for Master Bak, then closed his eyes and conjured an imaginary enemy in his mind.

He began fighting the imaginary enemy. This method trained not only the body, but also the mind. As he was most used to fighting the old geezer, he used the old geezer as his imaginary enemy most of the time. Frost Form and Flame Form naturally activated once the battle commenced, and his movements became more agile.

Drako Yau was more aware of the old geezer’s true strength the stronger he became. What had been a deadly hunt for him was no more than child’s play for the old geezer; he’d be dead in an instant if the old geezer tried.

The old geezer’s most terrifying trait was his versatility. His spearmanship was ever-changing; the spear was more than just a spear in his hands. Experienced fighters would notice that he utilised techniques from other weapons, which more than often could take enemies off guard. An unorthodox counter could land enemies in awkward situations as well.

Even though it was just a combat simulation, Drako Yau still felt the pressure mounting. As he fought the intense mental battle, the colourful mist shrouding the Phantasmic Realm Grass vibrated and changed.

The battle went on until Boiling Form activated. Drako Yau, with great self-discipline, ended the simulation and lay on the ground, exhausted. He glanced at the Phantasmic Realm Grass. It had morphed into a weird existence that didn’t resemble any plant.

He frowned and muttered, “Is this still not enough…”

A while later, Drako Yau packed away the Phantasmic Realm Grass and left the room. He then created and entered another locked room, this time with someone accompanying him. The person had a long, white braid and crimson pupils—Ichor Hon, king of the Arena. He ruled the Arena just as Fatty the Castellan ruled over Yoda.

Ichor Hon didn’t have anything particular on today’s itinerary, just like any other day. However, Drako Yau came to him and asked him for a spar, so he followed the young man into the room. He squinted his eyes and said, “Quite confident after receiving a new weapon from Master Bak, aren’t you?”

Drako Yau chuckled and took out the Phantasmic Realm Grass in embarrassment. He placed it at the battleground’s edge this time, afraid it’d be damaged in the upcoming battle. 

Ichor Hon widened his eyes and raised his voice by several pitches. “Phantasmic Realm Grass?” He then looked at Drako Yau in disbelief and pointed at his own slightly pale face. “You’re making me a dummy?”

For how shameless he was, even Drako Yau felt it was a bit overboard this time. He explained, “I tried practising on my own through a mental simulation, but it wasn’t enough.”

That clearly wasn’t enough to soothe Ichor Hon’s rage. He continued to glare into Drako Yau’s eyes. After a while, he gritted his teeth and grunted, “Very well. I treasure our brotherhood greatly.”

Drako Yau tumbled along the ground and slammed into the barrier before coming to a halt. Standing before him was Ichor Hon with his bloody blade, both radiating a choking amount of killing intent. Only then did Drako Yau realise how lucky he had been to claim victory over Ichor Hon back then.

He’s way too strong!

What were Drako Yau’s advantages over other players in the game? First was his mystical spearmanship and practical combat experience. Secondly, others treated it as a mere game while he fought for his life. Lastly, he had a cultivation style, a superior one no less. However, none of these were considered an advantage when up against Ichor Hon.

Technique-wise, Ichor Hon had spent his entire life submerged in swordsmanship and killing. No matter how talented Drako Yau was, he simply couldn’t rival Ichor Hon at just twenty or so years of age.

Combat-wise, Ichor Hon was more brutal than him even though he was always fighting to survive. His killing intent was honed during the days when the old geezer hunted him down, but technically speaking, it wasn’t an authentic killing intent as he merely imitated the old geezer. He had never killed someone in real life, while Ichor Hon had trampled over countless bodies to reach where he was now. His childish killing intent was like a candle before the sun; he could hardly breathe under the effect of Ichor Hon’s dense killing intent.

Needless to say, Ichor Hon was far superior in terms of cultivation as well. He was already at Lunar Reflection’s pinnacle while Drako Yau was still exploring the potential of the Cryoflame style.

This wasn’t a spar, but a one-sided beating. Drako Yau would never have survived ten strikes if he hadn’t grappled Ichor Hon and forced him into bare-handed combat.

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