Chapter 406: Tiger Drinks Until Blackout

Here's the edited translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

Ma Suo was stunned. What did this mean?

Seizing the moment of hesitation, Fante Xi quickly brought the wineskin to his mouth. The moment it touched his bloody, swollen lips, the pain made him grimace fiercely.

He simply tilted his head back, enduring the pain as he opened his mouth wide.

Glug, glug, glug…

The liquor poured straight down his throat, with no sign of swallowing. The two-jin wineskin was emptied in an instant.

Everyone watched in stunned silence. The scent of alcohol from the wineskin was unmistakable, yet no one could fathom why he was drinking at a time like this. Was there some kind of restorative elixir mixed in? But what kind of restorative elixir could possibly be blended with liquor?

The stadium fell dead silent, everyone curious about what this chubby guy was up to. Even Ma Suo simply stood and watched. The best restorative elixirs still needed time to take effect—battlefield elixirs were just stopgaps. As for potions that stimulated potential, forget the side effects—he wasn't done fighting yet!

Fante Xi polished off the wineskin in one swig and flung the empty container aside.

He pressed his hands against the ground, swaying unsteadily as he struggled to rise. But halfway up, his expression suddenly changed, turning solemn.

The entire arena tensed. After all, Rose had pulled off plenty of surprises so far. Ma Suo's brow twitched slightly—was something about to change?

"Ugh! Cough, cough, cough!"

Fante Xi, still on all fours, suddenly spewed a disgusting mess onto the ground. The sharp alcohol fumes blended with stomach-churning vomit stench filled the air, making him cough violently, tears streaming from his eyes.

Downing two jin of aged Mad Warrior liquor in one go—even the three legendary drinkers of Winterhold would be knocked flat, let alone Fante Xi, whose tolerance was far worse!

This bout of vomiting was so intense it seemed like the world was spinning. At this rate, he might collapse face-first into his own puddle of sick at any moment.

"Damn it…" Winnie covered her face, unable to bear watching. "I thought you gave him some wonder drug or something…"

But Wang Feng, seeing Fante Xi vomit, broke into a smile. "No tonic beats thirty-year aged Mad Warrior!"

Wang Feng watched Fante Xi closely. This specially prepared, enhanced Mad Warrior was meant for this exact moment. The odds of awakening were fifty-fifty, but it was worth a shot.

Meanwhile, the Sacred Temple disciples from West Peak in the stands erupted into raucous laughter.

They had thought the chubby guy was drinking some heaven-defying, life-saving elixir that could instantly heal his wounds—but no, it was just liquor! And he damn well drank himself sick!

"Total waste of time. Are you here to fight or to clown around?"

"Dumb as a post. If you can't fight, put on a show?"

"Ma Suo! Finish him!"

Ma Suo's lips curled in a cold smirk. What a joke—did he really think… But before the thought could fully form, that smirk froze on his face.

He was the closest to Fante Xi, a mere seven or eight meters away, and thus the first to sense the change.

It was as if time itself seemed to freeze. The rough, labored breathing from before had suddenly stopped. The frantic pounding of his heart had steadied. And more than that—the chubby guy, still on his hands and knees, facing his own puddle of sick, seemed to have abruptly entered a state of complete calm.

"The chubby guy stopped moving. Did he pass out?"

"Still putting on an act!"

Mocking jeers rose from the stands, but the senior observers in the stands couldn't help but darken their expressions.

Ma Suo felt an inexplicable surge of unease, as if sensing some overwhelming threat— As if a predator had marked him as prey from the shadows. But there was nothing around him—no other threat, no possible danger except for that battered, drunken wreck in front of him. So what was it?!

Ma Suo was growing restless, and the next second—

*Burp!*

The booze-soaked lardass who had been motionless on the ground suddenly shuddered and let out a belch.

A wave of alcohol fumes instantly filled the air, and then, Fanta Xi abruptly raised his head.

His face was flushed red, reeking of liquor, while tendrils of smoke seeped from his nose, mouth, and ears, as if they were about to catch fire.

