Chapter Thirty-Eight: Duel to the Death

Gongsun Ce’s mechanical gauntlet could be loaded with fine metal, firing it as bullets—a fact both sides were well aware of before the battle began.

For this reason, the Dragon Cultist was utterly unguarded against it. He had checked the site beforehand, ensuring all materials suitable as ammunition were locked inside the factory. The young man who had rushed onto the construction site at the outset had no means to replenish his gauntlet.

Yet now, he had been hit by bullets. The injuries from the earlier collision with the sand truck erupted at once, causing the man to spit blood.

A cough escaped him.

In the real world, as a master of the Desolate Aspect, such an attack would never truly harm him. But this was the world he had so eagerly desired, and the rules of the Shadow Duel greatly suppressed his own powers. At this moment, though Xu Junyi possessed a body far stronger than his opponent’s, he could still be wounded by methods that would once have posed him no threat.

It was the youth’s wild words that had distracted him; Xu Junyi had been caught off guard by such a ridiculous attack. Yes, that much was clear, but what he couldn’t fathom was—

Xu Junyi roared angrily, “Where did you get the bullets?!”

“Where? From the truck you just smashed. You didn’t seem to notice—the cargo that vehicle carried was only partly construction sand for cover…”

The grey-haired youth reached down, scooping a handful of gravel from the ground.

Xu Junyi watched as sand slipped from his trembling hands, the ochre grains interspersed with black particles.

Iron sand—obtained by crushing ore—used as ballast in concrete.

“That’s—!”

Gongsun Ce habitually attempted to push up his glasses, but now the frames were twisted metal, and he himself was nearly out of strength.

“It’s iron sand. A few grains are useless, but in large quantities, they can serve as ammunition for the gauntlet. This isn’t a trap—just something you overlooked, material already present in the environment.”

Without clear vision, his enemy appeared only as a vague silhouette.

He could barely discern the color of clothes; finer details were lost to him. That those two sand bullets hit their mark owed partly to his opponent’s lapse in reason—and perhaps a stroke of luck.

In a way, this was a blessing. Unable to see the enemy’s expression, he could speak provocations without concern.

Gongsun Ce smiled, battered and ugly. “Do you regret it now? Didn’t expect such loopholes, did you? If you’d known, you wouldn’t have manifested—should’ve fought on with your other abilities, is that what you’re thinking?”

He laughed, awkward and miserable.

“Rest assured, your decision wasn’t wrong. Only within your so-called fair duel could you have fought this long… cough!”

Even as blood sprayed from his lips, even as his face was smeared with gore, he showed his foe a confident smile.

“In a real-world fight, you’d have been defeated by me long ago!”

The Dragon Cultist leader let out a beastly roar.

“I won’t listen to another word of your nonsense!!”

The brawny man charged forward.

Gongsun Ce stood his ground, firing a third sand bullet.

The iron sand was scattered mid-flight by the man’s punch, black dust billowing in the air.

“Time to wake from your delusions, Xu Junyi.” His tone was part provocation, part persuasion. “Cough… You cling to your own truths, refusing to open your eyes to reality right in front of you!”

“You brat, you haven’t even studied the Law of Impermanence—don’t pretend to know anything!”

The fourth sand bullet was fired at close range; Xu Junyi easily dodged it.

The middle-aged man lifted his leg in a kick; Gongsun Ce rolled desperately across the ground, barely evading.

“The vessel for your abilities is the dueling ground; your wish is for a fair battle. Yet from start to finish, the rules are set by you alone. You think beating someone in a brawl gives you the right to command them? Don’t kid yourself—it’s just violence, pure and simple! There’s no fairness in your duel, only your aversion to powers and your own one-sided fantasy!”

“Silence!”

The fifth bullet was never fired.

Xu Junyi raised his thick right leg, kicking at Gongsun Ce’s head.

He had no choice but to shield his face with both hands. Predictably, the youth was sent flying several meters. His left arm bone surely broken, he could no longer even support his right arm to fire.

Human limbs could bend at such strange angles? Incredible—he found himself pondering such things even now, proof that something was wrong in his head.

“When your opponent uses cunning, you scorn it as petty tricks! When your true motives are exposed and you can’t refute it, you shut people up like a child! Why are you in such a sorry state?”

The youth kept speaking—about the powers he’d witnessed, about the enemy before him.

“Because you know it yourself… You’re more aware than anyone that your manifested world is meaningless, just as you know that even if you summon the dragon, no one will be saved!”

“Damn it, I told you to shut up!!”

A wild kick sent Gongsun Ce floating like ragged cloth.

“Die! Just die already!”

Another furious punch smashed the youth into a sand pile meters away.

The enraged man used no technique—just brute force. Such power could easily kill a man, or at the very least render him unconscious. Under such heavy blows, there was no reason for his enemy to rise again. The youth should already be dead.

Yet—

“Heh… Your punches and kicks hurt less than a college girl’s!”

“…!”

A violation of all logic.

An impossible event.

The grey-haired youth, battered and broken, his arms shattered, lacking any means to resist, stood again.

