Chapter 89: OPEN! (Request Subscription!)

Joseph Bola spread his arms wide, gathering dense purple magic suffused with death, then unleashed it like a machine gun in a furious barrage.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Macao extended one hand, and a golden magical array reappeared, effortlessly blocking the assault—this barrage could not pierce his defense.

Whether due to age granting wisdom or not, Macao was truly all-around skilled; he mastered countless magics—close combat, ranged attacks, offense, defense, duels, group fights—all with equal mastery.

According to Macao himself, his defensive magic was so absolute that even if he stood perfectly still and let Joseph Bola bombard him until his magic was exhausted, it still wouldn’t break through.

“Boom!”

While defending, Macao’s other hand remained active—his arm stretched and swelled like a giant paw, swatting left and right like crushing flies, forcing Joseph Bola to constantly teleport to evade; one slap would be no joke.

“Spectral Arrows!”

Joseph Bola continuously cast magical attacks, filling the entire hall with the gloomy, malevolent aura of dark magic.

Merely the residual energy from this magic made the younger generation feel nauseous, stirring waves of fear within them.

Paccas and Carlen had already hidden behind Gao Deman and Bob, and the guild masters all released their magic to shield the juniors from Joseph Bola’s malevolent power.

Joseph Bola’s dark magic was indeed powerful—ordinary mages didn’t even have the qualification to stand before him; some guild masters here couldn’t survive more than a few strikes against him. But like Carlen, he made the fatal mistake of choosing the wrong opponent.

The little old man standing before Joseph Bola was short in stature and had a temper that flared unpredictably—and when his temper flared, he struck without mercy.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Macao’s giant palms slapped everywhere, reducing the banquet hall to ruins, leaving giant palm prints scattered across every surface. Mo En, standing behind the old man, winced with every strike—each slap cost money!

With the old man shielding him, Mo En felt no pressure at all—he was relaxed, but his thoughts were far from easy, even absurd: he was pondering how to “snatch the kill.”

The system only required him to “defeat Joseph Bola”—it never said he had to defeat him alone. If he defeated him alongside Grandpa Macao, wasn’t that still “defeating” him?

But the problem was: “defeat,” “defeat”—surely there must be some “fighting” involved? Could “winning” alone really count?

If someone says Kobe and I scored eighty-one points together, at least one of us had to take a few shots on the court—can Itachi really claim a shared score by cheering from the sidelines?

Mo En dared not gamble—lose this chance, and he’d miss out on instantly gaining the “Golden Saint’s Skill.”

So now, Mo En was frantically brainstorming: how could he at least “fight” once? He needed some sense of participation!

Mo En’s gaze fell upon the rose in his system space.

That single, brilliantly vivid, dangerously radiating “Royal Magic Palace Rose.”

‘I’ve got to give this bastard a real beating!’

Mo En made his decision instantly.

‘Itachi’re it—Royal Magic Palace Rose!’

Mo En immediately retrieved the “Royal Magic Palace Rose,” wrapping it in his magic to tightly seal in its toxins.

‘This will be more than enough to knock Itachi on your ass!’

Mo En channeled his magic; behind him, three star maps flickered faintly, stars shimmering, starlight flowing—his magic surged, converging relentlessly upon the “Royal Magic Palace Rose.”

In Mo En’s hands, the “Royal Magic Palace Rose” had become a glowing mass of magic, radiating terrifying power.

“Kid, what are Itachi doing?”

The commotion drew Macao’s attention—he glanced over, curious.

“Grandpa, let me help!”

Mo En spoke with righteous determination, continuing to gather magic. With Grandpa shielding him, he’d gather until he couldn’t hold any more—Joseph Bola couldn’t touch him.

“Good! Then I leave it to Itachi!”

Hearing Mo En, Macao replied happily.

“Don’t worry about him—I’ll handle the defense!”

The old man wasn’t annoyed at Mo En’s interference; instead, he kept encouraging him.

To be honest, if Mo En could knock Joseph Bola down with one blow, Macao feared he’d laugh so hard his mouth would split open.

Joseph Bola, a walking artillery platform, dodged attacks while continuously unleashing firepower.

He noticed Mo En gathering magic, but paid no mind—such an attack wasn’t worth his attention.

“I said fight outside! Fight outside!”

Macao and Joseph Bola’s furious battle in the meeting hall had Gao Deman and Bob sweating with anxiety.

Watching the banquet hall reduced to rubble, the two sighed.

Gao Deman and Bob had absolute faith in Macao’s strength—they never believed he could lose to Joseph Bola, unless Macao had an accident today.

So if they fought outside, everyone could enjoy the show.

But fighting inside this hall was excessive—everyone’s luggage was still here!

It was bad enough the banquet hall was ruined; if they brought down the whole building, everyone would suffer.

“That bastard Joseph just had to provoke Old Man Macao—now look, he’s going to smash this place to pieces before he’s satisfied!”

An elderly silver-haired woman with her hair coiled up kept complaining—she was Oba Babasama, guild master of “Serpent’s Scale.”

“Stop them! We must stop them!”

Oba Babasama grew angrier by the moment, stomping her feet and shouting. Though she looked ancient—over seventy years old—her strength must not be underestimated.

“Serpent’s Scale” had many strong members, especially Jura Rekis, a young man under thirty, hailed as certain to rank among the “Top Ten Magic Users”—his strength was widely acknowledged.

At this moment, Jura Rekis, nicknamed “Rock Iron,” stood beside Oba Babasama. He was bald, with a light stubble on his chin, holding a monk’s staff like a monk, radiating a gentle, benevolent aura.

Jura Rekis, whose face always looked slightly anxious, now stared intently at Macao and Joseph Bola’s battle, his eyes filled with curiosity and longing—this kind of clash between “Top Ten Magic Users” wasn’t something Itachi saw every day!

Any observer could see that although Joseph Bola was putting on a flashy show, constantly firing waves of magic, he was in fact running out of tricks.

Macao hadn’t even begun to fight, yet Joseph Bola was already drenched in sweat—the experience of a veteran legendary warrior was truly staggering!

“What’s that kid doing?”

Jura Rekis glanced at Mo En behind Macao—the boy’s hand now held a magic orb beginning to destabilize.

Not just Jura Rekis—everyone noticed. All eyes turned to Mo En in surprise.

“Grandpa! Release it!”

Mo En gritted his teeth and roared—he could barely hold it; the magic orb in his hand was quivering uncontrollably!

“Release it!”

Macao roared too, shoving forward violently—the multiple golden circular magic arrays exploded outward.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

The burst of magic pushed back Joseph Bola’s dark magic, producing terrifying explosive sounds. Joseph Bola froze for a moment, then burst into ecstatic joy—he thought Macao’s defense had finally cracked!

“Go! Royal Magic Palace Rose!”

Mo En roared and hurled the “Royal Magic Palace Rose,” wrapped in its magic orb, without hesitation.

(End of Chapter)