172: Chapter 172 Close-quarters Nightmare! The Crushing End! (Close combat means death! This is the way of the warrior!)

Han Qianchi's scream cracked with desperation, sounding jarringly harsh in the silent arena.

Lin Qi did not answer him. There was no need to explain anything to a dead man.

The palm that had torn through the Repulsion Fire Ring, covered in a pale golden Protective Aura, did not retract but instead reached forward fluidly.

The movement was not fast; it was even relaxed. It was as if he were greeting a friend, reaching out to pat their shoulder.

Yet, in Han Qianchi's eyes, this simple movement was infinitely slowed down and infinitely magnified.

He saw the subtle movements of every knuckle on that palm, and beneath that layer of pale golden Protective Aura, he saw the power contained within a mere mortal body—power enough to shatter mountains.

Escape! That was the only thought remaining in his mind.

He desperately mobilized the last remnants of magic power in his body, wanting to cast Blink, wanting to create distance. Even just one meter! If he could just gain one meter, he was confident he could regain the initiative in countless ways!

However, his Spell incantation and the flow of his magic power seemed as slow as a clumsy stage play to Lin Qi's perception.

Just as Han Qianchi's lips moved, at the very moment the first magic syllable was about to be uttered, his vision blurred. That palm had already vanished.

The next moment, a warm and powerful hand precisely seized his throat—the throat of his destiny.

Snap. A soft sound. It was not the sound of bones breaking.

It was the magic nodes at the collar of Han Qianchi's priceless, ice-blue robe, which had been enchanted with multiple defensive runes, being crushed directly by the Protective Aura at Lin Qi's fingertips.

The light flowing over the robe dimmed. All the magic power in Han Qianchi's body, as if a main valve had been shut off, instantly solidified, and he could no longer mobilize even a fraction of it.

All his Spell models collapsed in his mind. He froze in place, like a duck being grabbed by the neck.

"Ugh…" As the sensation of suffocation hit, Han Qianchi's eyes bulged, and his handsome face turned liver-colored from lack of oxygen.

He struggled desperately, using both hands to pry at Lin Qi's hand, but it was like trying to shake a mountain. That hand did not budge.

Lin Qi exerted a slight force in his arm, lifting him from mid-air with one hand. His toes left the ground.

The once high-and-mighty Frost Chief, who had looked down upon all living beings, was now like a chick being held up, his legs kicking weakly in the air.

The world had completely turned upside down at this moment. Before, it had been Han Qianchi floating in mid-air, judging Lin Qi on the ground with the eyes of someone looking at an ant. Now, it was Lin Qi standing on the ground, holding Han Qianchi in mid-air with the eyes of someone looking at trash.

The entire arena was deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop. Tens of thousands of spectators, whether on-site or in front of screens, all held their breath.

Their eyeballs were almost popping out of their sockets, and their mouths were open wide enough to fit an egg. Their brains, having received such an outrageous scene, had completely gone on strike.

What happened? A second ago, it was still a magnificent scene of ice and fire, with Spells bombarding each other. A second later, how was that arrogant magic Prodigy being held up by his throat?

This reversal was too fast. It was so fast that everyone's thoughts couldn't keep up.

From breaking the ice with the Blood Furnace, to tearing through the fire with Protective Aura, to the close-quarters execution at this moment. The entire process was fluid, filled with the most primitive, most unreasonable aesthetic of violence.

This was no longer a match. It was a one-sided, bloody live lesson. The topic was: What happens when a top-tier mage is closed-in on by a martial artist.

"Cough… cough-cough…" In the Longya Academy rest area, Zhang Wei choked on his own saliva, violently coughing while dancing and slapping his thigh.

"Did you see that! Did you see that! This is my Brother Qi!" He was red in the face with excitement, pointing at the scene on the arena, shouting at the several gamblers next to him who had already turned to stone.

"What kind of bullshit Chief! What Divine-Grade talent! In front of my Brother Qi, he's just a little brother!"

