Chapter 115: Ice and Fire

For his first registration, Qi Xiao hesitated and chose a more conservative path. Rather than entering the open-age competition, he opted for the under-40 bracket. After all, the organization only recruited talents with one-in-a-hundred-thousand potential; any wizard capable of becoming a Senior Apprentice was bound to have some real substance. They wouldn’t be like the middle-aged wizard in black robes he had encountered on his first trip out, who had been taken down by a few simple scrolls.

Competitions at the Senior Wizard Apprentice level did not rely on winning streaks but on a point system. However, continuous victories earned bonus points, as did ending someone else’s streak.

Qi Xiao registered his Psionic Elemental Pistol, Moon-Bright, Star-Sparse, and the Eternal Aura Ring. For this level of competition, one was permitted to carry one primary weapon, three other types of alchemical items, two potions, and three scrolls.

Most wizards, unless they were top-ranked competitors fighting for points, were reluctant to use potions or scrolls in a mere sparring match. Qi Xiao’s Moon-Bright and Star-Sparse were a slight disadvantage here; although their auras were unified and closely linked, they counted as two separate items. Since he couldn't even fill all three slots—having even used his storage ring to make up the numbers—it didn't matter much.

After being warned by the front desk not to retrieve unauthorized alchemical potions, scrolls, or unregistered items from his storage ring, Qi Xiao nodded to signal his understanding and was sent into the arena.

Before he could even plant his feet or survey his surroundings, a surprised voice rang out: "An Intermediate Apprentice?"

Qi Xiao looked toward the source of the sound and saw a brown-haired wizard with greasy hair, a smattering of freckles, and a decent physique staring at him with a look of amusement.

"Friend, I think you’ve entered the wrong arena."

Qi Xiao ignored the mockery and focused on observing the environment.

The audience, however, did not underestimate Qi Xiao as the brown-haired wizard had. They were, in fact, quite expectant. "The last time an Intermediate Wizard Apprentice challenged the Senior bracket was Lord Ya-Kui, right?"

"Must be. It’s been three years since Lady Liu-Yuan competed, and she’s probably in the top ten now!"

"Do you think he can do it? He looks like a pushover..."

"The fight is about to start; we’ll know his quality soon enough. This ‘Sun God’ must have only recently advanced to Senior Wizard Apprentice. His aura is mediocre, and I’ve never seen him before."

Qi Xiao finished his assessment, withdrew his gaze, and waited for the referee’s countdown.

The arena was a wide-open space with no cover, similar to a football field—well-suited for the Psionic Elemental Pistol. Qi Xiao had already drawn and loaded his pistol from his waist, aiming at the brown-haired wizard, ready to fire the moment the referee gave the signal.

Under the muzzle of that strange-looking weapon, the brown-haired wizard felt a chill creep into his heart, his entire body breaking out in a cold sweat.

"3, 2, 1, begin!"

The moment the final syllable left the referee’s lips, Qi Xiao fired a bullet glowing with a faint blue light, quickly pulling the trigger three more times.

The brown-haired wizard had been wary of this peculiar weapon. The moment Qi Xiao fired, he darted away, feet treading on two clusters of bright yellow flames, dodging the bullets while closing in on Qi Xiao at high speed.

*Regardless of anything else, this weapon is definitely long-range. Looking at this young wizard’s build, he doesn't look like a melee fighter. Closing the distance is always the right call!*

The brown-haired wizard evaded the four bullets, but the projectiles possessed tracking effects—enhanced even further after the weapon’s modifications—and they looped back toward him like boomerangs.

The brown-haired wizard didn't dodge again. Without looking back, he threw a punch behind him. Strangely, as soon as his fist touched the bullets, the elemental projectiles turned to ash instantly, without producing any explosion.

Qi Xiao had been charging his energy for nearly half a minute. He finally fired a bullet radiating such intense cold that it nearly froze the barrel of his gun. It moved with astonishing speed; the brown-haired wizard had no time to dodge. He braced himself and, mimicking his previous move, punched toward the bullet.

The moment the bullet was fired, the temperature of the entire arena plummeted. The projectile was coated in a thin layer of frost, its cold so piercing that it felt as if the very air were freezing.

The brown-haired wizard was wreathed in raging flames, his left fist transformed into pure, incinerating fire, intending to annihilate the ice bullet.

However, the moment the ice bullet made contact with the flames, there was no expected violent explosion or pulverization. Instead, a bizarre silence descended.

The audience held their breath, watching the scene tensely. They knew this was a clash of elemental forces—ice against fire, cold against heat. Such a confrontation usually meant the total victory of one side or a mutually destructive outcome.

Qi Xiao, however, had already foreseen the result and silently holstered his pistol.

"Fine-grade" equipment could influence even formal wizards. Even if the Psionic Elemental Pistol wasn't the top tier of its grade, it was certainly not something a newly ascended Senior Apprentice could withstand.

The brown-haired wizard’s face had been full of confidence; he believed his flames were sufficient to render any ice-based attack into nothingness. Yet, as the frost bullet approached, he felt an unusual cold—a chill that made even his soul tremble.

The instant ice and fire met, the flames burning on the brown-haired wizard’s left fist began to fluctuate, no longer stable, flickering like a candle in a gale.

The cold from the bullet, like invisible tentacles, slowly coiled around his fist. Everywhere the chill touched, the temperature plunged, and white frost crystals even appeared in the air.

As the cold encroached, ice crystals began to form on the brown-haired wizard’s fist, spreading to cover his entire hand. The raging flames, suppressed by the chill, gradually weakened until they were extinguished with a faint "pfft" sound. At the moment the fire vanished, a look of disbelief appeared on the brown-haired wizard’s face.

The ice continued to spread rapidly. The brown-haired wizard’s arm began to stiffen. He tried to move it but found his motions agonizingly slow, as if his arm were pinned down by a thousand-pound weight.

The frost bullet’s cold did not stop with the extinguishing of the flames; it continued to diffuse throughout the brown-haired wizard’s body. Wherever the cold reached, the air seemed to solidify, and a thin layer of frost began to coat the ground.

The brown-haired wizard’s body grew rigid. Terror washed over his face. He tried to retreat, only to find his feet frozen in place, unable to move.

Finally, the brown-haired wizard was encased in a thick layer of ice. He remained in his punching stance, his face frozen in horror, remnants of fire still clinging to his shoulder—a statue of ice standing silently in the arena.

What felt like a long time had actually happened in an instant. The audience sat in stunned, absolute silence.