Chapter 782 Hidden Conspiracy
Mildred fought tooth and nail with Erica but to no avail. The Sorceress was simply too sly, too far, and too strong for her to effectively land her attacks, especially since the former was flying.
"Just what kind of juice did Zion make you drink for you to be this strong?!" Mildred shouted. "I want some of it too!"
"Damn! Did you hear that? She wants some juice as well!" A young man in the audience gasped.
"Now I'm curious. Did Lady Erica drink 'that' kind of juice from Zion?" another young man commented.
"Bro, you're making me imagine things I don't want to imagine."
"Same, bro. I guess I'll use this material tonight."
On the stage, Thirteen raised the microphone close to his mouth and spoke.
"How did you know that she drank my juice?" Thirteen asked. "Also, I gave her many kinds of juice. Just what kind of juice are you talking about? What color is the juice? What does it taste like? I need details."
The corner of Mildred's lips twitched because she didn't expect that her random shout was something that really happened. "How should i know what kind of juice it is?!" Mildred answered. "But, I'm guessing that it should be white, or something close to that color!"
Watching the battle from the audience stands, Sherry covered her beet-red face with both hands.
After all, she had also drunk that juice when they returned home from Zion's birthday party.
Erica's face also turned beet-red after hearing Mildred's shout, and she desperately wanted her friend to stop talking.
So she did what she could and no longer held back, summoning countless Fireballs. With this, she hoped to end the battle before Mildred shouted any more indecent things!
Seeing the ungodly amount of Fireballs covering the entire sky, Mildred did the safest thing she could do and conceded the match before she was burned to ashes.
However, Zion pretended to not hear Mildred's shout, causing the latter to glare at the teenage boy talking to Tiona.
"Oi! I already surrendered!" Mildred shouted. "Stop the match!"
Thirteen knew he could no longer pretend that he didn't hear Mildred's shout, so he finally declared Erica the winner.
"Winner, Erica!" Thirteen declared. The Sorceress clicked her tongue and made the Fireballs disperse, making Mildred finally sigh in relief.
She knew she wouldn't really die if she got hit by those Fireballs, but the pain she would go through at the initial point of contact was still something that she didn't want to try.
After Mildred left the arena, a short five-minute break was held to allow the commercials of the sponsors of the tournament to air.
Clark's and Mikhail's battle would be next, and it was also one of the highlights of the tournament.
Many wondered who would emerge victorious between the two, as they were both regarded as the most powerful Wanderers of their generation.
While Arthur and the rest of the Leventis Family believed that Mikhail would win, they still weren't a hundred percent sure of his victory.
After the commercial break passed, Thirteen went back to the stage and introduced the two fighters.
After this match, the winner would then proceed to the Final Match and wait for the results of the battle between Erica and Char, which would take place the next day. @@novelbin@@
"Both fighters, come to the arena!" Thirteen said.
There was no longer any need to introduce the two of them, so they walked on opposite ends of the arena under the thunderous cheer of the people who had come to watch their battle.
Fortunately, the worst-case scenario didn't happen, and the Arena remained intact.
However, blazing white flames started to spread on the place where Mikhail had stood earlier.
Suddenly, Thirteen's voice spread in the arena, snapping everyone out of their daze.
"Winner, Clark Ashford!" Thirteen declared.
Claude, who was seated a while ago, shouted in happiness and stood up from his chair.
"You did it, son!" Claude laughed loudly. "You did it!"
Thirteen glanced at Mikhail, who had been teleported out of the arena.
As if sensing his gaze, Zion's older brother looked in his direction and gave Thirteen a playful wink.
Thirteen smirked and gave his brother a nod of approval.
During his birthday celebration, he, Mikhail, and Clark had a private talk with each other.
Knowing Clark's current circumstances, Thirteen asked his brother to lose on purpose during their battle.
Mikhail didn't mind. Just like Shasha, the rewards of the Tournament didn't interest him in the slightest.
However, Thirteen told Clark that he would only allow him to go to the Finals.
As to whether he would become the Champion or not, it would depend on his ability.
Clark was already happy that he wouldn't have to fight against Mikhail in a battle to the death.
Truth be told, he wasn't confident in beating Zion's brother, who seemed to be stronger than him.
Also, it was in Clark's favor that Mikhail had never been one who liked to be in the spotlight.
As long as he would be able to help Zion, he was more than happy to agree to his brother's request, even if it meant losing the match deliberately.
What Clark didn't know was that he was looking forward to the Final match between him and Erica.
Truth be told, he didn't want his brother to face the Sorceress, who still hadn't unleashed the secret techniques he had taught her in the Rigel Continent.
If Mikhail fought against Erica, he was certain that no matter how strong his brother was, he would simply be no match against the young lady, whose true power was still unknown to most people.
Truth be told, Thirteen 'almost' pity Clark since the latter was thankful although he didn't actually do him a favor.
Although Char and Erica still hadn't faced each other, there was really no chance for the Sword Whip user to win against the Sorceress.
Clark, who was unaware of what Thirteen was thinking, glanced at the VIP Room of the Ashford Clan before walking away.
He had asked Zion for a favor because he cared for his father.
Also, it would be in Thirteen's best interest if Claude remained as the Patriarch of the Ashford Clan.
That way, Clark would be able to pull some strings using his father's authority to make things easier for his plans to come to fruition.
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