The spell's range covers the entire territory of China? Hand it over to the state.

The arena was suspended in mid-air, bathed in golden light, making the lion appear even more ferocious.

The Western gods, perhaps feeling confident of victory, even thoughtfully displayed their narration on the celestial screen:

[Nemia's Skin: A conceptual-level defense. Rejects all sharp weapon penetration and is immune to all kinetic impacts. Only divine power can break through it.]

The moment this line appeared, the already gloomy global survivors erupted in uproar.

"Physical immunity? What's the point of even trying?"

"Even if you bombard it with nuclear weapons, the shockwave and high temperature alone wouldn't be enough to kill it, would they?"

"That's cheating! They call it competition, it's blatant bullying. Most of the heroic spirits on our Dragon Xia side fight with melee weapons; isn't this like throwing their heads against a steel plate?"

The survivors in Northern Europe felt a deep resonance. They grew up listening to the stories of Hercules, the lion who was an invincible force in mythology, ultimately strangled to death. But that was Hercules, after all; what mortal possessed such strength?

In the command hall, Zhang Daoxuan's face was grim. He had just tried to release a wisp of sword energy, his trump card, the Pure Yang Sword Intent. And the result? Before the sword energy could even touch a single hair on the lion's head, it was bounced back by an invisible shield of rules, leaving not even a white mark.

"How can we fight like this?" Old Wang frowned. Although he had just regained his youth and was full of energy, it was useless to throw his fists until sparks flew when faced with such "rogue" rules.

It's like trying to chop a tank with a kitchen knife. Even if you're the world's best knife-wielder, the end result will only be a chipped blade, without even a scratch on the tank's paint.

The Western gods, who are high above all others, clearly want to tell everyone in this simple and brutal way: stop struggling, the rules are an insurmountable barrier, and the methods of mortals are not even worthy of scratching an itch in the face of mythology.

"How about... we try a magical attack?" Qin Shuangyue quickly analyzed the data, trying to find a way out. "Since physical attacks won't work, how about we use lightning magic, or fire attacks? After all, it's a living being, it always has weaknesses."

"It's useless." Long Yi shook his head, his gaze cold. "Those gods aren't stupid. Since they dared to release it as the vanguard, this lion's fur not only defends against physical attacks, but it also likely has extremely high magic resistance."

All eyes eventually turned to Su Yun.

This young man, who had saved the Great Xia Dynasty from collapse several times, was now closing his eyes, seemingly sensing something.

The system interface unfolds in the void.

The skill [Blessed by Martyrs] emits a faint light.

"System, target search: Nemean Lion. Attribute: Beast/Feloid. Weakness: Pride."

[Searching for the origins of Chinese mythology...]

Option 1: Guan Yu, the Martial Saint.

Su Yun looked at the imposing figure wielding the Green Dragon Crescent Blade, shook his head slightly, and crossed it out. Second Master was a master of slaying dragons and gods, a righteous and noble martial saint. To send him out to deal with such a brainless big cat would be beneath his dignity, and a bit like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

Option Two: Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Western Chu.

It's true that Xiang Yu possessed unparalleled strength and might, but with his temper, he could easily destroy the arena in a fit of rage. Moreover, Xiang Yu was a warrior capable of taking on ten thousand men, not a veterinarian.

Su Yun's finger continued to slide down until a name that was both familiar and unfamiliar caught her eye.

His name doesn't contain the word "god," nor did he become a "saint." But what he did has inspired every man of Longxia for thousands of years.

You are the one.

Su Yun locked onto it with his mind.

"We're not going to do any fancy, superhuman power-based battles. Since the other side wants to play with physical prowess and raw savagery, let's play something down-to-earth today, something with the most primal, violent aesthetics."

[Host's intention detected...]

[Skill "Martyrs' Blessing" is being activated...]

[Judging in progress... The talent "Territory is Territory" has intervened.]

[Enemy detected to possess "absolute physical immunity," conventional physical attacks are ineffective... Extracting historical information... Searching for the concept of "armor penetration"...]

[Search source: *Water Margin*, folk legends, the Heavenly Wounded Star destiny. Keywords: Jingyang Ridge, Eighteen Bowls, bare-handed, specializing in fighting tough opponents.]

[Reshaping the concept... With a mortal body, slaying the king of beasts... Skill mutation complete.]

