In the dueling arena, both Papan and Richard began chanting incantations, accompanied by corresponding magical hand gestures. Papan's opening movements were standard and clear, instantly recognizable as Magic Missile—the most practical and potent Level One spell. In terms of magical proficiency alone, Papan's foundation was remarkably solid; even the most critical instructor would find no fault in his execution of this spell. A Level One mage should only produce two magic missiles, yet three orbs of magical light ignited between Papan's hands! A slight stir went through the crowd, surprised by Papan's magical talent. Magic Missile had the shortest casting time; by the time Papan's missiles shot forth, Richard's spell was still incomplete.

  The central missile locked onto Richard, while the other two shot towards his left and right flanks respectively. At his current strength, Papan could only fully lock onto a target with one of the three missiles. Adopting this tactical setup meant that no matter which direction his opponent dodged, they risked being hit by two missiles simultaneously! If Richard didn't dodge, he would have to take a direct hit from one missile.

  Papan knew one missile wouldn't finish Richard—he had personally experienced the boy's surprisingly sturdy physique during their earlier scuffle. However, he actually possessed the mana of a Level Two mage, allowing him to cast Magic Missile three times in total. Three volleys of missiles would be enough to pummel the kid senseless! Richard, having just registered as a Level One mage, could at most manage two volleys. Papan estimated he could endure one missile barrage, though it would be incredibly painful; two would be unbearable. It couldn't be helped; that was the nature of magic duels. If he were a Level Three mage, victory would be certain, and the duel wouldn't have been approved in the first place. Deepblue was fair. Overlooking certain inequities required an exceptionally powerful background and substantial material investment. Papan's family was far from reaching that level.

  After launching the three missiles, Papan began preparing the next volley. His opponent, Richard, was still slow in readying his spell. Papan felt the goddess of victory was already baring her thigh to him. Just thinking about the equipment, gold, and status promised by the person pulling the strings made Papan's heart itch with anticipation, so much so that his incantation became slightly inaccurate, dragging the 1.5-second casting time to 2 seconds. Yet, before the magic in his hands was fully formed, Papan heard a roar like a tidal wave erupting from the spectator stands!

  Is that cheering? For my impending victory? Papan wondered, though he possessed a modicum of self-awareness. He looked up, somewhat bewildered, his eyes suddenly widening, completely forgetting the half-prepared spell in his hands!

  Papan could hardly believe his eyes! What was he seeing? A fireball? How could a Level One mage cast a Level Three spell? Weren't scrolls prohibited in magic duels? Why was there a fireball?!

  That genuine fireball had already left Richard's hand, hurtling towards Papan. Fireball lacked a targeting function, but its high speed and the spell's own ten-meter damage radius made locking on unnecessary. Only when the fireball was less than five meters away did the dumbstruck Papan snap out of his shock. With a howl, he scrambled sideways, rolling and crawling away. But Papan, moving faster than ever before in his life, had only covered three meters when the rolling wave of fire caught up! With a muffled thump, Papan was blasted into the air, tracing a short arc before crashing heavily onto the ground several meters away, unable to rise again!

  The dueling arena abruptly shifted from extreme clamor to dead silence. Everyone subconsciously held their breath.

  Among the audience were many knowledgeable Grand Mages who could see that the potency of Richard's Fireball was significantly less than a standard Level Three spell, but its impact of 10 energy levels was still enough to deliver a heavy blow to any mage below Level Three. Although Papan wasn't killed instantly, he would need dozens of days to recover.

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  A muffled thump once again drew the audience's attention. Papan's magic missiles had only just reached Richard. He crossed his arms defensively, absorbing the impact, then, with unchanged expression and flawless hand gestures, began preparing a second spell.

  The arena was now so quiet that a feather falling could be clearly heard. Though Richard recited the magic incantation very softly, several Grand Mages with superior perception heard it, and their expressions changed drastically in alarm!

  Although the incantation was heavily modified, they could still recognize it: Richard's second spell was also Fireball!

  Richard's face was already pale. The rapid drain of mana made him feel as if his body was being emptied; he had less than 4 points of mana left, recovering slightly thanks to a mana recovery potion. The incantation he was preparing was a version of Fireball with further reduced mana cost, not yet fully researched. But even perfected, it would require 6 points of mana to cast a small fireball with an energy level of 8. Yet, fierce conviction supported Richard, compelling him to complete the spell even at the cost of mana overdraft!

  Though the fireball was small, it was still enough to kill.

  At that moment, the resident mage flashed to the center of the arena, waved his hand to dispel Richard's unfinished spell, and simultaneously stabilized his chaotic mana.

  "Enough. Casting that spell would kill him, which violates the rules of magic duels." Saying this, the resident mage glanced back at Papan's condition, then announced, "The victor of this duel is Richard! Now, Richard, according to the prior agreement, you may demand the opponent fulfill... hmm, the agreed-upon wager. The location of fulfillment can be chosen separately. Of course, I personally suggest you choose a... uh... similar, alternative... method of fulfillment, which also complies with the rules of magic duels."

  Hearing the resident mage, Richard walked over to the motionless Papan, roughly pulled up his head, looked at the face, blackened and swollen from the fiery blast, and said in a voice devoid of any emotion, "Someone once told me, if anyone wants to kick your ass, you kick theirs twice as hard first."

  Finished speaking, Richard stood up and, using all his strength, viciously kicked Papan squarely in the rear! Papan let out a squeal like a stuck pig, which then turned into a strained, breathless groan that was impossible to distinguish as crying or laughing. Richard took two steps away, then suddenly turned and delivered another kick! This blow immediately sent Papan's groans up another octave.

  Seeing Richard's two kicks, even the resident mage's eyebrows twitched slightly, feeling a faint discomfort in his own posterior region. However, in his view, Richard's kicks were clearly more merciful than enforcing the agreed wager, so he tacitly accepted this method of fulfillment and declared the duel concluded. People in the stands began to leave one after another, appearing quite excited, constantly discussing Richard's Fireball. Naturally, no one paid any attention to Papan's backside. Clearly, this would be a hot topic for a considerable time to come.

  In the private box, neither Minnie nor Randolph had expected such an outcome. Minnie suddenly let out a short, sharp laugh. "Randolph, you were right. It seems little Richard is indeed worth 500,000 gold coins!" With that, she didn't bother addressing Randolph further but walked straight out of the box.

  Randolph's face was ashen, his eyes practically spitting fire! His gaze locked onto Minnie's slender waist and gracefully swaying hips, his teeth clenched tightly together.

  As she pulled open the box door, Minnie suddenly turned back, smiling faintly. "You don't need to just stare at my ass. I think, right now, you need to seriously consider the future of your own ass. Teacher returns in six days!"

  Bang! The box door slammed shut heavily in Randolph's face, the force utterly lacking aristocratic etiquette or grace. Randolph immediately began to roar, smashing almost everything smashable within the box—he could afford to replace it, anyway.

  As for Papan, at this moment, he had become an orphan forsaken by the world. Even those apprentice followers who were usually inseparable from him had vanished without a trace. Only now did they remember the terror inspired by Lady Helen Su. It was precisely these apprentices, new to Deepblue, who still carried so many worldly, profligate habits.