Chapter 453: Witchcraft Forbidden

Being stared at by over fifty thousand spectators in the arena was nerve-wracking enough for many Holy Sanctuary disciples, let alone being scrutinized by hundreds of Ghost-level experts at close range. The pressure was indescribable—just standing firm would already be a testament to one's mental fortitude. Yet, not a trace of tension could be seen on Wang Feng's face. He followed behind An Nanxi at a leisurely pace, calmly meeting the gazes of the various dignitaries and powerhouses with a smile. To his surprise, he spotted quite a few familiar faces.

Aaron, the Valiant Sword of the Duchy of Demacia; the Ice Spirit Duchy’s representative, Abuda Zhebie… And of course, Clara and the Old Sea Lion Soraka seated in the second section. Both tacitly avoided greeting him openly, but as Wang Feng passed by Clara, she subtly winked at him, sending a come-hither look his way.

This flirty fish-girl… Wang Feng chuckled inwardly. Just then, an elderly beastman from a nearby seat nodded at him with a smile. Wang Feng returned the gesture with a slight bow. Judging by the man’s attire, he could roughly guess his identity—this was likely the Grand Elder of the Southern Beast Tribe, the oldest figure Wang Feng had ever encountered aside from Oscar. Rumor had it he was already over a hundred and thirty years old, an exceptionally advanced age even among the many experts of the Nine Heavens World, yet his complexion remained remarkably vibrant.

Further ahead, even more familiar faces appeared—Gui Zhicai from Darkmoon Island, the renowned but previously unseen Canglan Duke from the Nine Gods, Hei Wukai, Lucky Heaven…

Old Hei grinned broadly at Wang Feng, while Lucky Heaven remained, albeit behind her aloof mask, though she didn’t shy away from meeting his gaze. Her bright eyes sparkled with interest and curiosity, tinged with a hint of amusement, as if reminding Wang Feng that he still owed her a "reasonable request."

Beside her sat Long Jing of the Nine Gods and the Holy City’s Holy Son. These two were easy to distinguish—their expressions and postures spoke volumes. The Holy Son exuded youthful vigor, approachability, and magnanimity, while Long Jing appeared far more casual, lounging in his seat as he studied Wang Feng with keen interest.

What others didn’t know, he certainly did. No matter how Thunder Dragon tried to conceal it, Wang Feng was that pawn under the Fifth Prince Long Xiang—codename 18. By the time of Dragon City, this information was no longer a secret among the Nine Gods’ inner circle. Yet this was just a pawn, the most insignificant cog in Long Xiang’s intelligence network. Who could have imagined he possessed such immense potential? His astonishing talent in runes could perhaps be attributed to Thunder Dragon’s camouflage, but his battle against Tianzhe Yifeng? That was no act. And yet…

Long Jing’s gaze lingered on Wang Feng’s face. From the moment he stepped onto the stage, facing the scrutiny of hundreds of Ghost-level experts and dignitaries, he remained composed and unflinching. Such poise was rare even among the younger generation’s elite.

Talent, intellect, temperament… Such a prodigy should have belonged to the Nine Gods. What a pity that a single oversight had rendered him beyond their reach!

Long Jing’s sentiments were likely shared by all the assembled powerhouses. Even Fu Changkong’s eyes held a newfound appreciation for Wang Feng. A genius who masqueraded as a Spirit Beastmaster but was, in truth, a top-tier Witch—and one who had remained patient and low-key, with extraordinary composure. Thunder Dragon had truly mentored an exceptional disciple. Enviable, indeed.

The seat of honor belonged to Fu Changkong, but Wang Feng first bowed slightly to the side. "Headmaster, your disciple Wang Feng has arrived."

"Good, good, good!" Hawkland was practically swelling with pride. Just look at Wang Feng—always knowing what mattered most. Usually unreliable, but when it counted, he was the picture of propriety!

He’d been sitting in the seat of honor for quite some time, yet few had truly acknowledged him. Everything revolved around Fu Changkong, reducing Hawkland to a mere backdrop. But now, with the spotlight on Wang Feng, a single "Headmaster" had instantly shifted the balance, placing Hawkland at the center of attention. Truly, nothing beat having a standout disciple from one’s own academy!

