"Hmmm… to think you managed to slip through," Ye said as he walked past Lian.
"You're truly fortunate, huh? Or are you fighting so hard because you want to impress Mai? Hahaha—how pathetic." Ye Xing laughed.
But Lian did not respond. He stayed quiet, crossed his legs, and circulated his Qi, preparing for the next match.
"Damn it… Why isn't he responding? The old him would have leapt at me, trying to defend himself. And the way he was fighting earlier… when did this bastard get so strong?" Ye Xing gritted his teeth. His fist clenched so tightly that his hand was trembling.
"Could I have fought four people at the same time…?" Ye Xing thought as he continued looking for a place to cultivate.
He reached into his storage pocket and took out a pill, a fruity fragrance drifting from it.
"Just you wait, Lian. I'll show you the difference in our strength… just you wait."
Ye Xing closed his eyes and began circulating his Qi as well.
Slowly, Lian felt his body returning to its original state. The Qi he had lost during the match flowed back, his breathing growing steady.
"Huu…" Lian exhaled sharply. "That match was harder than I thought. I underestimated them. For the next one, I should focus—or I might end up like Bao Bao…" he thought, as the last thread of Qi settled into his dantian.
"But that's just strange… how did he fall to his inner demon so quickly? Was he always so rash!?? Can someone's personality change that fast?" Lian tapped his temple, deep in thought.
But he was cut off as the thunderous voice returned.
"Ladies and gents, welcome back! The stick of incense has finished burning, and the tournament will continue!" the announcer's voice boomed as people rushed back to their spots.
"I think I've mostly recovered…" Lian thought, standing up from the ground.
"Come, come! Who do you think will win? Place your bets here!"
The gambling pavilion had already set up their stand.
"Yeah! Take it—five hundred thousand teals on Lin Feng!" someone shouted as they rushed forward.
"Yes, yes! Two hundred on the Twins!" another yelled.
One by one, people eagerly placed their bets.
Meanwhile, the participants were being arranged to determine who would fight whom.
"Old Xing, are you not going to place a bet on your sons?" Empress Li asked, clearly probing.
"I do not partake in such foolishness," Patriarch Qi replied, giving Empress Li a sharp look.
"What a shrewd woman…" the patriarch thought. "From the moment she arrived, she's been nothing but trouble—probing me at every chance she gets. What is her motive?"
"If you weren't from the Heavenly Star Sect as an envoy, he would already be dead," the patriarch burned with anger, though his outward appearance remained serene.
"Now that the groups are sorted, let the matches begin!" the announcer's voice boomed.
"Ah, Old Zhao Li, you're taking over Elder Yang's duties?" the announcer whispered.
"Yes. Though I'm not as experienced as Yang, I think I can handle the matches for him until he finishes stabilising that boy Bao," Zhao Li said, forming hand seals with his fingers. Moments later, the stages began to shift, converging into one great ring. The ground shook as the four separate stages connected into a single arena.
"Arrays are so interesting… If I have time in the future, I want to learn their magic," Lian thought to himself as he turned over his name plate.
"My number is eight, ha! Who am I fighting?" Lian's eyes scanned the participants, searching for whoever held number nine.
"Ha. It seems we were destined to fight sooner or later… I have number nine."
Lian and Lin Feng's eyes met, and Lian could see the fury burning on Lin Feng's face.
"Let the first match begin!" The crowd erupted as the battles commenced.
Two figures stepped forward—it was Xiao versus Tai Luon.
The boys stood at opposite ends of the giant ring.
"I'll finish this in ten exchanges," Xiao said, drawing his sabre from its sheath.
On the other side, Tai Luon strapped his clawed gauntlets onto his fists.
"Yeah… whatever you say," Tai Luon muttered, crouching into his battle stance.
The announcer glanced at one side, then the other.
"Begin!" his voice boomed
Just then, Tai Luon's body was swallowed by dark smoke.
In the next instant, he vanished in front of everyone's eyes.
"W-what?! Those are the assassin moves of the Luon Assassin Sect!" people shouted.
"It's my first time seeing it… I heard that once their organisation marks a target, they never stop until the job is done," another murmured.
"Really? How vicious… People who kill for money. Why doesn't the Murin Alliance do something about them?" someone complained.
"No, no—they can't. Assassination is also a form of cultivation. If they destroyed that organisation, it would be considered discrimination. It might even cause an uproar with the Assassin Guild," another explained.
Tai Luon suddenly reappeared behind Xiao, striking him with his blade. The cut was shallow, but before Xiao could react, Tai Luon vanished again.
He appeared—slashed—and disappeared once more.
Each time a strike landed, he counted:
"One."
"Two."
Tai Luon continued using this tactic until Xiao dropped to one knee.
"Damn it… How do I hit this slippery f*ck? All my attacks just pass right through him…" Xiao gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on his sabre.
"That's nine," Tai Luon said, appearing beside him and kicking Xiao's leg, sending him crashing to the ground.
"Mmm… it seems the match is over. He was arrogant—said he'd finish it in ten moves. Now he's the one losing in ten," the spectators murmured.
"I didn't want to use this move on you," Xiao said as he forced himself back onto his feet.
He lifted his sabre and closed his eyes.
"Oho… would you look at that? The boy has mastered Blade Intent," an envoy whispered in admiration.
The next time Tai Luon appeared behind Xiao—
He was met with steel.
The strike was so swift, so precise, that Tai Luon couldn't even raise a guard.
Bang!
He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Breathing heavily, Xiao spoke between gasps, "I told you… I was going to defeat you… in ten."
"Woooooah! Would you look at that?! He kept his word! Winner—Xiao, the Sabre Master!" the announcer shouted.
"Next match! Number eight vs. nine—"
The announcer paused.
"Ohhh! It seems Sixteen has forfeited! Let's move on to the next match. Numbers Eight and Nine, come up to the stage!"
"I guess it's my turn now," Lian thought as he climbed onto the stage.