SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS - Chapter 1047 - 1047: Playing Around!

Her breathing grew heavier. She fought with the desperation of someone who had been promised a fortune for a single kill. Poison mist seeped faintly from her gauntlets, corroding small holes into the stones they touched.

Kent’s gaze cooled. With one sweeping motion, his blade met her claws in a full-force clash. The impact cracked the ground beneath them, sending dust spiraling into the air.

When the dust cleared, Viperclaw staggered back, a deep gash along her side, blood dripping steadily. Her legs trembled, but her eyes still burned with hatred.

“You… why aren’t you finishing me?” she spat.

Kent sheathed his sword. “Because you’re just a pawn in someone else’s game. Live long enough to realize it.”

For a moment, silence hung between them. Then she stepped back, one hand pressing to her wound, and with a sharp whistle a giant spirit hawk swooped down from the clouds. She leapt onto its back and vanished into the horizon without another word.

Outside, the crowd was split.

“He let her go? Fool!”

“Women are weak fighter, I know it!”

“No… that’s worse for her. She failed. The ones who sent her won’t forgive it.”

“Hmph! Still weakness. Mercy will get him killed.”

In the gambling houses, the elders’ smiles faltered. Their first hired blade had failed—and their prey was still walking free, collecting treasures.

Kent turned away, the wind ruffling his hair. The Bandit sniffed toward the distant purple mist once more, and his calm voice broke the quiet.

“Come, we’ve wasted enough time. There are still treasures waiting.”

They rose into the sky once more, leaving behind only faint traces of blood on the broken stones—proof that, for today, the hunter had been spared by the prey.

—

The treasure realm’s sky glowed in shifting hues—crimson clouds in the west, a pale jade mist rolling from the north. Kent was calmly plucking a stalk of Nine-Star Violet Spirit Grass from the roots of an ancient stone, the One-Eyed Bandit crouched beside him like a patient sentinel.

Somewhere beyond the hills, faint ripples of spiritual qi stirred in unison—multiple cultivators moving at high speed. The Bandit’s golden eye flicked eastward, nose twitching.

Kent smirked faintly. The rats finally took the bait.

—

Outside the realm,…

“They’ve received the exact coordinates—our inside men will box him in this time.”

“Hmph, let’s see him hide behind that pet now. When his corpse appears, the bets will be ours.”

“Make sure to leak this scene—everyone should see how pathetic he is before we crush him.”

The first silhouettes broke through the mist. Five disciples—each bearing different clan emblems—fanned out in a crescent, cutting off Kent’s retreat. Two more landed behind him, forming a complete net.

The lead man, a burly cultivator with a serpent-scale spear, sneered. “Kent King. End of the road.”

Kent’s eyes darted between them, his expression deliberately stiffening. His sword hand trembled slightly—enough for the onlookers beyond the scrying mirrors to notice.

“I… I don’t want trouble,” he said, taking a step back. “I’m just collecting herbs.”

“Then drop everything you’ve found, kneel, and maybe we’ll spare you,” one of them mocked.

Kent glanced at the Bandit, then at the horizon. Without warning—he turned tail and ran.

The scrying screens lit up across the viewing platforms.

“Hah! Did you see? He didn’t even swing his sword!”

“Coward! All that earlier arrogance was just luck and his pet.”

“Bet against him next round—he’ll be gone the moment things get serious.”

At the Golden Rat Gambling House, the clerk grinned like a vulture. “Excellent… exactly the image we need. Increase the anti-Kent pool for the next round. The payout will be delicious.”

—

Inside the realm, Kent raced low over the treetops, weaving through jagged rock spires and twisting valleys. The disciples gave chase, shouting insults and threats, hurling long-range qi strikes that shattered the branches just behind him.

The Bandit’s golden eye gleamed as it tugged lightly at his sleeve, pointing toward a canyon to the south. Kent adjusted his flight, making sure to glance back often, keeping his face pale and eyes wide—perfectly selling the act of a man fleeing for his life.

“Run, little rabbit!” one pursuer laughed.

“Let him tire himself out—his treasures will be ours soon enough.”

But deep in Kent’s gaze, hidden beneath the mask of fear, a spark of calculation burned.

Let them believe. Let them feed the pot themselves. In the next round, I’ll take it all back—with interest.

The chase thundered on, dust clouds rising in their wake, while far outside the realm the gamblers’ greed swelled exactly as Kent had planned.

–

The chase was still raging through the treasure realm—seven furious disciples tearing after Kent, their qi blades slicing the air. Kent’s robes fluttered wildly, his figure weaving like a frightened hare.

The One-Eyed Bandit clung to his shoulder, still twitching its nose toward hidden pockets of treasure along the way, but Kent ignored them for now, keeping the act flawless.

Just as the lead pursuer roared, “You’re dead, Kent King—!”

A deafening hum shook the air.

From the heavens, a vast golden array unfolded, its runes spinning like an unsealed sun. A pillar of blinding light descended, engulfing every disciple at once.

Outside the realm, onlookers shielded their eyes from the sudden flare on the scrying screens.

“What the—?!”

“Already?!”

“Impossible! They were just about to kill him!”

When the light faded, the scene had changed completely. The disciples who had been pursuing Kent were sprawled on the white-marble platform of the Phoenix Range arena, coughing and swearing.

And then… Kent appeared.

Not a scratch. Not a torn sleeve. Not even a speck of dust.

The One-Eyed Bandit sat smugly on his shoulder, as if mocking the exhausted hunters who had tried to corner him.

The crowd erupted—not in cheers, but in curses and disbelief.

“Unfair! He didn’t even fight!”

“This… this lucky bastard! How can he keep surviving like this?!”

“I bet twenty thousand mana crystals he’d die this round!”

At the Silver Spear Gambling House, the manager’s face twitched violently. “He… came out unscathed?! Do you know how much we just lost in hype value?!” The room filled with angry mutters and slammed fists.

—

High above the platform, Elder Feng’s voice rang out, carried by spiritual qi:

“The third round is complete! Bring forth the treasures collected by the surviving disciples. Rankings will be determined by total value and rarity!”

Servants in silver robes moved swiftly, setting up jade tables to hold the finds. One by one, disciples stepped forward, emptying their storage rings and bags.

Piles of spirit herbs gleamed under the sunlight—Seven-Colored Jade Orchids, Dragon-Blood Ginseng, Moonlight Crystal Ore, and more.

Gasps rose from the crowd at every rare find. The gamblers, still seething, now leaned forward to see if Kent’s haul was at least as disappointing as his display.

–

Thank You!