Chapter 283 Qin Mo, the Thug
"I don't know if I'm beautiful or not, but I know you'll become a dead man."
Qin Mo's voice was completely different from before, carrying a chilling coldness and intense killing intent, which made everyone present tremble, even Wenger felt a chill in his heart.
The crowd parted automatically, revealing the person who spoke broken Da Xia language. He was so conspicuous that a large turban on his head wrapped his hair into the shape of a big pumpkin, and his full beard made him look very manly.
"Am I wrong? You are more beautiful than a woman. Calling you a beauty is a compliment." The big pumpkin looked at Qin Mo with a mischievous grin and spoke frivolously.
Qin Mo looked at the man and coldly asked, "Are you Prince Slaymond of the Ottoman Empire?"
“That’s right, the great Ottoman prince, the most powerful man, Slaymond.” Prince Slaymond puffed out his strong chest and said proudly.
"A bunch of idiots came to my new house this morning and caused trouble. Were they your servants?"
Prince Slaymond gritted his teeth and said, "You ill-mannered Easterner, I have already arranged for my friends to visit my new home, but you have taken away the house that should belong to me. Your character is unworthy of entering the temple, let alone practicing holy magic."
Qin Mo ignored Slaymond's bulging chest and turned to Heatherine, asking, "Your Highness Heatherine, may I challenge him to a duel here?"
Saintess Heatherine maintained her indifferent attitude, her voice even colder than before, "In the Temple, no one can be forced to accept a duel; this is the rule of the Temple."
"Thank you for your guidance, Your Highness Heatherine!"
Qin Mo first thanked Saintess Heatherine, then turned to Prince Slaymond and said contemptuously, "I now challenge you to a duel. Let me see what kind of man you really are. If you don't have the guts, then cry and beg for my forgiveness like a woman!"
Prince Slaymond let out a howl, tearing his outer robe to shreds and revealing his powerful physique. He made a slight movement before charging towards Qin Mo. The aura emanating from him was clearly the "righteous energy" unique to the Temple, making Qin Mo wonder how this narrow-minded fellow had cultivated such an aura.
Prince Slaymond is a "genius" in the Ottoman Empire. Five years ago, he was chosen by the Temple to be trained as a link between the Temple and the Ottoman Empire. After five years of training, he is now very confident. This year, he unsurprisingly received an invitation from the Ottoman Empire's inner temple, which further proves his talent and strength and also fuels his arrogance.
The power of the Holy Spirit in the temple was extremely mysterious. When Prince Slaymond gathered all his Holy Spirit power and punched Qin Mo in front of him, an invisible dragon of energy seemed to appear in the air, baring its fangs and claws. Looking at Qin Mo's tall and slender body, Slaymond already imagined the scene of him being sent flying by his punch.
Qin Mo didn't gather his energy or make a move. He simply raised his hand slightly, and his slender, fair palm met the head of the energy dragon. Before the mighty energy dragon could even roar, it was suffocated by him and turned into a dead dragon, dissipating into spiritual energy in all directions.
Qin Mo clenched Prince Slaymond's fist so tightly it cracked, and his face turned a deep liver color—not from anger, but from pain. Slaymond couldn't understand why his confident punch had landed on Qin Mo's palm, nor could he comprehend how hard Qin Mo's hand was; his own hand was deformed, seemingly shattered.
Prince Slaymond desperately tried to break free from Qin Mo's control by channeling the Holy Spirit power within his body, but he found that an irresistible aura surged into his body, rendering his proud Holy Spirit power completely immobile. He had no choice but to desperately lift his leg, intending to use his thick thigh to "force" Qin Mo away.
The entire process from Slaymond throwing a punch to Qin Mo's counterattack took only a moment. Just as Slaymond was enduring the excruciating pain and preparing to raise his leg to "force" Qin Mo away, Qin Mo's leg came faster than him, striking Slaymond squarely in the groin with lightning speed, sending him flying more than ten feet into the air.
Slaymond let out another howl, even louder and clearer than the last one.
Qin Mo's physical strength and speed are now unimaginable. Apart from a few powerful individuals, most people around him could not see Qin Mo's movements clearly. They only felt that Prince Slaymond rushed forward, and Qin Mo seemed to move slightly. Slaymond flew up and then landed, howling loudly while rolling and writhing on the ground.
"What kind of move is this? We in Great Xia have the Ground-Lying Fist, and Japan has its Ground Techniques. Does the Ottomans also have this special skill?" Qin Mo pointed at Prince Slaymon, who was rolling around on the ground, and asked those around him in confusion. His face looked innocent and helpless.
“Lord Qin Mo, watch your words and actions. This is a sacred temple, not a street. You are a cultivator, not a thug.”
Saintess Heatherine, who had been observing coldly, said indifferently. Of course, she could see how much damage Qin Mo's kick had caused to Slaymond. She also saw that Qin Mo had many options at the time, but he chose the most humiliating one, completely disregarding his own image. This kind of combat technique was not encouraged by the temple; it was too insidious and vicious.
"Thank you for your guidance, Your Highness Heatherine. Do I need to take his life?"
Before Heatherine could speak, Knight Commander Wenger Stellia said seriously, "A duel is an act of upholding one's dignity. Lord Qin Mo has already upheld his dignity in his own unique way. Although you can kill Slaymond, forgiveness is also one of the virtues praised by the Temple."
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