Chapter Twenty: A Tardy Arrival
Though the farce lasted only a short while, that scene of sheer unruliness lingered in the hearts of all the disciples. Many years later, when each of them had ventured across the world, sword in hand, and suffered their share of setbacks, the memory of this day would still be enough to bring a smile to their faces.
Even the three Supreme Elders, who had been watching the proceedings from the forbidden grounds of the rear mountain with their divine sense, were genuinely amused by the riotous antics of the Ouyang family grandfather and grandson.
If Ouyang Jun, standing on the floating platform, knew the expressions of the Supreme Elders at this very moment, would he feel honored? Or simply… honored!
…
Soon, the second round of disciple matches concluded, followed by the third and fourth rounds. The excitement among the disciples remained undiminished.
During this time, the grandsons of the other peak lords—the other third-generation scions—also followed the example of Ouyang Luo and Gu Xiaoping, stubbornly holding their ground till the very end. Though defeated, they fought with honor!
…
“Next, disciples for the eighth round, step onto the stage!” an elder announced.
With that, another set of over two hundred disciples were transported onto the arena. At the elder’s declaration to begin, all the disciples drew their weapons, set their stances, and immediately dove into battle.
All except at Arena 96, where a young, beautiful junior sister—still in the midst of growing up—stood bewildered, as there was no one opposite her.
Many noticed this, both on stage and below, and conversation broke out again.
“What’s going on with Arena 96? Why is there only one person?”
“Yeah, where’s her opponent?”
“Poor little junior sister, she looks so helpless.”
“Which scoundrel dared to stand up my pitifully adorable junior sister?”
“Could it be that he threw away his number tag and didn’t dare show up?”
“No way, if that’s true, he’s even worse than Ouyang Handsome!”
…
The elder overseeing this arena was also at a loss, and shouted loudly, “Number 9257! Is 9527 here?”
“Who is 9527? You have five breaths to get to the arena, or you will be disqualified and considered to have forfeited!”
No sooner had the elder spoken than a group of disciples in the crowd, never ones to shy from mischief, began to count down—soon joined by many others.
“Five!”
“Four!”
“Three!”
…
“Wait, wait! I’m here!” At the very last breath, a battered figure shouted as he rushed forward, activating his number tag, which flashed to life, and was instantly transported onto Arena 96.
“Sorry, I’m late,” the tattered figure said, barely able to catch his breath, cupping his hands respectfully to the judging elders and to the junior sister standing opposite him.
“Who is that? Why is he covered in blood and grime?”
“Is that ragged fellow really one of our sect’s disciples?”
“He looks a bit like Fatty Gu…”
“Fatty Gu? Let me see…”
“Damn, it really is him.”
“What happened to him? Was he robbed, tied up, and humiliated?”
…
“No more nonsense—start the match. The other arenas are almost done,” the judging elder said, exasperated.
“Yes, Elder! I promise to finish the battle quickly!” Fatty Gu replied, immediately composing himself. His entire body surged with true energy, his aura rising higher and higher.
Combined with the scent and appearance of blood all over him, his presence became even more intimidating.
With a chilling aura, Fatty Gu took a single, forceful step forward. The junior sister, who had been readying herself to attack, was so overwhelmed by the wave of bloodthirsty energy that her mind went completely blank; her limbs and body would no longer obey her commands.
In a flash, Fatty Gu darted to her side, scooped up the dazed junior sister in one arm, and in a blink, the two figures appeared at the very edge of the arena.
As the junior sister finally snapped out of her stupor and realized something was wrong—but before she could act—a deep, masculine whisper sounded behind her ear: “See you below, junior sister.”
Before he’d even finished speaking, Fatty Gu let go.
And so, this delayed match ended in an instant: the beautiful junior sister was “tossed” out of the arena by the tattered Fatty Gu, bringing this bizarre contest to an abrupt and farcical close.
Such a comical spectacle left the disciples below gaping, speechless, while the elders on the stage were stunned beyond belief.
Even Old Gu, the fifth elder, could only bow his head and sigh incessantly.
All these years—nay, since the founding of the Illusory Sect—despite countless grand competitions within the sect, never had such an absurd and ludicrous contest taken place.
Should one say Fatty Gu was showing mercy to beauty? Or was he simply showing mercy to beauty!
…