Chapter Forty-Five: Mercy Is Not Needed!

After Gao Feng gave the order, everyone in the fleet immediately stopped. Chen Yi also signaled for Hu Sanhan’s men to hold their fire for the moment. Both sides, having just been locked in fierce combat, ceased their attacks. The smoke of battle lingered in the air, but the crowds on each side slowly quieted, leaving only the sounds of heavy, staggered breathing.

Gao Feng and Chen Yi stood facing each other in the open space between the two groups.

“Hmph, an interesting opponent,” Gao Feng sneered, a cold glint reflecting from the curved blade in his hand.

“You’re not simple yourself,” Chen Yi replied, gripping his double-edged blade, a sharp retort in his voice.

Gao Feng’s gaze flickered as he noticed Chen Yi’s weapon. “A fine blade you have there.”

“I won this Bloodthorn Scimitar from the Calamity Roulette. And you?” Gao Feng asked.

“My double-edged blade was also a reward from there,” Chen Yi answered.

“Ready?” Gao Feng’s voice was low.

“Anytime,” Chen Yi replied, his eyes brimming with confidence in his own strength.

At this moment, the air around them seemed to grow dense with tension. Invisible sparks of enmity clashed between the two, both men’s minds taut as bowstrings, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

“Let’s begin!” Gao Feng lunged forward, his Bloodthorn Scimitar darting toward Chen Yi like a venomous serpent, its speed astonishing.

With a swift sidestep, Chen Yi evaded the deadly strike. In that brief instant, his gaze tracked Gao Feng’s technique, searching for flaws.

“Hmph, did you think you could escape that easily?” Gao Feng mocked, spinning on his heel as the scimitar swept once more—this time, a viciously cunning slash aimed at Chen Yi’s right flank.

“A clever move,” Chen Yi acknowledged, but instead of retreating, he advanced. His double-edged blade spun in midair, skillfully blocking Gao Feng’s attack, then reversed for a swift upward slash, forcing Gao Feng back.

Blades flashed, each movement a duel of speed and precision. Neither man left an opening—any sign of weakness was nothing but a calculated trap.

Clang! The Bloodthorn Scimitar crashed against the double-edged blade with a sharp, metallic ring.

Gao Feng’s expression chilled. Suddenly, he accelerated, and their figures blurred, sparks of energy seeming to crackle in the air as they exchanged blows.

In that heartbeat, the nerves of everyone around were stretched taut.

“Go, Brother Chen!” Lu Kai couldn’t help but clench his fists, cheering Chen Yi on.

Hu Sanhan watched the riveting duel, quietly admiring Chen Yi’s composure. The speed of his reactions and those almost uncanny stances—being able to parry such attacks spoke volumes about his formidable strength.

“When did this kid become so fierce?” he wondered. “Or has he been hiding his strength all along?” Now, Hu Sanhan realized he truly couldn’t see through Chen Yi.

“Seems your strength is nothing special after all,” Gao Feng taunted, his words thick with contempt. He pressed the attack, Bloodthorn Scimitar moving even faster, ramping up the pressure.

“You underestimate me,” Chen Yi answered with a cold laugh. He abandoned pure defense, instead seizing the split-second gaps in Gao Feng’s assault to launch a counterattack driven by sheer speed.

His double-edged blade flashed like lightning, each strike aimed at vital points.

“Don’t get cocky!” Gao Feng’s eyes grew fiercer, murderous intent radiating from his whole body. The blood-red scimitar spun and danced between his hands, attacking from every conceivable angle.

Though he fought alone, his movements created the illusion of multiple attackers besieging Chen Yi all at once.

Suddenly, as Chen Yi’s offensive grew swifter, he caught a fleeting opening. Like a wraith, he stepped in, closing the distance. Gao Feng, caught off-guard, instinctively stumbled back, panic flickering across his face.

This was his chance.

Chen Yi unleashed his full strength in a single, decisive strike aimed at Gao Feng’s chest.

The blade tore through the air with a chilling whistle.

Gao Feng barely managed to parry, but his hands tingled with numbness, his face turning pale.

“It’s over!” Chen Yi shouted.

With a dull thud, Gao Feng’s scimitar was knocked from his grasp, and he staggered back several steps before collapsing to the ground.

A hush fell over the crowd—everyone held their breath, waiting for the final outcome.

Chen Yi approached Gao Feng with measured steps, looking down at him coldly. “You’ve lost.”

Gao Feng struggled to rise, only to discover his strength had drained away. He gritted his teeth, eyes full of unwillingness, but at last could only slump heavily to the ground, closing his eyes in resignation.

“You said the loser would be at the winner’s mercy,” Chen Yi intoned coolly.

“Fine. Do it, then,” Gao Feng said with difficulty.

Chen Yi nodded, and without hesitation, his blade fell.

With that threat eliminated, he turned to Hu Sanhan and the others, his voice deep and resolute: “We have won.”

“Well done, Boss Chen!” came the immediate roar of approval.

“Brother Chen, you’re amazing!” Cheers erupted all around.

The mood on Chen Yi’s side was jubilant, in stark contrast to the stunned numbness among the warship crew. They could hardly believe that their strongest and most skilled fighter had been defeated by Chen Yi. After all, Chen Yi didn’t even look especially muscular—aside from his handsome face and tall frame, there was nothing particularly remarkable about him.

Yet no one could argue with the outcome.

Before the enemy could recover from their shock, Chen Yi issued a swift command: “Seize them.”

“Yes, sir!” Lu Kai quickly led the team to drag the defeated enemies from the ship. Those who had been so arrogant before were now either dead or bound.

At that moment, Chen Yi lifted his gaze to the sky, where the sunset was retreating, and felt the cool evening breeze brush his face.

His somber eyes swept over the captured enemies, and he couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh.

“Kai, gather everyone in front of the base’s open ground,” he ordered his close friend. “Once we bring these prisoners back, there’s something I have to say to everyone.”

“Understood, Brother Chen. I’ll do it right away.” Lu Kai darted off, and soon enough, everyone in the base had assembled in neat rows.

Chu Yunxi was overjoyed to see Chen Yi and the others return safely. But seeing Chen Yi’s serious demeanor, she chose not to interrupt, waiting quietly instead.

The crowd murmured softly, discussing the recent events.

“Everyone!” Chen Yi stood atop a large stone, looking down at the crowd, his voice ringing out clear and strong.

Instantly, all fell silent.

“Today, we were ambushed and nearly annihilated,” he declared. “Fortunately, we responded quickly and barely escaped disaster. But remember this—in this apocalypse, this won’t be the last time such a thing happens.

“So I want you all to understand: in this world, against any enemy, we cannot afford mercy—even if they're human like us.”

The crowd erupted once more, discussing what Chen Yi’s words might mean for their future.

At that moment, Chen Yi spoke again, his tone resolute: “Those of you who did not take part in today’s battle, step forward. It’s your turn to contribute to the base—end these enemies’ lives.”