Chapter 88: An Unexpected Bye
Five championship favorites stood shoulder to shoulder with Su Yizhao on the arena stage.
They were visibly uncomfortable, their glances darting repeatedly toward Su Yizhao.
Who on earth was this man?
Su Yizhao kept his gaze fixed on the shimmering screen in the sky. The number of grids on the screen was slowly dwindling—now, only fifteen remained.
Within each grid, two cultivators fought with ferocious intensity.
The tens of thousands of cultivators below watched the scene clearly, their exclamations rising and falling in waves, turning the scene into a lively spectacle.
After the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, eleven cultivators had already walked out of the rifts.
A little while later, when a cup of tea could be finished, all the grids on the screen disappeared, replaced by a list of twenty-one names.
On the first row, the same five names still stood out.
Instantly, the five championship favorites narrowed their eyes and ceased to pay attention to Su Yizhao.
Below the stage, Han Anning mumbled, “How did they arrange this order?”
Gou Jiancheng, hearing this, tried to comfort him, “It’s not like coming out first makes you stronger. Five million isn’t much; if we lose, so be it! Still, that kid sure is lucky!”
Su Yizhao did his best to remain composed.
Maintaining composure before tens of thousands of spectators was, in fact, a tremendous test for him.
He was a disciple of the Disciplinary Hall, and he’d never liked such grand occasions.
In the sky, the middle-aged cultivator announced, “For the second round, only the victors will remain; the losers will be eliminated! The first to emerge in the previous round will get a bye!”
At these words, Su Yizhao felt the pressure surge.
This time, every cultivator’s gaze truly focused on him.
To think he’d be granted a bye—what good fortune.
He rejoiced inwardly.
The less he revealed of his strength, the better.
The middle-aged cultivator waved his right hand, and in a breath, ten more people vanished into the rifts on the stage.
Su Yizhao marveled silently.
He had focused all his senses, yet hadn’t seen how those ten disappeared, nor could he tell who had entered which rift.
“The second round begins. Make your choices.”
In the blink of an eye, the vast arena was left with only Su Yizhao standing alone.
The corpses of the fallen had already been claimed.
Those who had surrendered were too ashamed to remain and had long since flown off the stage to hide among the crowd.
Su Yizhao felt a bit awkward.
But when he realized that the tens of thousands of cultivators were not watching him, but instead had their eyes fixed on the screen in the sky, he finally felt at ease.
The screen now showed ten small grids.
Within each, two cultivators faced off warily.
As the rounds progressed, the opponents grew ever stronger; no one dared let down their guard.
Su Yizhao sought out the grids containing the five championship favorites.
Huang Qizheng watched his opponent with calm composure.
Kong Bumíng had already drawn out his talismans.
Shi Yushu summoned his flying sword, while Gu Tianfu was the first to call forth a defensive artifact.
In an instant, Su Yizhao had formed a rough idea of the four’s fighting styles.
Suddenly, his pupils contracted.
He saw the rogue favorite, Lu Yongxin, say nothing at all—instead, as soon as he met his opponent, he surged forward in attack.
His opponent was no slouch either, forming hand seals to send nine flying swords whistling through the air at once.
The duel had only just begun, and already it was at its climax.
Though the screen was silent, the crowd seemed to hear the clash in their minds, imagining the ferocity of the struggle.
Su Yizhao watched intently.
Sometimes he nodded, sometimes he shook his head.
The championship favorites were indeed extraordinary—each had their specialties and deadly moves—and in no time, each had thoroughly suppressed their opponent.
In his mind, Su Yizhao kept rehearsing how he might deal with each of them, should they meet.
He paid particular attention to Kong Bumíng from the talisman clan.
It was as if his storage ring was filled to bursting with talismans, not only abundant but wielded with perfect timing.
His opponent, harried by the barrage, could barely mount an effective counterattack.
Su Yizhao was amazed.
Activating talismans consumed little spiritual energy.
So long as one had enough, one could exhaust their opponent by attrition alone.
Most importantly, this strategy allowed him to preserve the bulk of his true strength for any unforeseen challenges.
Lu Yongxin, too, surprised Su Yizhao.
Though a rogue cultivator, and with no rare treasures, his fighting style was utterly reckless.
A sudden sound—a gasp—escaped Su Yizhao as he stared at the screen, his mind supplying the imagined audio.
Lu Yongxin actually thrust his chest forward, allowing his opponent to stab him straight through with a sword.
Before his opponent could rejoice, Lu Yongxin, who had been hiding his intentions, lashed out with a kick to the man’s abdomen.
The heavy blow to the lower belly disrupted his opponent’s spiritual core, slowing the flow of energy.
That pause cost him the fight.
Moments later, Lu Yongxin emerged from the rift, dragging his opponent’s corpse.
Even before he appeared, the crowd of tens of thousands had already begun to cheer. When he set foot on the arena, the roar grew louder.
Clearly, though few had bet on him to win the championship, he still had his supporters.
Lu Yongxin deliberately dropped the corpse in front of Su Yizhao.
Su Yizhao turned to look at him.
With a sudden flick, Lu Yongxin let go, and the body thudded heavily to the arena floor.
A blatant threat!
Su Yizhao turned his head away and looked back to the screen.
Such a reckless man would indeed be hard to handle.
But if this was all Lu Yongxin could do, then no matter how desperate his tactics, he would not last long against Su Yizhao.
On the screen, the battles in the grids raged on.
Suddenly, Su Yizhao’s eyes narrowed again.
He saw Huang Qizheng seem to use some secret technique—his opponent, who had been spellcasting rapidly, suddenly froze for a split second.
In a duel, even a moment’s pause is fatal.
Sure enough, a flying sword instantly pierced the man’s throat.
“Divine power...” muttered Lu Yongxin beside Su Yizhao, his face grim, spitting out the words slowly.
A chill passed through Su Yizhao.
Divine power?
In this remote city, someone had actually comprehended a divine power?
When the energy, soul, and body all broke through at once, there was a chance to perceive the heavenly way.
But that chance was less than one in ten thousand.
Even then, only a tiny fraction would truly grasp a divine power.
A divine power was a spell uniquely suited to oneself, a spell all one’s own.
To call it a “spell” was an understatement—it was far mightier than ordinary spells and needed no incantation at all.
Su Yizhao tore his gaze from the screen.
In the air, a rift opened, and Huang Qizheng strolled out unhurriedly.
He had spared his opponent’s life—perhaps out of mercy, perhaps out of contempt.
Landing on the stage, he didn’t even glance at Su Yizhao or Lu Yongxin.
Anyone who could grasp a divine power was entitled to such pride!
Most of the cultivators below erupted in excitement, while only Gou Jiancheng and Han Anning exchanged wry smiles.
“Did you bet on Huang Qizheng?” Gou Jiancheng asked.
Han Anning shook his head, then nodded, “Not at the auction house, but I did place a million on him!”
Gou Jiancheng feigned anger, “You’re scheming! Planning to win here to make up for what you lost betting on that Su kid?”
Han Anning replied, “I always consider your predictions, but this time you gave two, so I bet on both!”
Gou Jiancheng sighed and nodded, “Yes, a cultivator with a divine power—there aren’t many even in the grandest cities. Still, I can’t help but feel that Su has the bearing of a winner!”
Han Anning looked up at Su Yizhao on the stage.
After a moment, he said softly, “He does have a different air about him. If... But no, I’m probably just imagining things.”