By evening, almost no one among the regulars at the Hell Slaughter Arena had not heard the name "Xiao Huohuo."
At that moment, Xiao Yun sat on a stone stool in his courtyard, holding a cup of spirit tea Ling'er had brewed. He gazed up at the blood-red sky, his expression calm.
At noon the next day, in the Hell Slaughter Arena's Main Soul Dueling Arena.
There were nearly twice as many spectators in the stands as usual.
More than ten tiers of stands were packed with people, and even behind the VIP curtains on the highest level, several additional figures could vaguely be seen.
Over ten thousand pairs of eyes watched the entrance to the Soul Dueling Arena, waiting for that "Xiao Huohuo," who knew neither the height of heaven nor the depth of earth, to appear.
The iron gate opened.
Xiao Yun walked out.
He wore an ordinary, close-fitting black outfit. His build was not particularly imposing, and his face was utterly unremarkable-he had deliberately used an illusion technique to alter his features slightly, making himself look even less conspicuous.
In a crowd, he was the sort a passing glance would simply overlook.
A low chorus of boos rose from the stands.
"That's it?"
"I thought he'd be some monster with three heads and six arms. Isn't he just an ordinary man?"
"Move along, move along. Nothing worth watching. I bet he won't survive three matches."
Most people withdrew their gazes and began chatting, placing bets, and drinking. Only a handful continued watching the Soul Dueling Arena with appraising eyes.
Hu Liena sat in a corner high in the stands, her crimson eyes settling on Xiao Yun through the crowd.
Her fingers lightly touched the little wooden sword concealed against her body, and her lips pressed together slightly.