-

Humanitarianism: Fighting the Tiger-like Tai Sui

[Description: The setting sun slants over Jingyang Ridge, a valiant warrior's fists wield iron-like strength. Once, a drunken traveler passed through the forest; whether you were a monstrous tiger with bulging eyes and a white forehead, or a demon with skin of bronze and bones of iron, under those fists, you would obediently turn into a pile of mud. This is an ultimate art called "violence," and also the most primal contempt of humanity's ancestors for wild beasts.]

[Effect 1: Penetrating Force - Strike Through Mountains. Grants the user the "Internal Force Penetration" characteristic. All attack hitboxes no longer apply to the "skin/armor," but instead penetrate directly to the target's "bones, internal organs, and energy core."]

[Effect 2: Dionysus - Three Bowls and You're Over the Hill. Special buff status. For each bowl of high-concentration liquor consumed, the user's strength is increased by 500%, critical hit rate by 100%, and pain is reduced by 100%. Upon consuming eighteen bowls, the user enters "Drunken Kill" mode. Attacks are guaranteed to be critical hits, and deal 300% true damage to all "beast" targets, inflicting the "Fear Shock" effect (forcibly interrupting enemy skill casting).]

[Effect 3: Celestial Star - Demon Subduing (Passive). Naturally possesses a positional advantage against all non-humanoid beast/monster units. Enemy attributes are forcibly reduced by 1000%, and they cannot inflict "instant death/execution" type damage on the user (locks health).]

[Note: What? You have thick skin? Coincidentally, I don't have many other skills, but I specialize in curing all kinds of itchy skin.]

……

In the arena, the ten-minute countdown reached zero.

The Nemean Lion, already impatient, raised its head and let out a deafening roar towards Longxia. The sound waves shattered the clouds in the sky, and foul-smelling saliva dripped from its mouth, sizzling and corroding the arena.

"roar--!!"

The roar was full of contempt, as if mocking humanity's cowardice and incompetence.

Above the clouds, the phantoms of the Western gods sneered. It seemed Long Xia was preparing to forfeit; after all, facing absolute defense, not wanting to die was only human nature.

However, at that moment...

A gust of wind blew by.

The wind was neither too hot nor too cold, and it didn't carry any terrifying pressure. But strangely, there was a certain smell mixed in with the wind.

It was very mild at first, like an old winery in a deep alley that had just had its mud seal lifted.

Then, the aroma grew stronger and stronger, instantly overpowering the stench and sulfur smell of the lion. It was like an 18-year-old vintage wine, mixed with the roughness and boldness of a Shandong man, so rich and mellow that just one whiff was enough to get you drunk.

"This is...the smell of alcohol?"

Audiences around the world were stunned.

Why does the aroma of wine suddenly waft through the arena during the life-or-death battle? Could it be that Long Xia is hosting a banquet for Lion?

"Da, da, da."

Footsteps sounded.

There were no earth-shattering special effects for the entrance, nor were there any chants of gods and Buddhas filling the sky.

From the void on the other side of the arena, a person staggered out.

The man looked to be in his early thirties, with a burly build like a wall, broad shoulders, and muscles that seemed to be sculpted from granite. However, he wasn't wearing any divine armor or holy robes; instead, he wore a tattered gray cloth robe with the collar open, revealing his bronze-colored, muscular chest.

His black hair was disheveled and hanging down his back, tied only loosely with a strip of cloth. In his hand he carried an ordinary-looking wooden stick—upon closer inspection, it was a whistle, still covered with half a piece of bark that hadn't been completely peeled off, and even had a few wormholes.

The most outrageous thing is his condition.

This man walked with a swaying gait, as if his feet were treading on cotton. His face was flushed with two large patches of drunkenness, his eyes were half-closed and hazy, and he was muttering something incoherently.

"Another...one more bowl!"

"Shopkeeper...did you dilute this drink with water? *burp*"

He reached out and grabbed at the air, conjuring up a large, chipped bowl out of thin air.

The large bowl shimmered with light, and the aroma of wine filled the air.

He picked it up, tilted his head back, and downed it in one gulp.

"Glug, glug."

The glistening liquor dripped down his stubble, wetting the front of his shirt.

"Ha! That felt great!"

A long howl, seven parts drunkenness and three parts madness.