"Wang Feng," Hawkland began, pausing briefly as his earlier frustrations melted away. He smiled at Fu Changkong. "Old Fu, as a guest, I won’t overstep. You should explain the specifics."

Fu Changkong offered a faint smile and concisely outlined the issue with the soul energy shield. "The destructive potential of Witchcraft needs no elaboration. The choice is yours, Wang Feng. If you’re confident in controlling the range of your spells, the match can proceed immediately. If not, I suggest postponing until tomorrow."

"All this fuss over *that*? You’ve been deliberating for so long just for this?"

Wang Feng’s tone immediately drew frowns from the surrounding headmasters.

Hawkland, however, felt as though bathed in spring breeze. Teacher and student, united in purpose, could overcome any obstacle. Wang Feng’s unwavering tone suggested he already had a solution—and Hawkland trusted that, given Wang Feng’s brilliance, it would undoubtedly favor Rose Academy.

"Such arrogance for one so young!" Zhao Feiyuan said coldly. "Wang Feng, your Witchcraft instructor surely taught you on day one that it’s a double-edged sword—never underestimate its dangers! Celestial Disaster Meteor is a fourth-order spell. From what I saw earlier, you were already struggling to maintain control. With the barrier intact, it was manageable. But now, unprotected, the lives of tens of thousands in this arena rest in your hands. As a Holy Sanctuary disciple, the safety of the League of Blades’ citizens must come first!"

Wang Feng shook his head helplessly. A master of veiled criticism, this one—impeccable in his posturing, and utterly hyperbolic. True, fourth-order spells were formidable, and injuries might occur if power spilled over, but fatalities? With so many experts present, that was laughable. If energy truly went astray, none of them would stand idle.

Still, he understood their game. "What exactly are you suggesting, elder? That I duel while simultaneously restraining my spells to avoid collateral damage? That’s asking the impossible."

The crowd murmured in agreement. A wizard facing a Martial Artist required full concentration. To fight while worrying about spell radius? That wasn’t a match—it was suicide.

"Wang Feng is right. An Nanxi, as referee, how can you enforce such an unfair rule?" Hawkland wasn’t a fool either. The White-Haired Bull Demon’s straightforward nature made him quick to rally allies.

But An Nanxi remained impassive. "As referee, I cannot intervene in your negotiations."

Hawkland was taken aback, while those around him smirked. How amusing—did he really think others would play along? In an impromptu match like this, everyone sought advantage. Fairness was a luxury, especially on the Sky Peak’s home turf.

Zhao Feiyuan sneered. "If this won’t work and that won’t work, then wait for the soul crystal barrier to be repaired. That’s the fairest solution. Unless Rose insists on gambling with innocent lives by forcing the match today?"

Hawkland’s chest tightened with frustration. His silver tongue dominated Rose’s Rune Department debates, but here, it was woefully outmatched. He sensed a scheme but couldn’t pinpoint it. What were they plotting?

Now came the test of influence. Most present were Sky Peak’s guests, and they swiftly sided with the host. The fairest course was indeed to wait for the barrier’s repair. Some even taunted Hawkland so viciously he nearly lost his temper.

"Wang Feng, you decide!" Hawkland finally conceded. The kid was Ghost-level now—surely he had a plan. Better to control his power than delay until tomorrow. Too many things could go wrong overnight. Sky Peak’s tricks were endless. They’d never anticipated the match unfolding like this. Given time to regroup, they’d devise countless ploys by dawn.

"Everyone, you seem to have misunderstood." Wang Feng interrupted the debate. He paused, glancing at Sky Peak’s headmaster and the outspoken Zhao Feiyuan, then said coolly, "What I meant was… it’s just a tiebreaker match. Nothing major. If Witchcraft's too dangerous to control, then I just won't use it at all."

As soon as the words fell, the surroundings instantly fell silent... Hawkland's expression twisted in an instant...

No, no witchcraft? Was Wang Feng being sarcastic? Joking?

Hawkland stared at Wang Feng in disbelief, but found no trace of jest in his eyes. Not just him—the nearby Holy Sanctuary Disciples, Lucky Heaven, and Long Jing, who were closest, also couldn't believe their ears.

A wizard daring to say he wouldn’t use witchcraft in battle? What else could he do? Sleepwalk through the match?