But what was even more terrifying were his eyes—completely devoid of pupils, just a blank, bloodshot white, like a blind man who had suddenly regained sight after a thousand years!

Ma Suo was startled by his appearance and involuntarily took half a step back, but immediately felt ashamed of his own weakness.

"Cut the crap!" Ma Suo roared in fury. He had waited long enough—he had shown the utmost patience and the grace of Xifeng Holy Sanctuary. Whether this guy was wasted out of his mind or undergoing some transformation, it was time to finish him off for good!

His soul power surged violently, dark energy coiling around him as he lunged forward, channeling all his strength into his right elbow, half his body pressing down like a crushing force!

Knees rooted like earth, elbows striking like heaven.

*Celestial Wolf Devastation Strike!*

The distance was already close, and with a killing move unleashed right from the start, aimed at Fanta Xi, who was still half-kneeling on the ground, not fully risen—Ma Suo’s killer instinct flared. At this range, that fat bastard wouldn’t even get a chance to stand!

*Kill!*

The Celestial Wolf’s charge, unstoppable as a—

*Wham!*

A thick, meaty paw directly caught Ma Suo’s descending elbow.

The force of the Celestial Wolf Devastation Strike was terrifying, but the strength in that pudgy hand was even more shocking. Faced with such a devastating blow, the wrist barely made a dent before stopping dead.

"No fucking way!" Winnie gasped in shock and delight. Even if Old Wang had sworn up and down earlier, she wouldn’t have believed that two pounds of liquor could help Fanta Xi turn the tables. Yet now, it seemed that was exactly what was happening.

Ma Suo felt as though his strike had landed on some thick cushion—barely pressing down before being halted. Startled, he immediately tried to shift tactics, but before he could, the chubby hand gripping his elbow suddenly clenched its fingers.

*Snap!*

Ma Suo felt his entire elbow joint locked in a vise-like grip—completely immobile.

"The hell—?!" Where did this fat guy get such strength?! It was at least twice as strong as before!

Fuming and baffled, Ma Suo had no time to ponder the reason. The Ancient Fist’s Elbow Strike was pure offense, no defense! Rather than struggling to free his trapped elbow, he decided to double down on aggression!

Using the opponent’s grip as leverage, he pushed forward instead of retreating, shifting his center of gravity as his knees drove upward.

*Knee Strike—Earth Wolf Devastation!*

But before the full force of this killing move could erupt, the white-eyed fat man spun like a top, yanking Ma Suo’s elbow like a ragdoll, whipping him in a full circle through the air.

The terrifying pull and momentum shattered Ma Suo’s knee strike instantly. His entire body was flung uncontrollably, his eyes widening as the ground rushed toward his face.

*BOOM!*

The unforgiving metal floor of the arena met Ma Suo’s face in a brutal faceplant. In that single impact, his head spun wildly, stars bursting behind his eyes, ears screeching like feedback, and his bones howling like they’d snap any second.

Before he could even fully process the agony, his body was sent flying all over again—only to slam face-first before he even got airborne.

**Revised Translation:**

Still pounding him?

Poor Ma Suo barely had time to process his final thought before being knocked unconscious. It was a mercy he passed out—sparing him from the hell that followed.

With his eyes rolled back, Fantasi seemed to have entered the berserk state of a primordial beast. Ancient Fist Gang Elbow? Dark grappling techniques? Hard or soft styles? All just kids’ games!

Right now, Fantasi only understood one word—destruction!

Whirling a person like a ragdoll and slamming them into the ground wasn’t enough—he had to jump on top and stomp, stomp, stomp, as if trying to pulp his insides.

In just two or three seconds, Ma Suo was nearly beaten to pieces, about to be stomped into mincemeat…

"Stop!" Ma Tianci on the high platform was furious. His once-valiant son had suddenly been turned into a punching bag by that nobody, and now he was a breath away from death!