"And still resisting the Repulsion Fire Ring? My Brother Qi tore it right apart! Just ask yourself if you're angry!"

"This is the outcome! This is the outcome of daring to act tough in front of my Brother Qi!"

Instructor Su Qing stood to the side, and on that perpetually frozen face, the corners of her mouth couldn't help but rise slightly.

She looked at that figure gripping the mage's throat, and deep within her eyes was an unprecedented brightness.

So… this is the true fighting style of ancient martial arts. No playing around with fancy tricks; just get in their face. Once you get in their face, even gods have to kneel.

"Good! Good! Very good!" Elder Mo was almost leaning over the railing, his withered old face flushed red with excitement, shouting in a hoarse voice.

"Severing the meridians! Locking the throat! Cutting off the root of his magic power!"

"This is the optimal solution for dealing with spellcasters! A textbook! This is simply a textbook-level fighting style!"

"What Laws, what data—in the face of absolute close-quarters suppression, they are all paper tigers! They are all paper tigers!"

In the VIP room. Li Pojun stared fixedly at the screen, his fists clenched so tightly they rattled, his fingernails digging deeply into his flesh, seeping blood.

He felt as if his face was being slapped, one after another, by Lin Qi through the screen. It burned with pain.

The sure-kill trap he had arranged, the elemental restraint theory he was so proud of, the data-supremacy Law he believed in. At this moment, they were being trampled underfoot and crushed into dust by that Blank Slate, in the most brutal and humiliating way.

Beside him, Li Qingcang's expression was so gloomy it could drip water. The palm he had placed on the armrest had, at some point, crushed five deep finger marks into the hard mahogany.

Defeated. And in a way they could least accept—a crushing defeat.

On the arena. Lin Qi held Han Qianchi by the neck as if carrying an insignificant piece of luggage.

He could feel the complete chaos of the magic power within the other person's body, and he could feel the heart beating violently due to fear and suffocation.

He looked at that face which had lost all color, with no fluctuation in his eyes.

Kill him? A thought flashed by, then was extinguished by him. No. Arena rules prohibited fatal outcomes. Killing him would be troublesome.

However, while a death sentence could be avoided, living punishment was unavoidable. He wanted everyone to see clearly the outcome of a mage being closed-in on. He wanted everyone plotting against him to weigh their own necks and see if they were sturdy enough.

Lin Qi flicked his arm. It was like throwing away a rag, a trash bag. Thump!

Han Qianchi traced a parabola of absolute indignity through the air, crossed the boundary of the arena, and slammed heavily onto the floor outside. A dull thud.

This Chief of the Elemental Tower, the Federation's top magic Genius, didn't even let out a groan; his head lolled to the side, and he passed out on the spot.

Ding—! The bell signaling the end of the match finally arrived, albeit late.

"The, the winner—Lin Qi!" The commentator's voice was distorted from excessive excitement; he was practically shouting.

The entire arena, after experiencing half a minute of deathly silence, erupted into cheers and screams like a landslide or a tsunami!

"He won! Holy crap! He actually won!"

"My god! What kind of fighting is this! It's too outrageous! I don't understand, but I am greatly shocked!"

"Physical Spell-breaking! This, damn it, is true physical Spell-breaking! Mage-killer! This is definitely the bane of all mages!"

Lin Qi stood in the center of the arena. The Blood Moving Technique slowly ceased operation, and the white steam rising from his body gradually dissipated.

He ignored the deafening cheers around him. He slowly raised his head and looked around.

His gaze precisely crossed over the countless moving heads and landed in the direction of the VIP box. In that direction sat Li Pojun and the head of the Li family.

A cold arc curled at the corner of Lin Qi's mouth. He did not use a loudspeaker, but his voice contained a peculiar penetrating power, clearly spreading to every corner of the entire arena.

"A mage is already dead once they are closed-in on."

"Next."