"Bold!" Fu Changkong suddenly slapped his thigh. Though he had faith in Ye Dun, this was an unexpected delight: "To treat our Sky Dome Holy Sanctuary with such disregard, truly, heroes emerge from the young! I’m looking forward to this fight!"

"Spirited!" After a brief pause, Zhao Feiyuan burst into laughter: "Wang Feng, you said it yourself. All the principals and distinguished guests here are witnesses. What if you use witchcraft during the fight?"

"Breaking the rules naturally means forfeiting," Lao Wang chuckled. "Is there even a need to ask?"

"Good! Then the match will start—"

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" Hawkland clutched his chest, his composure instantly shattered.

A wizard fighting a Martial Artist—with a clear advantage in cultivation—but not using witchcraft? What the hell was this? Were they supposed to tickle the opponent with little fists?!

Poor Lao Huo. Last time, he was so angered by the Holy Sanctuary's Light report that he had a heart attack. He’d barely recovered, and now it felt like another one was coming. Had Wang Feng lost his mind? Holy hell, he’d seen reckless people, but never this reckless! This was outright betrayal!

He swallowed hard. He’d been frantically signaling Wang Feng earlier but got no response. Though he couldn’t tell if the kid had lost it, this concerned Rose’s fate—he couldn’t let him act recklessly. With barely-contained fury, he glared at Fu Changkong and Zhao Feiyuan. The earlier elegance was long gone. If Lao Huo knew how to curse, he’d have dragged their ancestors into it by now: "You two, have you no shame? Two esteemed principals ganging up on a junior disciple—do you even have faces?"

Fu Changkong smiled faintly, ignoring him. Zhao Feiyuan, however, laughed loudly: "Principal Hawkland, as a dignified leader, how can you resort to public insults? That’s unbecoming. Everyone here is a witness—neither Principal Fu nor I forbade him from using witchcraft. Wang Feng said it himself. If you want to blame someone, blame your own disciple! Accusing us of scheming is baseless and absurd!"

"What kind of principal is this? Even a Holy Sanctuary Disciple speaks with more responsibility." The principal of Londom's Holy Sanctuary chuckled. "This time, I support Wang Feng. What a hell of a kid—far more daring than his principal. Let’s wait and see. Young man, good luck!"

Hawkland slumped into his chair, his mind blank. It was over.

A faint smirk curled on Wang Feng’s lips. If you were going to slap someone in the face, you might as well do it thoroughly.

………………

"One additional match—free combat! Wang Feng versus Ye Dun! Both fighters, enter the arena!"

After a long wait, when head referee An Nanxi announced the final decision, the entire venue erupted.

Rose’s supporters were shocked and overjoyed, cheering wildly, while Sky Dome Holy Sanctuary’s supporters erupted, unable to believe their ears.

Wang Feng? The terrifying wizard who defeated Tianzhe Yifeng and mastered five witchcraft spells—a monster who transcended the scope of Holy Sanctuary Disciples! Even if Ye Dun was strong, he was still merely talented. What could a Tiger Peak possibly do against him?

A draw had been forced, yet they were giving Rose an opening to win. If there had to be an additional match, it should’ve been the sixth fighter’s turn! Sky Dome had plenty of experts—pick one from the crowd, and surely they could crush Rose’s remaining beastman! Why make Ye Dun fight Wang Feng? A Tiger Peak against a ghost level—wasn’t that just suicide?!

This was blatantly rigged against Sky Dome Holy Sanctuary! Damn it, in Blade City, on Sky Dome Holy Sanctuary’s home turf, could they really be bullied and manipulated by Rose?!

"Objection! Protest!" Some Sky Dome supporters immediately cried out. "The additional match should be the sixth fighter’s turn! Why should Wang Feng, who’s already fought, get to go again?!"

"Haha, Sky Dome’s panicking now! Finally realizing how badass our President Wang Feng is? Finally scared? Too late!"

"This isn’t fair!" another Sky Dome supporter shouted. "Forcing a Tiger Peak to fight a ghost level—what kind of logic is that?! The opponent should field that sixth beastman! Sky Dome has plenty that could wipe the floor with him!"

"Hah!" Rose’s supporters shot back. "Was it fair when your ghost-level Amogan fought our Tiger Peak Winnie? Don’t be so two-faced!"

