THE LAST WARRIOR REVENGE

Secret

After Arga’s victory in the battle against Aji from the Blood Bat Sect, the remaining participants were struck with fear.

They all knew that Aji was the strongest among them—second only to Arga. Realizing that facing him meant certain death, the other contestants raised their hands in surrender.

No one had expected this outcome. The audience, who had paid several silver tails to watch a grand spectacle, was deeply disappointed.

To appease their frustration, the Grandmaster of the Golden Step Sect, Rekso Atmoko, ordered one of his ten senior masters to face Arga in the arena.

The decision was met with protest from Kirana Dewi, but her father remained firm and allowed the Tenth Master to step down into the ring.

“Wongso, do not bring shame upon our sect,” Rekso Atmoko warned solemnly.

The middle-aged man named Wongso bowed respectfully. Without a word, he descended into the fighting ground. The crowd murmured in surprise when they saw a sect leader entering the arena himself.

“I have come to challenge you, young warrior,” Wongso said politely, bowing slightly.

Arga’s gaze lingered on the man before him.

“I accept your challenge,” he replied calmly. His sharp eyes studied Wongso’s posture but found nothing that could intimidate him.

“Thank you, young man. Let’s give these people a good show. I will restrain my strength to match yours,” Wongso said with a faint smile.

Arga didn’t respond. He simply adjusted his stance, preparing himself. This time, his opponent was someone who had already reached the Realm of Mystic Strikes—a level far above his own Iron Body Stage. This was not going to be an easy fight.

Wongso moved first—his body flickered with astonishing speed, almost like lightning. Arga’s keen eyes followed every subtle motion, analyzing his opponent’s steps and hand movements, waiting for the moment to strike.

“Right hand!” Arga calculated silently, predicting the direction of Wongso’s attack.

And he was right—Wongso’s right fist shot forward, aiming for his face. Arga quickly stepped back, maintaining distance. He knew that the punch was only a feint. The real attack was coming from Wongso’s left leg.

As soon as he stepped back, Arga’s right foot swung up sharply, blocking Wongso’s shin before it could connect. The movement was clean and precise.

Wongso was taken aback. Not only had Arga read his technique, but he also saw through the deception behind his first move. The older man leaped backward, quickly reassessing his strategy.

“How did you read my attack? You’re no ordinary fighter. Who are you really? And why have you come here?” Wongso demanded.

Arga’s lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes glinting with defiance.

“You don’t need to know who I am,” he said coldly. “And my reasons for being here are none of your concern.”

Wongso’s expression darkened, his lips twisting into a mocking grin.

“Very well, then. I’ll use the full power of my realm. Let’s see how long you can last... especially in your condition,” Wongso sneered.

Arga’s eyes widened. “You... you bastard! So it was you behind last night’s attack! How disgraceful! You call yourself a master, yet you hide behind poison and ambush? You’re a coward, unworthy of your title!”

Rage surged through him. His fists clenched tight as inner energy surged wildly within his body, flooding both arms with tremendous force.

Wongso chuckled darkly. “You’re lucky you survived. The Red Frog Poison is among the deadliest in existence. Almost no cure can save its victim—except a secret antidote only our sect possesses.”

Arga’s fury did not waver. He smirked.

“I have my own antidote—one that neutralizes any venom, hot or cold. Your frog poison is nothing. Let’s see how long you can keep that title of yours!”

Before Wongso could respond, Arga lunged forward, fists blazing.

The audience gasped—Arga almost never struck first. That could only mean one thing: he was furious.

Thousands of spectators rose to their feet, cheering his name in thunderous waves.

Wongso braced himself as Arga’s attack came crashing down. He lifted his forearm to block—

BAM!

The impact sent Wongso flying backward. Pain shot through his arm as heat spread across his muscles.

“What... kind of strength is this!? My arm feels like it’s burning!” he thought, forcing himself to regain balance before he hit the ground.

But Arga didn’t give him time. His figure flashed forward again—his right leg swung high and fast, cutting through the air.

Wongso raised both arms instinctively to block.

THUD!

The powerful kick launched him skyward.

“Damn it! He’s too fast—and his strikes... they’re monstrous!” Wongso thought, panic flickering in his eyes.

Before he could recover, Arga leaped upward, his silhouette overlapping Wongso’s midair. A faint grin appeared on the young man’s lips, a quiet confidence that sent chills down Wongso’s spine.

Then Arga’s right leg plunged downward.

CRASH!

Wongso’s body slammed into the arena floor, shaking the ground. Arga flipped midair and landed gracefully, barely making a sound.

The spectators held their breath. No one dared to blink.

They could hardly believe that Arga—still only at the Iron Body Stage—had just overpowered a master from the Mystic Strike Realm.

Rekso Atmoko and Ningrat rose from their seats, their faces pale with disbelief.

“How... how could he defeat Wongso, whose speed is unmatched in our sect?” Rekso shouted, his voice trembling with anger and shock.

Ningrat said nothing. His mind was blank, his eyes fixed on the arena.

“This young man... he keeps defying expectations,” he muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Kirana Dewi’s face glowed with admiration. Her heart pounded as she watched Arga stand tall under the spotlight, power and pride radiating from his stance.

The crowd erupted into cheers. Arga’s name echoed through the stands, spreading like wildfire.

Arga turned and smiled faintly at them, feeling a rare warmth from their roaring support.

But the battle wasn’t over. Wongso staggered to his feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His face twisted in rage.

“Damn it... to be humiliated by a mere novice like him... I won’t accept this!” he snarled, reaching into his robe.

Arga’s eyes narrowed sharply.

That dagger...!

“So it was him—the one who tried to harm Kirana last night!” Arga’s thoughts raced. “Very well, let the truth be revealed here, in front of everyone. Let’s see how your masters react, old man.”

Wongso’s hands trembled violently as energy surged through both daggers. With a furious roar, he leapt into the air—then hurled the glowing blades straight toward Arga!