Chapter 176: A Brand New Way of Fighting

The clown’s movements faltered noticeably as the blades, forged from a deluge of blood, erupted from the stage floor. It was a fleeting hesitation, yet in the blur of their high-speed exchange, it stood out with striking clarity.

His body twisted in an unnatural, boneless contortion, shifting with a fluid, rapid grace as he sought to slip through the narrow gaps of the cage Wang Yu had summoned from the earth.

Alas, though time was a luxury he lacked, Wang Yu had conjured as many blood-blades as his capacity allowed; the interstices between the steel-hard edges were far too tight for even the most serpentine contortionist to navigate.

The velocity of the bullets left no room for error. This desperate attempt to evade had already narrowed the clown’s window of escape to a sliver; even had he exerted his full strength to shift his posture, it was already too late.

Of the six shots fired, four grazed the surface of the clown’s body at the very limit of his reach, shredding his gaudy, motley costume into ribbons. The remaining two, with nowhere left to hide, struck him square and true.

Clang! The sound of the bullets impacting the clown’s frame was not the dull thud of lead meeting flesh, but the sharp, metallic ring of steel striking steel. Where the projectiles met his body, brilliant sparks showered the air.

"Armor?" Wang Yu, plummeting from the air, felt a flicker of surprise, though he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. A body that flexible could not be encased in metal; such plating would surely stifle the very agility the clown relied upon.

The answer revealed itself soon enough. The impact had torn away the outer layers of the clown’s attire, exposing the "skin" beneath.

It was a surface shimmering with a metallic luster, as if sheets of iron had been grafted directly onto his dermis—likely the result of an internal enchantment or a petrification spell.

Though the bullets failed to inflict significant damage, the sheer kinetic force stalled the clown’s momentum, his nimble movements stuttering to a halt just as Wang Yu descended.

Lightning crackled in Wang Yu’s palm, coalescing into a spear of dancing arcs. Against an enemy with such formidable defenses, armor-piercing was the only path forward. Driven by Wang Yu’s mental focus, the Weaver’s Grimoire pushed the flow of mana within to its absolute peak.

With a downward swing, leveraging his falling weight, Wang Yu thrust the lightning spear toward the clown’s brow. If his skin were metal, surely it would be a fine conductor.

Wang Yu fell with speed, but the clown was swifter—or rather, his agility allowed him to move with equal ease whether standing or on all fours.

With a sudden lateral shift, the clown slammed his back against the stage, his body coiling like a spring before he lunged upward, his right hand snapping out to catch the wrist of the hand wielding the lightning spear.

"Such strength!" The clown’s power was unexpectedly immense. Deprived of his wizardly reserves, Wang Yu could not invoke the Blood-Burning Drive; his strength, that of a novice knight, proved no match for this unassuming jester.

A crushing force surged from his trapped wrist, twisting the arm holding the lightning spear and forcing Wang Yu’s entire body to veer off course.

Squinting, Wang Yu made a pulling gesture in the air with his free hand. The Bloody Gale Knight’s Secret Art, carried by ripples of battle aura, surged outward, enveloping the blood-blades that had sprouted from the stage.

The secret art allowed Wang Yu to manipulate his own blood via his aura, shaping it into weapons for combat. The "Frenzied Blood Twin" he had employed during the academy incident was merely an advanced iteration of this technique.

Yet, such power was not sustainable. The massive loss of blood would have drained him dry had he not been able to replenish his vitality by slaying the creations of the Source of Life, bolstered by the Banner of Triumph.

Now, however, thanks to the academy’s compensation—the "Blood-Biting Ring"—he could store blood in advance, allowing him to wield the secret art without such lethal constraints.

Furthermore, with the addition of the "Material Sword-Shaping" technique, his mastery over blood had reached a new zenith, granting his constructs a level of hardness and resilience far beyond their previous state.

A question arose: if the secret art was meant to drive his own blood, did these blood-forged blades still count? For others, perhaps not; for Wang Yu, they were extensions of his very essence.

As Wang Yu pulled at the air, the blades obeyed. Driven by the secret art, a multitude of blood-swords swept behind the clown, piercing his back.

Clang, ping, clatter! The metallic resonance was relentless; the clown’s defensive layer was terrifyingly dense.

Under the pressure of the secret art, the blades ground against his back in a cacophony of friction, sending a spray of tiny red shards cascading onto the stage.

Though these blades possessed the quality of high-grade steel, they shattered upon contact with the clown’s defenses, their edges chipping away into nothingness.

Yet, while the blades failed to pierce his hide, the impact was undeniable. The sheer barrage of strikes robbed the clown of his footing, forcing him to release his grip on Wang Yu’s wrist.

Breaking free, Wang Yu adjusted his posture in mid-air and hurled the lightning spear at the clown without hesitation.

Snap! As expected, the clown’s agility allowed him to twist his body and evade the strike. The lightning slammed into the stage, sending arcs of electricity dancing across the wood, scorching a wide patch of the floor with intense heat.

Regaining his balance, Wang Yu landed steadily, his gaze fixed on the clown as he recovered from his dodge.

The clown offered a smile and gave a casual kick, sending the shattered remnants of the blood-blades skittering toward Wang Yu’s feet, as if mocking the futility of his efforts.

Wang Yu offered no retort. Silently, he spread the knight’s secret art through the ripples of his aura once more. The broken blades on the floor dissolved back into crimson liquid, flowing toward him.

Wang Yu’s blood was unique. Since absorbing the dragon blood from Zig, it had gained a certain "vitality," a biological autonomy that allowed it to remain responsive to the secret art even long after leaving his body.