"How is that the same? Wang Feng already won one match as a ghost level! Does he get to win another? If ghost levels can fight endlessly, why bother with five-man matches? Just pick the strongest and steamroll all other Holy Sanctuaries!"

"Exactly! This isn’t a Holy Sanctuary ranking—it’s an individual ranking! Using this to decide the entire Holy Sanctuary’s standing—we won’t accept it!"

Some Sky Dome supporters felt aggrieved, but more saw it as unfair. It wasn’t just about a Tiger Peak fighting a ghost level—it was about a ghost level trying to fight twice, with the second match against a Tiger Peak! And this was a crucial match determining Holy Sanctuary rankings! This was absolutely unacceptable!

Why? The Zenith Holy Sanctuary could have easily picked a strong fighter to face that beastman! Rules and privileges—things Zenith Holy Sanctuary had always taken for granted—were now being enjoyed by others today...

A deafening buzz instantly erupted throughout the arena. Tens of thousands of spectators hooted and hollered, while the excited shouts of the Temple Disciples mixed with the venting rage of Zenith supporters, who hurled paper scraps, small flags, and all sorts of trash toward the Rose stands. The scene nearly descended into chaos, devolving into complete pandemonium in an instant.

"Notes! Notes, stay here!" Mo Tong was instantly hyped. This kind of frenzied atmosphere was exactly his favorite. Taking care of the wounded at the passageway? That wasn't his thing—Notes could handle that. As a big shot, he belonged on the frontlines of the stands, ready to battle those scoundrels daring to throw trash at the Rose section! With Wang Feng and the others fighting on stage, how could Mo Tong just sit idle? Taking on fifty thousand? That was the stuff of Mo Tong’s dreams!

"Mo Tong, don’t go!" Notes shouted desperately. The scene was chaotic enough as it was. She could see Famier and Su Yue struggling to calm the Rose supporters. If Mo Tong charged in, wouldn’t he end up brawling with everyone in seconds?

But how could Notes stop him? Mo Tong turned a deaf ear, already slipping away like a shot. "I’m off!"

Boom!

Mo Tong unleashed his spirit energy, charging out like a duelist—only to be abruptly halted the next second.

Slap!

A large hand casually grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, yanking him back mid-charge and lifting him like a misbehaving kitten.

Li Fusu released him with indifference, his tone cool. "Don’t cause trouble for my sister’s Rose, kid."

Being stopped was one thing, but being humiliated like this—grabbed by the neck—sent Mo Tong into a fury. He clenched his fists and turned around, only to feel the world darken before him. A terrifying shadow loomed, its towering figure and pitch-black eyes gazing down at him like a god observing an insignificant ant, radiating a murderous aura.

Gulp...

Even the fearless Mo Tong couldn’t help but swallow hard before coughing awkwardly. "Ahem! Uh... Notes? Notes, where are you?"

"Silence!" A deep voice, amplified by spirit energy, reverberated across the arena.

It was Head Referee An Nanxi, who had remained invisible throughout the match. But with this single utterance, she instantly suppressed the entire crowd’s clamor.

A terrifying aura surged from An Nanxi’s petite, white-haired figure, making her presence loom large in the minds of every spectator. "On this battlefield, the word ‘unfair’ has never existed!"

The White-Haired Bull Demon—once a hero who had reached the Ghost rank! Though age had dulled her once-overwhelming stamina, pushing her into the background where she usually maintained a gentle demeanor, when her temper flared, it was more than enough to intimidate any troublemaker.

The oppressive aura forced countless voices into silence. None dared defy her. Zenith supporters could only fume with frustration—wasn’t this their home turf? Why was the referee siding with outsiders?

"Now announcing the match rules!" An Nanxi declared coldly. "Due to the destruction of the arena’s protective barrier, Witchcraft is prohibited in this battle. Violators will be immediately disqualified!"

The moment her words fell, the previously buzzing arena plunged into pin-drop silence. Everyone’s jaws dropped in unison.

No Witchcraft? Ye Dun was a Martial Artist—he didn’t even know Witchcraft! This restriction was clearly aimed at Wang Feng, the actual wizard!

A sudden reversal. The Rose supporters, who had been celebrating moments ago, were now floored.

Forbidding a wizard from using Witchcraft—are you kidding me? Was there anything more shameless? Anything more unfair? Had Zenith Holy Sanctuary gone completely nuts?!