"What? The mercenary team only sent one person? Good heavens, is he planning to challenge an entire squad by himself? This is utterly unbelievable!" the announcer's voice boomed dramatically across the arena.

As the announcer finished speaking, the entire competition venue erupted in an uproar.

"Has this red-haired fellow been kicked in the head by a donkey or squeezed by a door? Trying to take on a whole squad alone—he clearly overestimates himself! Does he think he's the Seventh Prince...?" a burly man in gray clothing said offhandedly.

"I agree. His mind must be a bit off. Why else would he dye his hair red? It's a dead giveaway that there's something wrong with him!" remarked a middle-aged woman beside him.

"Look at his frail frame, and then look at the three hulking brutes of the Berserker Squad. I’m afraid the moment the match begins, this red-haired guy will be torn to shreds by the opposition in less than ten seconds..."

The crowd's clamor continued, though almost everyone was denouncing Chen Feng for his hubris. Some were also complaining bitterly about the absence of any beautiful female contestants.

………………………………………………………………………

"What is your assessment?"

A deep, firm voice echoed from a luxurious private box. Anyone who heard it would recognize the speaker as His Majesty Suomen of the Rocky Empire.

"Reporting to Your Majesty, from my perspective, the Berserker Squad possesses formidable combat strength and are known for their ruthlessness. The youth fighting them is too slender; I fear the outcome will be dire for him!" stated a heavily armored guard, clasping his hands in salute. If the Seventh Prince were present, he would surely recognize the guard as Stanley, the First Imperial Protector, who held the cultivation of an Eighth-tier Battle Master!

"Slender?" His Majesty Suomen let out a soft laugh. "If you knew that this youth struck the energy testing wall with a punch yielding 59,800, and managed to remain inside Elder Yi’s specially designed sphere for twenty minutes, you wouldn't say that!"

Upon learning of the mercenary team's undefeated record, His Majesty Suomen had sent people to investigate Chen Feng’s background. All this information was duly recorded in the "Rookie Station" archives, making the investigation swift.

"What? 59,800?" Stanley’s mouth gaped wide enough to fit three eggs. "My last test score was only 45,000. How can a mere teenager like him..."

Halfway through his sentence, Stanley abruptly swallowed the word "possibly." To utter the word 'impossible' would imply doubting His Majesty's words, and doubting the Emperor was tantamount to desiring death.

His Majesty Suomen paid no mind to Stanley's lapse in decorum and casually added, "I didn't believe it either, initially. However, I heard that the Seventh Prince even sparred with him. He defeated the Seventh Prince with a single move, knocking him to the ground!"

"One move... defeated His Highness the Seventh Prince..." Stanley could no longer contain his shock. He swallowed hard and exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers, fixed on the slender youth standing proudly on the competition stage. He simply could not believe the news he had just heard.

The magic crystal ball clearly captured the red-haired youth's features. Although his young face was icy cold, he couldn't possibly look older than sixteen. To defeat the Seventh Prince, who was a dual cultivator of magic and martial arts at the Eighth-tier, before the age of sixteen—what kind of freak was this individual...? One must realize that the Royal Family had spared no expense on potions just to enhance the Seventh Prince's cultivation. His Highness's strength was essentially built upon mountains of gold. Did this youth possess similar resources?

The more he considered it, the less likely it seemed, and the more astonished he became. Stanley stood rooted to the spot, his fists involuntarily clenched, trembling slightly.

"I only hope we know where this youth comes from..." His Majesty Suomen sighed, fixing his gaze intently on the crystal ball, watching the impending, explosive battle about to unfold on the arena floor.

………………………………………………………………………

"Are you worried about him?" Judy’s sharp gaze was fixed on Angelisa.

"He... he is our teammate, after all. What if something happens to him?" Angelisa made no effort to hide the worry etched on her brow.

"What could possibly happen to him? Forget two Seventh-tier Battle Masters and one Eighth-tier; even if there were double that number, he could probably handle it. Relax," Judy said lightly. When Chen Feng saved her from the bandits, there were many bandits of Seventh and Eighth-tier cultivation, yet Bashin An had massacred them all without batting an eye. Seeing the lineup of the Berserker Squad, Judy felt no apprehension whatsoever.

Angelisa could scarcely believe her ears. Staring at Judy's confident expression, her face was filled with disbelief. "Are you serious? Has his cultivation reached Ninth-tier?"

"Ninth-tier?" Judy shook her head. "I don't know what realm his cultivation has reached, but I know for certain that even a Ninth-tier Battle Master would not fare well against him."

"To possess cultivation surpassing a Ninth-tier Battle Master before turning sixteen—how on earth did he train?" Angelisa was shocked, yet a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. "Doesn't this perfectly match the conditions Grandpa mentioned..."

<| Looking at the magic wall in the room, Bashin An was walking to meet his opponent. ... ……………………………………………………………………

"Haha... Big Brother, did you see that? They only sent a boy! It looks like the Mercenary Team wants to concede," laughed a gray-clad fighter from the Berserker Squad, who was a Seventh-tier Battle Master named Leonard.

