Stronger with More Jobs

Chapter 807: Chapter 321: Why Don’t You All Come at Me Together!?

A calm voice, like ice water thrown into a boiling oil pot.

Instantly ignited the dead-silent arena.

BOOM—!!!

After a brief stagnation.

Came a thunderous roar strong enough to overturn the dome.

Hundreds of thousands of spectators suddenly sprang from their seats.

Arms waving, faces flushed, shouting various hysterical cries, whistles and uncontrollable curses.

"What the fuck!!!"

"Awesome!!!"

"Crazy! Just fucking crazy!!!"

"Right in front of the Desolate Bone Corps, pulverizing their elite, and then asking if that’s all? Just who is this masked man?!"

"That slap... was loud enough, the Desolate Bone Corps’ face has been stomped into the mud today!"

"Hahaha! Thrilling! Haven’t seen such a thrilling spectacle in years!"

The massive wave of noise crashed against everyone’s eardrums, the air humming and trembling.

Countless gazes, with schadenfreude, focused intently on the figure gripping half a bloodstained bone mask on the third platform.

And...

Opposite the arena, the section reserved for the Desolate Bone Corps, one of the Ten Great Forces.

The Desolate Bone Corps area.

The atmosphere formed a stark contrast to the rowdy audience seats.

The ordinary members in the front row, dressed in uniform bone armor, exuding robust energy, now wore livid expressions, with bulging veins on their foreheads and grinding teeth.

Fang Qingyu’s careless remark.

Harshly pierced their pride.

"Bastard!"

"He’s courting death!"

"Cut him up!"

Low growls and curses passed in suppressed tones among the members, with many even gripping the weapons at their waists, glaring fiercely at the platform where Fang Qingyu stood.

However, their actions were limited to this.

No one dared to actually rush forward.

Because those seated in the front core area remained as steady as Mount Tai.

The leading figure, unusually tall, even while seated, resembling half an iron tower.

On his face, a bone-white mask made from a huge Life Ghost Skull.

Only two eyes were visible, deep and still as ancient wells.

His name was Gu Yan, one of the deputy leaders of the Desolate Bone Corps.

A Tier Three Martial Saint Peak elite.

Currently, Gu Yan’s face beneath the mask showed no expression.

Those well-like eyes revealed not a single ripple.

As if the shattering of Miao Zhe on stage and the humiliation that occurred were unworthy of attention.

"Heh..."

A low chuckle emanated from beneath Gu Yan’s mask.

He slightly turned his head, instructing a subordinate similarly masked and exuding a cold aura, in a tone revealing no emotion:

"Go, tell Shui Lu and the others to immediately register for sequential combat."

His voice wasn’t loud.

Yet it clearly overshadowed the disturbance behind him.

The previously restless Desolate Bone Corps members instantly quieted down.

Their eyes flickered with reverence and a subtly detectable excitement.

Shui Lu, Ti Gu, Duan Jin...

These names were infamous within the Desolate Bone Corps.

They weren’t blood siblings.

But due to their equally brutal and violent fighting styles, notorious for sadistically slaughtering opponents, they were collectively known as the Bone Group Massacre.

All three were Tier Two Peak Modified Martial Arts Masters.

And certainly not like Miao Zhe, who relied solely on brute force.

Each individually, in terms of strength, was leagues above Miao Zhe.

If Modified Martial Artists could register.

They’d have undoubtedly swept the tournament by now.

And... this sequential combat didn’t prohibit any Modified Martial Artists.

"Yes, deputy!"

The cold subordinate promptly bowed, accepted the order, and swiftly departed.

Gu Yan’s gaze returned to the center of the arena, at the Thunder Pattern Masked figure still holding the mask fragment.

In those deep eyes, an extremely subtle hint of amusement finally flickered.

"Interesting..."

He murmured, as if evaluating a novel toy.

"But that’s all there is to it."

...

On the stage.

Fang Qingyu’s lips curved slightly.

The bait was cast.

Next was to wait for the fish to bite.

Fang Qingyu flipped his wrist carelessly, and the half-bloodstained bone mask dropped with a snap.

Landing in the charred pit at his feet.

Among the shattered stones.

Then, he slowly lowered his arms, his hands naturally falling to his sides.

His gaze swept over the audience seating, which was boiling over, then across the other two platforms still engaged in fierce battles.

Finally.

Settled on the referee overseeing this platform.

The referee was a middle-aged man in a gray athletic outfit, the arena’s style.

"Referee."

Fang Qingyu’s voice conveyed through the mask, calm and unwavering, carried no discernible emotion.

"I apply for the next challenge as per the rules."

The referee calmly nodded at his words, then spoke into the intercom: "Platform three, Thunder Mask competitor requests to continue the challenge! Please arrange the next challenger promptly!"

As his words ended.

Buzz!

A figure exploded suddenly from the crowd beneath the platform.

So fast it left only a blurred afterimage in the air.

Instantaneously penetrating the force field light screen on the third platform!

Appearing like a teleportation on the opposite side of the platform, thirty meters away from Fang Qingyu.

Dust lightly scattered.

The newcomer stood firm.

A young man seemingly around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old.

Tall and well-proportioned, wearing a grey martial arts uniform washed to the point of fading, with a suppressed and restrained aura.

His face was ordinary, a type that would blend into a crowd and be hard to find.

Yet his eyes were exceptionally bright.

Above him, three deep red words clearly hovered.

[Martial Arts Grandmaster].

"It’s him?!"

"Damn! Shadowless Sword Chen Mo?!!"