Chapter 266 - 111: Emperor’s Qi, The Fat Prize Was Snatched Away

Her hair hung loose, caked with grime and dried blood, matted together in clumps. Through the tangled mess, a terrifying, scar-covered face was faintly visible. Her arms, too, were riddled with wounds that refused to heal, constantly oozing blood.

"Is it... a young girl?"

Ye Ming frowned and stood up. After scrutinizing the figure, he could just barely make out that it was a girl.

She was much smaller than an average girl and, by her appearance, looked to be thirteen or fourteen at most. She was also utterly wretched and filthy.

He had first thought she was wearing a black robe, but a closer look revealed that her clothes were simply soaked through with blood, which had then dried and hardened into a solid crust.

It was impossible to know how long it had been since they were washed; whatever color the robes had originally been, they were now stained completely black.

"The age of the Ghost Race can’t be judged by their appearance..."

"If she weren’t so exhausted, and if the arena staff hadn’t drugged her with something like a Transformation Pill beforehand, she wouldn’t have been brought to this state."

"She’s likely fought several battles before this one and survived them all. But because of her appearance, no one was willing to bid on her, so they just kept making her fight until she’s on the verge of dying from exhaustion..."

Old Ghost said calmly.

Ye Ming nodded to himself and said, "What a pitiful creature. But she’s lucky she ran into me."

’So what should I do? Intervene directly? But the rules say outsiders can’t interfere until the fight is over, or they’ll be punished for provocation.’

He remembered a case where an Immortal Sect had discovered one of their expelled disciples had become an arena slave, forced to fight to the death for others’ entertainment. The Sect was furious, considering it a great loss of face, and had tried to stop the match.

But they ended up paying an extremely heavy price for it.

Not only did they have to apologize, but they also lost many of their masters.

Though Ye Ming wanted to intervene, fearing the Ghost Race girl would die in the arena, he didn’t know how.

"The Ghost Race has immense Life Force. She won’t die here," Old Ghost said calmly, offering his advice. "Once that girl recovers even a little strength, her opponent is doomed. When the fight is over, just say the word and buy her at auction."

Ye Ming breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down.

"What’s wrong, Junior Brother Zhang Yuan?" Liu Xue asked from beside him, her curiosity piqued by his behavior. "Do you feel sorry for her? Are you thinking of saving that condemned slave?"

Ye Ming sighed. "She’s a pitiful sight. Covered in wounds and still bleeding..."

Meanwhile, down in the arena, the small, blood-soaked figure lay at the base of a pillar, barely showing any signs of life. A large pool of blood spread out from under her, and her aura grew fainter and fainter.

Her opponent was a stout, brawny woman with a squat build.

Her expression was cold and cruel. She wielded a custom-made long whip; with each swing, the wind howled and the very Void trembled. A single lash on the ground would surely have cracked solid stone.

"You reek, you wretched thing! Weren’t you acting so high and mighty just a moment ago? You nearly killed me. What’s this, playing dead now?"

She sneered at the sight, then whipped her long lash through the air. CRACK! It landed squarely on the girl’s back, instantly tearing open flesh and drawing more blood.

The robes, already pitch-black, were now soaked with a fresh, foul-smelling stench.

Seeing this, the spectators in the surrounding stands could no longer hide their excitement and began to cheer in unison.

Many people relished such cruel and brutal scenes. It gave them a thrilling release, as if satisfying an innate bloodlust.

"Still not moving? Are you a mute? Can’t even let out a grunt..."

"Fine, then. Don’t blame me for what comes next."

Seeing her opponent lying motionless on the ground, her breath as faint as a silken thread and blood pooling around her, the woman’s expression turned cold. She already saw the girl as dead. Raising her whip, she prepared to end her life.

"Stop."

But just then, a clear voice suddenly rang out from the stands above the arena.

The woman, poised to strike, froze at the sound and instinctively glanced toward its source.

"Who’s that?"

The spectators, who were just getting worked up and their blood pumping, were displeased by the interruption. They all turned to see where the voice had come from.

The man in charge of the arena frowned at the sound. Who could be so audacious as to openly defy the rules of the arena? ’Did they have a death wish?’

’Are they not afraid of the consequences?’

He looked over, ready to bellow a reprimand. However, when he saw the white-robed figure seated next to the woman who had shouted, he hastily swallowed his words. "Y... Young Master?"

The woman who had called out wore the wide robes of a handmaiden, but despite her attire, she was quite beautiful.

However, the one who truly captured everyone’s attention was the man in white robes sitting beside her, his eyes lowered as he sipped his tea.

His features were handsome and refined, and he possessed an extraordinary air.

The hand holding the teacup was like flawless jade—fair and slender, exuding an aura of nobility and refined elegance.

Though his expression was casual, it held a look of innate superiority, as if he were surveying the world from on high.

Many in the crowd, who had been annoyed by the interruption, immediately changed their expressions upon seeing the white-robed man’s face and recognizing him. The angry words on the tips of their tongues were hastily swallowed.

"Who is that? How arrogant, to just halt the match like that!"

Many newcomers to the Imperial Capital Jingyang City who were baffled by the scene soon understood, thanks to the whispered explanations of those around them. Their expressions changed, and they too quickly fell silent.