More remarkably, even when its properties were altered by the sword-shaping technique, the blood retained this dragon-born vitality.

Much like the "Nameless Magic Armor" crafted from the remains of ancient beasts—which, despite the passage of eons, regained its vigor when fed—Wang Yu’s blood possessed a similar, if less potent, nature.

The blood gathered behind Wang Yu, rising along his spine until it formed a flowing, scarlet cloak, maintained by the secret art. This was the blood he had stored within the ring.

Locking eyes with the clown, Wang Yu charged. He had gauged the jester’s capabilities: immense strength and impenetrable defense, but seemingly nothing more. The ability he had used to influence Shael’s mind remained a mystery—perhaps he hadn't felt it, or perhaps he had chosen not to use it on him.

The Weaver’s Grimoire hummed in resonance with his spirit, the spell model weaving mana in a heartbeat. First, he would restrain him. Third-tier spell: Glacial Intersection!

Ice elements converged upon Wang Yu’s fist, encasing his hand and forearm in a massive crystalline gauntlet. Simultaneously, frost spread across the floor, carving a path of ice directly toward the clown.

Propelled by the ice forming beneath his feet, Wang Yu slid forward with terrifying speed, his frost-encased fist leading the way. Sharp, jagged ice-spikes protruded from his knuckles, a chilling and formidable sight.

The clown clearly had no intention of meeting the blow head-on, twisting his body to slip out of the path of the charge.

Crack! A crisp sound echoed from beneath his feet. At some point, frost had climbed up the clown’s ankles, anchoring him to the frozen stage.

The clown exerted his immense strength, shattering the ice, but as he lifted his foot to move, he found the surface beneath him treacherous.

It was difficult to find purchase on the ice, and the clown knew he could not afford to stand on the slick stage.

He stomped down with all his might, his power shattering the ice layer to reach the wooden stage beneath.

His logic was sound, yet he was mistaken. Wang Yu’s blood had not all been gathered into the cloak; it was a ruse.

The clown’s stomp triggered the trap. The blood hidden beneath the stage erupted.

Under the influence of the sword-shaping technique, the blood formed a massive blade, shredding the wooden planks where the clown stood. The floor collapsed over a wide area, throwing him off balance.

Worse yet, the blade dissolved back into fluid, climbing up the clown’s legs like a parasite under the secret art’s command, dragging him down.

Hampered by a dozen obstacles, the agile clown found his movements stifled; evasion had become impossible.

Boom! The massive frost-fist slammed into the clown’s unbalanced frame.

The weight of the ice, combined with Wang Yu’s momentum, unleashed a torrent of kinetic energy that struck the clown without mercy.

Wang Yu pinned the clown with his frost-fist, the ice spreading across the jester’s body. The freezing effect took hold, the crystals encasing him and severely hindering his ability to act.

The background panels of the stage shuddered violently, sending debris raining down. The clown was driven backward, slamming hard against the stage’s backdrop.

The panels, reinforced with magic crystals to aid in illusions, were unexpectedly sturdy, sustaining only a few cracks under the massive impact.

Wang Yu’s expression remained grim. It wasn't over. Despite the colossal force of the blow, the clown appeared largely unscathed.

With a surge of power, the clown shattered the ice binding his body. He dug his fingers into the frost-fist pinning him to the wall.

Crack, crack, crack! Under the clown’s monstrous strength, the ice gauntlet split in two, revealing Wang Yu’s hand beneath.

The clown’s face remained fixed in that unchanging smile as he reached out to grab Wang Yu.

Snap! Palm met palm. Their fingers locked, and they entered a contest of raw, unadulterated strength.

The floor cracked beneath their feet, and the backdrop groaned in agony.

Wang Yu pushed his physical limits, muscles corded and veins bulging. His battle aura surged, pushing his strength to the absolute threshold of what he could achieve without the Blood-Burning Drive.

"You misfit, will you not join us? Will you not even listen to the voice of the masses? You are even more stubborn than that handsome lad. The Utopia has no need for stumbling blocks like you."

The clown’s voice rang out. His strength was terrifying; even with his aura fully engaged, Wang Yu was being pushed back.

"..." Wang Yu said nothing, pouring every ounce of his strength into the stalemate. Though he was at a disadvantage, the clown could not break the deadlock.

Yet, just because the clown could not overcome Wang Yu did not mean Wang Yu would remain passive. He had realized that physical attacks against the clown were largely ineffective.

When the frost-fist had struck, he had noticed a subtle, rhythmic vibration across the clown’s body. Though he could not identify it, the tremor had dispersed the kinetic energy across his entire frame, minimizing the damage.

Combined with the clown’s own preternatural durability, the devastating impact had failed to leave a mark.

If physical force fails, then resort to sorcery; it is a truth as plain as day, yet Wang Yu and the Jester were locked in a stalemate, palms pressed against palms, leaving Wang Yu unable to free a hand to conjure a lightning spear.

If the hands are bound, then use another vessel! The cloak of blood behind him instantly contorted, sprouting a multitude of crimson arms crafted from gore; these living currents of blood were extensions of his own body, serving as conduits for the weaver of spells.

Successive flashes of lightning ignited, and upon each of those sanguine palms, a brilliant, crackling spear of thunder emerged, one after another.

Then, the blood-wrought arms upon the cloak hurled the volley of lightning spears without mercy at the Jester, who, though holding the upper hand in their deadlock, remained pinned and unable to evade.

In an instant, a dazzling bloom of thunderous light erupted within the circus.