Xu Junyi couldn’t help but shout, “You have no chance left!”

“Is that so.”

“You’ve lost!”

“Is that so.”

“At this point, why are you still trying to stop me?!”

He looked as if a breeze could topple him, as if he could barely draw another breath.

Still, the youth stood. Dragging his limp arms, he stumbled forward, step by step toward his enemy.

He began to speak, his voice so faint it nearly vanished in the wind.

“…Even if I fail here, things won’t change too much.”

“You?!”

“Miss Alice will fight you again… If she loses, then Shiyu will be your opponent, Miss Qin might come, and that annoying man… And others I don’t know, lurking in the shadows for their own reasons, unwilling to get involved.”

Step by step, he advanced.

Toward an invincible foe.

“There are many, many people in the City of the Sky—someone will always come to stop you. But what if they fail? What if they don’t make it in time? You said those who lose in this duel must obey your commands. I’m strong… Even if it’s only a one-in-ten-thousand chance, with my help, you might really succeed… What danger will the city face then?”

In truth, he had entered this chaos for the sake of that one-in-ten-thousand chance of a “Dragon Summoning.”

Now, it was the same.

To prevent even the slightest chance of that outcome, he had to stake everything.

Gongsun Ce spoke with unwavering resolve: “I can’t bear to see so many lives lost, even if it’s only a one-in-ten-thousand chance… So I must stop you here… Even if losing here means dying in the real world too, I’ll risk my life to stop you!!”

The middle-aged man was struck dumb.

He no longer knew what to say.

Such a mindset was far beyond the bounds of reason. Compared to his own prayer for the descent of a god, his opponent seemed even more insane. Xu Junyi recalled who he was facing. Gongsun Ce was a psychic. He had heard it said that young people with supernatural abilities, no matter how normal they might appear, were always misfits, unable to integrate into society.

He’d thought it was mere prejudice, but now he believed it. He understood: in this youth’s world, only death equated to defeat. As long as he could still breathe, a psychic would rise again, standing in his way.

“Fine.”

Thus, the Dragon Cultist leader clenched his fists, gathering strength.

“Die.”

He was about to unleash his secret technique once more. Using his inner power while wounded would worsen his injuries, but the man had cast aside all caution. He could no longer endure this torturous battle—he would kill his opponent in one decisive blow!

A heavy exhale.

Gongsun Ce breathed raggedly, tortured.

He knew his own condition better than anyone.

The dreamlike numbness that had let him ignore pain was fading; the forgotten agony returned, bit by bit.

Managing to stand before his opponent was already a miracle of willpower. Another blow, another injury, and he would truly die.

He had one last card to play.

Was there still a chance? The youth asked himself. Was there an opportunity left to use that card? He saw none. Now, his arms were broken—he hadn’t the strength to play the card.

Even as he pondered, he kept moving forward. The distance between them was about two meters; he could vaguely make out his opponent’s movements before striking. Perhaps a hallucination before death, but he felt that posture looked familiar, as if he’d seen it just recently.

He could see all the signs of an impending attack. He remembered something someone had once said. And after that, what should he do? Knowing what attack was coming, his next move…

A thought sparked in his mind. Without pausing to consider, he summoned all his remaining strength, putting the half-formed plan into action.

“Qin Family Secret: Hidden Strike!”

The Dragon Cultist unleashed his finishing blow. This was the deepest martial art he’d ever learned—channeling power into his opponent’s body, shattering organs and bones, a killing fist that destroyed from within!

This punch would utterly destroy Gongsun Ce’s life, ensuring the hated enemy could never rise again—but in the instant the fist was thrown, everything changed!

Xu Junyi’s fist grazed his clothes, as if tripping mid-strike, the youth’s body falling forward.

The Hidden Strike missed, the youth’s shoulder colliding with the man’s forearm. The feeble blow caused no harm, only turning Gongsun Ce’s body.

His gauntleted right hand now pointed directly at Xu Junyi’s chest.

“Radiant Fist.”

Light flared in the Dragon Cultist’s eyes.

From the rear of the crimson gauntlet, dazzling fire burst forth.

At point-blank range, with no room to dodge, Gongsun Ce’s gauntlet shot off, smashing into his enemy’s chest, the crimson flash carrying the man’s body into the air!

The psychic was knocked down by the recoil, utterly spent.

“I told you before…” the grey-haired youth gazed at the dust-choked sky, “this thing can be fired like a missile.”

At the other end of the construction site came the thunderous crash of a heavy object landing.

Hit by the sand truck, pierced through the abdomen by sand bullets, then struck by a flying fist that could smash a bank vault door—if this combo didn’t defeat his opponent, he had nothing left.

Gongsun Ce lay breathing in the sand, the haze before slumber overtaking him; yet he dared not close his eyes.

He did not know if seconds or minutes had passed. As he was about to lose consciousness, he realized the world beside him had faded in color, the sand beneath him lost its touch.

Gongsun Ce let himself close his eyes, at last, in peace.

In the Shadow Duel of Uncertain Fate, the victor: Gongsun Ce.