Unlike the Zhao Family, the Ma line had just one heir. The dignity and honor of the Xifeng Holy Sanctuary could be regained, but a son? He had only one!

**Boom!**

A blade of black light shot down from the platform like a rabid beast, its soul force burning like dark flames, transforming into a terrifying three-headed hellhound that charged straight at the berserk Fantasi!

"Bullshit! Zero fucking shame!" Winnie’s face twisted in rage.

That was a ghost-level expert! Saving someone was one thing, but attacking Fantasi?

Damn it! If this were at Rose, with Thunder Dragon and Karida around, this old fuck wouldn’t have the balls to act so arrogantly!

**"GRRRAHHH!"**

Facing the terrifying strike of a ghost-level expert, the berserk Fantasi showed no fear—in fact, fear wasn’t in his vocabulary. No matter who came at him, he pushed forward with both palms.

The feral aura of the Tai Chi Tiger manifested behind him, clashing head-on with the three-headed hellhound.

**Boom!**

The hellhound landed steadily, while the once-indomitable Tai Chi Tiger was sent flying.

Ma Tianci didn’t spare a glance for Fantasi, scooping up his son clinging to life with one hand while pulling out an extremely precious-looking potion with the other, dumping it down his gullet.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side—**thud, thud, thud, thud!**

Fantasi, after being blasted back over a dozen meters, didn’t collapse outright. Instead, he staggered back several steps before finally slamming ass-first into the dirt.

Winnie, Old Wang, and the others rushed forward, supporting the fallen Fantasi.

Fantasi looked shell-shocked by the terrifying strike, as if it had snapped him out of his berserk state. The whites of his eyes receded, replaced by a pair of bewildered pupils. His mouth was crooked, teeth uneven, but he didn’t seem to have suffered any fatal injuries—letting Winnie and Old Wang breathe a sigh of relief.

Fantasi’s sudden berserk reversal, the Xifeng Holy Sanctuary’s Martial Arts Dean’s abrupt intervention—each event was beyond anyone’s expectations. The shocks kept piling up, each wave crashing before the last had even settled.

And the scariest part? Ma Tianci had struck in fury. Even if it was a hasty, less-than-full-power attack, it was still from a ghost-level expert! The sheer might of his strike had even had the Holy Sanctuary disciples quaking in their boots. Yet… Fantasi had blocked it? Not only did he survive, but he didn’t even seem seriously injured!

The arena went dead silent as everyone gaped in disbelief.

Once they confirmed Fantasi was fine, Old Wang Squad wasn’t about to shut up.

Winnie glared and spat in Ma Tianci’s direction—she gave zero fucks about the Ma, Zhao, or any other family!

"Weren’t you the ones who said ‘a Holy Sanctuary disciple fears no death’? Weren’t you the ones who said ‘no rescues allowed’? What a shameless old bastard! Did those words just crawl back down your throat?" "Chill, chill," Old Wang held her back, loudly declaring, "Look at their style—they’ve always been snakes, just showing their true colors today. And besides, he’s ghost-level, after all."

"Pfft! Think ghost level’s so special? This mama’s got eight brothers, all ghost level!" Winnie flipped the middle finger with full swagger: "You ancient piece of trash, mark my words—this debt’s getting paid!"

"Mind your tongue! Xifeng is one of the Ten Great Holy Sanctuaries. At least save some face for them."

"Pfft! You earn respect, you don’t beg for it! What kinda bullshit ‘Ten Great’ is this? The headmaster’s promises are worth less than a fart!"

"Ah, this is normal drama. Cool your jets..."

Ma Suo was severely injured, and Ma Tianci across the way remained fixated on his son, ignoring their vulgar exchange—maybe not even hearing it. But their back-and-forth volleyed like a rehearsed act, trashing Xifeng’s reputation in minutes.

The Xifeng disciples in the stands flushed crimson, bursting into angry shouts.