The one addressed as Big Brother was the Eighth-tier Battle Master, Mosilu, who smiled faintly. "Indeed. We were a bit too rough in the preliminaries; perhaps we scared those two beautiful ladies from the Mercenary Team. Sending only a boy up means we can be gentle. After all, we are all men who cherish fair maidens. Even if we are a bit berserk, how could we bear to lay a hand on beautiful women..."

The remaining fighter in blue, Fikbo, also chuckled. "The beauties must be afraid we'll rip their clothes, so they didn't show up. This little kid will have to be the one we have fun with then."

Mosilu watched Chen Feng slowly approach the stage and said to Fikbo beside him, "You go up first and play with him a bit. Just knock him off the platform; don't be too violent. This is the final, after all; hundreds of thousands are watching!"

Fikbo wore a sinister grin, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. "I'll have a nice time playing with him..." With that, he slowly walked toward Chen Feng.

He had only gone halfway when he heard the other party's arrogant and cold voice ring out: "All three of you, come at once."

This voice was transmitted clearly to every spectator via the arena's magic transmission device, plunging the entire venue into sudden silence.

"Is this kid insane?" was the thought that echoed in everyone's mind.

"Hahahaha... this kid!" Fikbo burst into laughter. "One of me is more than enough to deal with you."

Saying this, his massive fist began to shimmer with a trace of Battle Qi. The muscles in his legs tensed, and with a sudden burst of power, he charged toward Chen Feng, moving as fast as a nimble rabbit.

"That guy..." Mosilu cried out upon seeing Fikbo's action. "Just knock him off the stage! Don't be so violent; don't you know that can kill someone? What an impulsive fool..."

However, before he could finish speaking, he suddenly saw the youth named Bashin An move. His entire body shot forward like a meteor.

"Not good..." he shouted urgently, immediately followed by Fikbo’s shrill, agonizing scream.

………………………………………………………………………

Seeing Fikbo rush over, Chen Feng didn't move an inch. "Almost there, faster, yes, right there!"

Outer Shadow Dance Dream Bullet!

One grab, one punch!

"Aargh..." Fikbo let out a cry of agony. Before he could land a single blow on Chen Feng, a bloody, gaping hole was torn open in his chest. Immediately following, his vision went black as he was smashed in the head by a fist.

Thump! His head instantly exploded like a smashed watermelon, scattering red and yellow matter everywhere.

Killed in a single move!

"Hmm, it seems the timing was right. I can indeed gain unexpected results. Just now, with the Dream Bullet move, I leveraged the momentum of his forward rush to achieve this effect," Chen Feng thought, noting his internal summary without the slightest tremor after killing an opponent.

"Fikbo..." Mosilu and Leonard cried out simultaneously. "We'll fight you to the death!"

The two charged forward in a frenzy. Having witnessed their long-time comrade perish before their eyes, their rage had stripped them of all reason.

"Two useless fools!" Chen Feng uttered softly. He suddenly exerted force with his feet, instantly appearing before Mosilu. He stopped abruptly, the power of cyclones swirling around the fingers of his right hand, making them resemble steel claws, carrying wisps of pale flame as he tore toward Mosilu's chest.

Reverse Flaying!

Rip... A sound of muscle and bone being peeled apart was heard. Mosilu, who was charging forward, was actually torn in half by Chen Feng's grasp!

Blood and viscera transformed into a crimson mist dancing in the air.

"Roar!" Chen Feng emitted a low growl, sounding satisfied with his recent experiment. Shifting his stance, he was instantly in front of Leonard and unleashed three consecutive strikes of the Sunflower Style.

Bang, Bang, Bang! Three light impacts followed. Leonard didn't even have time to scream before he was beaten into a pulp by Chen Feng's Sunflower strikes.

It took less than five seconds to kill all three opponents! Every kill was instantaneous and decisive. The manner in which the three members of the Berserker Squad died was horrifyingly brutal. The crowd in the stands, first shocked into disbelief, immediately erupted in frantic vomiting!

The youth high on the platform tore his opponents to pieces—which one was truly the Berserker Squad?

"This... this..." The announcer, after two successive cries of "This," found himself completely speechless.

"Did I win?" Chen Feng asked the announcer, posing a question that nearly broke the man.

If killing all the opponents didn't count as a win, what did?

"Won..." The announcer felt a surge of bile rising in his chest and, opening his mouth wide, finally couldn't hold back and threw up.

After retching, the announcer’s pale complexion gradually turned ruddy. As if suddenly enlightened, he slapped his forehead. "This is the first time in the history of the Rookie Selection Tournament that someone has died—and an entire squad at that..." (To be continued. For future events, please log on to wwwncom. More chapters available. Support the author, support legitimate reading!) .(Shortcut: ←) (Shortcut: Enter)