Seventh Arena.
Blood still stained the ground. The middle-aged official stepped into the ring, swept his gaze over the two fighters whose victory and defeat had been decided, then turned toward the raised platform where the chief examiner and the other examiners sat. He announced loudly, "The winner of the Seventh Arena's fifth-round championship bout is Yang Jing of the Sun Clan Martial Arts School!"
As his words fell, cheers and excited chatter rose from below once more. Many people had not known Yang Jing before today, but they knew him now, and they would remember him from this day on.
Gripping the railing, Shen Lie struggled to his feet. The pain in his chest and the emptiness in his dantian made him unsteady even as he walked.
He shot Yang Jing a sidelong glance, his throat working. He had meant to glare viciously at him, but the fist that had smashed down past his scalp flashed through his mind, along with the undisguised killing intent in Yang Jing's eyes. A chill crawled up his spine, and he swallowed the vicious words on the tip of his tongue.
"Just you wait."
He clenched his teeth and forced the words through them, his voice as hoarse as though it had been scraped with sandpaper.
But a seed of venomous resentment had already taken root in his heart.
One day, I'll repay today's humiliation a hundredfold!
Once my wounds heal, I'll make this brat taste something far worse than defeat.
Yang Jing narrowed his eyes slightly without responding. He merely committed the threat firmly to memory, then followed Shen Lie calmly down from the ring.
Just as he stepped off the final stair, a burst of indistinct shouting reached his ears. It seemed to come from far away, and he could vaguely