Chapter Five: The World War

“What’s going on?” Zhou Yu hurried toward the Martial Hall. The old man and Liu Yueming were observing from outside, so he asked them.

“At first, these kids weren’t doing much, but then a white guy started pointing at a black guy and saying something in gibberish. Soon enough, the two of them were fighting. More and more black and white people joined in until everyone was brawling.” The old man replied.

“The white guy seemed to say something like ‘fuck you’,” Liu Yueming remarked coldly, standing aside with his sword in his arms, eyes fixed on the chaos inside.

“Hmph! Each one of them has power at least approaching a superior demon soldier, and a few have reached demon general level!” The old man pointed inside as he spoke.

Following the direction of the old man’s finger, Zhou Yu saw dozens of people brawling in the square of the Martial Hall—blacks, whites, Asians, and mixed-race people, all embroiled in the fight.

Though the scene was chaotic, a closer look revealed that the fiercest fighting was between the blacks and whites. The Asians had split into two factions—some helping the whites, some the blacks—while all the mixed-race people were attacking the whites. But since the whites were greater in number, and with the help of the Asians siding with them, the battle was evenly matched. It was practically a world war!

Hovering above was a golden dragon—not the traditional Chinese kind, but a giant lizard-like Western dragon, summoned by a heavily bearded white man. The golden beast was breathing blazing breath upon the crowd, already having slain several black fighters.

Thoughts raced through Zhou Yu’s mind. He hadn’t spoken to any of these people since arriving, so many things were unclear, but he could guess much. For unknown reasons, all the travelers had gained various powers. Deceived by their watches, they discovered the reality here was not as promised. Emotions ran high, and old racial grudges were inflamed, escalating the conflict just as it had for him.

“Who do you want to help?” the old man asked.

Zhou Yu smiled, his gaze flickering past an especially sleazy-looking dwarf and an ugly man wielding a club. “I don’t want to help anyone. I just want to teach a lesson to those perverted little Japs and the shameless Korean bastards.”

Liu Yueming nodded. “Those two gangs look like nothing but trouble.”

Zhou Yu was surprised. “You know who I’m talking about?”

“I’m not blind. The perverted little Japs are those sleazy dwarfs, right? And the shameless Korean bastards are those ugly men with big clubs?” Liu Yueming raised a finger, pointing at the crowd.

Zhou Yu was dumbfounded for a moment, then nodded. “They say the masses have sharp eyes—how true that is.”

With a loud crash, someone was sent flying toward the three of them. Zhou Yu looked closer—it was an Asian man, neither sleazy nor ugly, dressed simply.

Zhou Yu caught him, but the force of the impact was so great that, even after absorbing the old man’s ten years of cultivation and consuming the demon cores of the snow fox, demon wolf, and giant bear, his arms still felt heavy.

The man in his arms coughed up blood. His chest had caved in from the blow; he was clearly beyond saving. He opened his eyes, looked at Zhou Yu with a complicated expression, muttered a few words, then his head lolled to the side—dead.

In the distance, a brutish man swung a massive club, charging at them with a fierce, murderous look, shouting something that ended with “-mida” over and over.

Zhou Yu gently laid the corpse aside, then straightened.

The club-wielding man rushed up, suddenly tossed aside his weapon, and fell to his knees before Liu Yueming, babbling emotionally in his foreign tongue, every sentence ending with “-mida”—a Korean.

After a few shouts, seeing Liu Yueming unresponsive, he suddenly lunged forward, hugging Liu Yueming and staring at his face with a lovesick gaze, still muttering incomprehensible “-mida” phrases.

Liu Yueming was baffled, but he wasn’t one to kill needlessly. With difficulty, he turned his head and pleaded to Zhou Yu, “What’s he saying?”

Zhou Yu glanced over and said, “He says you’re so handsome, you must have noble Korean blood. He says he likes you, loves you—”

“Enough! Stop!” The icy cold Liu Yueming was utterly revolted. The sight of the Korean’s ugly face, his crazed expression, and his loud declarations of affection were too much for him.

“Damn it!” With a flash of white, Liu Yueming’s sword left its sheath, cutting the repulsive Korean in two and freezing him instantly. The corpse shattered on the ground.

Liu Yueming’s sword hand still trembled. “That’s fucking disgusting! If anyone ever says I have Korean blood again, I’ll cut them down!”

Zhou Yu glanced at the shattered remains. “To think he’d sneak attack someone of his own kind just to curry favor with the Japanese and Americans. Such a death is well deserved!” With that, he strode toward the battlefield.

Flashes of light, blasts of wind, cries of pain from those struck, and the agonized howls of the wounded and maimed filled the square.

Nearby, a white man transformed into a werewolf was locked in fierce combat with a black man. The werewolf was blindingly fast, with razor-sharp claws and human cunning. Though only at demon soldier level, his fighting power nearly matched a demon general.

His opponent, a tall, slender black man, had unusually long limbs and a supernatural ability to stretch them at will. His fists and feet crashed into the ground with a force that left deep pits in the stone slabs.

With a rush, the three-meter-tall werewolf blurred forward, a shadow attacking the long-limbed black man. The black man swung a punch in defense but missed, smashing the ground instead.

The werewolf’s size, strength, and speed gave him the edge. After a prolonged struggle, he seized an opportunity and closed in for a grapple.

The black man’s elongated limbs were strong as steel, but up close he was at a disadvantage. Within a few breaths, he was in grave danger, narrowly dodging the werewolf’s deadly claws several times.

Zhou Yu watched closely. He wasn’t merely a bystander; he was analyzing their abilities. The werewolf was fearsome when fast, but if slowed, he’d lose his edge. The black man’s weakness was close-quarters combat. Zhou Yu’s sharp mind and keen insight allowed him to make these assessments almost instantly, the fruit of hard training back on Earth, not just innate talent.

Suddenly, the golden dragon in the sky unleashed a stream of yellow fire at the black man. He was forced to leap aside, his legs stretching impossibly far to propel him ten meters away. The fiery breath scorched the ground where he’d stood, leaving a gaping pit.

A scorched, sulfurous smell drifted to Zhou Yu’s nose. He clenched his fists and glanced up as the dragon turned to attack others.

A scream of pain rang out. Following the sound, Zhou Yu saw the black man, in his attempt to dodge the dragon’s breath, had left himself open—the werewolf had struck, raking a terrible wound across his chest. Blood gushed from the injury as he clutched the wound with one hand, barely fending off the werewolf’s onslaught with the other, sweat beading on his brow from agony.

The werewolf, having landed a hit, chuckled darkly and pressed the attack, claws moving so quickly they blurred from sight. The gravely wounded black man stood no chance. “Die! Damn black bastard!” the werewolf thought savagely as he struck.

With a soft snap, Zhou Yu appeared before the black man and caught the werewolf’s claw with his left hand. Having trained his senses to track even the faintest snowflake, Zhou Yu easily anticipated the werewolf’s killing blow, intercepting it before it landed. His left hand gripped the steel claw tightly—cold, razor-sharp.

“Who are you?” The werewolf’s blood-red eyes locked on the man who had suddenly intervened. Then, recognizing Zhou Yu, he sneered in broken Chinese, “A human? Ha! A woman, and a nice one—free for the taking! Ha ha.”

Zhou Yu raised his head, locking eyes with the three-meter werewolf. His left hand tightened on the beast’s right claw.