When Wang Feng had intervened earlier, the crowd had jeered. Headmaster Zhao Feiyuan had indeed declared, *"Death comes when it comes—real Holy Sanctuary disciples don’t cower!"* Saving someone wasn’t the issue; Ma Tianci’s ghost-level strike was outright murderous. Had anything happened to Fan Texi, this would’ve blown up into a full-blown feud.

The combat arena was bedlam. On the high platform, Fu Changsheng’s expression was glacial, while Zhao Feiyuan’s face darkened. Finally, he stood.

"Silence!"

Zhao Feiyuan’s roar carried the weight of a peak ghost-level powerhouse. His soul power boomed like thunder, shaking the arena into instant quiet.

He glared at Wang Feng and Winnie. "Wang Feng, are you competing or not?"

"Damn right we are!" Old Wang grinned. "Score’s two to one—we ain’t done."

"Then return to your positions!" Zhao Feiyuan snapped. "Third round goes to you. Fourth round begins now!"

"Huh?" Old Wang geared up for chaos, eyes widening. "*Goes to us*? We won fair and square—unlike some spineless old hacks throwing ghost-level kill shots! This what Xifeng calls ‘great’?"

Engaging further would be idiocy. Zhao Feiyuan snorted and sat down.

Ignoring them was admitting defeat. This was Xifeng’s turf, and the match had to continue. Old Wang and Winnie took the win and backed off, leisurely helping Fan Texi down.

The Frost Spirits and Fire God Mountain crowds cheered. Fan Texi’s jaw was busted, his teeth gone, but the damage wasn’t critical—just exhaustion from berserking.

Yet he’d traded blows with a ghost-level expert. Winnie, having vented earlier, now burned with curiosity. "Old Wang, how’d Ah Xi get so damn strong drunk?"

"That’s a long story..." Old Wang smirked.

Why *Berserk Tai Chi Tiger*?

The true form had emerged once—during Fan Texi’s first awakening in Dragon City’s ruins. Facing an opponent like Ma Suo, he’d *annihilated* them. *That* was the *Tai Chi Tiger*’s real power.

But controlling it required ghost-level strength. Now, only unconsciousness could trigger it—severe injury plus *Berserk Martial Arts* stimulation equaled instant transformation.

Still incomplete, though. Only when he mastered it consciously would it be a true awakening.

Ma Suo was carted off. Xifeng disciples scrubbed the bloodstains away; the dark floor gleamed, erasing all traces.

Two to one. Match point—but Rose’s, not Xifeng’s.

Fan Texi’s exit drew concern from allies, while Xifeng’s disciples sat stiffly. The front rows, though—wealthy merchants and journalists—were raucous.

The merchants were here for spectacle and scouting. Holy Sanctuaries relied on their sponsorships—gateways for their kids into elite circles. Rose, struggling but promising, was a golden opportunity: modest investments now forged ironclad ties later.

The reporters? They *lived* for Rose’s drama. Their Rose-bashing articles were front-page gold. A loss would kill their cash cow.

Frankly speaking, whether it was the wealthy merchants hoping for a dark horse or the journalists fearing for their jobs, this crowd was probably rooting hardest for Rose and clearest-eyed about her real strength.

They’d always dismissed Rose as weak, chalking up those 3-0 wins to luck—but now they were facing one of the Top Ten, Xifeng...

For the fourth match, Xifeng Holy Sanctuary sent their fighter first. All eyes turned to the Xifeng team. Facing match point had them choking on tension, the disciples visibly anxious—until they saw the colossal figure standing like an unshakable war god among them, and everyone’s fears vanished in an instant.

Yes, they still had one of the Top Ten—their war god! The Eternal Spear, Zhao Ziyue!

Not a trace of panic showed on Zhao Ziyue’s face. With just a light flick of his toe, the gleaming Eternal Spear twirled halfway and snapped to his back.

No flashy techniques, no grand gestures—Zhao Ziyue simply strode onto the stage with deliberate steps. Yet each footfall seemed to reverberate through the hearts of everyone present, holding the whole arena in his grip.

"It’s the captain! The captain’s stepping in himself!"

"The Eternal Spear! The Eternal Spear!"