The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's Young Lady

The raging wind in the arena gradually subsided, and the surroundings fell deathly silent.

Everyone in the stands was stunned.

The referee opened his mouth, and only after a long while did he loudly announce, "The winner: White-Clothed Guest!"

The applause was deafening.

Wind Shadow stared at the sword tip against his chest, his expression shifting before finally turning into a sigh. "I lost."

Zhou Qiubai sheathed his sword at his waist and cupped his fists. "You let me win."

Wind Shadow shook his head and turned to leave the arena, his back carrying a trace of loneliness.

Still, losing to an opponent like this was nothing to be ashamed of.

The referee walked up to Zhou Qiubai. "Congratulations."

Zhou Qiubai politely thanked him.

As he turned toward the passageway, he heard waves of discussion rise from the stands. "He won! He really won!"

"A challenge across ranks! A Soul Grandmaster beat a Soul Elder!"

"Did you see his Soul Rings? They seemed like they never lit up?"

The corners of Zhou Qiubai's lips rose slightly.

He walked out through the passageway and returned backstage.

Zhao Yan was already waiting for him.

"Wonderful." This deputy manager rarely showed a smile. "Truly wonderful."

After a brief pause, he continued, "Also, representatives from several merchant guilds want to meet you to discuss endorsements. There are also scouts from a few sects who seem quite interested in you. Would you like to..."

"No need." Zhou Qiubai cut him off.

A trace of regret flashed through Zhao Yan's eyes, but he did not press the matter. "All right, I respect your choice. But if there are Bronze Soul Fighter-level matches in the future, we'll prioritize you. The prize money will increase accordingly."

Someone like him probably had an extraordinary background.

A person's Martial Soul was their temperament. This was practically a universal rule on the Douluo Continent.

Ninety-eight percent of Martial Souls were inherited. Even if one mutated, unless the mutation was especially poor, it would still retain similarities to the original Martial Soul.

Liu Erlong's Fire Dragon was a mutation of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon. Because of its Martial Soul traits, people could easily associate her with the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan.

A Martial Soul was one's identity. That much was certain.

And Zhou Qiubai's bearing made it clear that his origins were anything but ordinary.

"Thank you."

Zhou Qiubai put away his badge and turned to leave.

He weighed the money pouch in his hand.

It would last him for a while.

Next, it was time to restock his medicinal herbs.

He first turned into a snack street, intending to fill his stomach.

Zhou Qiubai casually found a noodle stall, sat down, and ordered a bowl of noodles.

While waiting, he looked around.

Most of the customers on this snack street were ordinary people, though there were also a few Soul Masters.

Some sat, some stood, eating and chatting as the lively warmth of everyday life washed over him.

He had not seen such ordinary bustle in a long time.

Just then, his attention was drawn to a young girl.

It was not because of her appearance, but because of what she was doing.

Seven or eight snacks were laid out before her. She took only one or two bites of each before setting it down and moving on to another.

That habit of merely sampling everything clearly suggested a wealthy upbringing.

Yet someone like that was traveling alone.

What truly surprised Zhou Qiubai was the way she paid.

After finishing her meal, the girl untied a small embroidered pouch from her waist. After opening it, she casually took out a Gold Soul Coin and placed it on the table before turning to leave.

The shop owner hurriedly called out, "Miss, your change!"

Without looking back, the girl replied, "Keep it."

One Gold Soul Coin was enough to buy every snack on the whole street. After staring blankly for a moment, the shop owner immediately beamed. "Thank you, Miss! Take care!"

The surrounding diners also turned to look.

What a rich person.

Zhou Qiubai's gaze fell upon that embroidered pouch. It was no ordinary money bag.

It was clearly a Storage Soul Tool.

In the current Douluo Continent, soul tool technology had been lost, and the Sun Moon Continent had yet to collide with it. Storage Soul Tools were exceedingly rare; even the smallest one, with a single cubic meter of space, cost over a thousand Gold Soul Coins.

In an imperial capital like Heaven Dou City, taking out a Storage Soul Tool would not be anything remarkable. But in Suotuo City, while it was not unheard of, it was still scarce.

For this girl to use one so casually to hold loose change, her identity was definitely far from simple.

Moreover, Zhou Qiubai's gaze swept across the edge of her skirt, where an inconspicuous pattern had been embroidered.

A seven-colored treasure tower.

The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

Considering the current time, her identity was practically obvious.

"Ning Rongrong," Zhou Qiubai thought, his eyes lighting up.

The little princess of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect from the original story, one of the Shrek Seven Devils. Spoiled and willful in the early days. He had not expected to encounter her here.

He withdrew his gaze and continued eating his noodles.

Ning Rongrong's affairs had nothing to do with him. Whether it was the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect or Shrek, both belonged to the world of sects, while he was a wanderer of the jianghu and had no desire to get involved.

Just as he was halfway through his meal, Zhou Qiubai suddenly sensed several concealed gazes.

Two people at the tea stall behind and to his left had steady breathing and slow heartbeats. Another stood at the entrance of the silk shop ahead and to his right, with a slightly weaker aura, seemingly observing in secret as well.

What made him even more alert was the inconspicuous middle-aged man standing at the street corner, wearing black-framed crystal glasses.

"Flender." Zhou Qiubai recognized him.

Those guards were likely sent by the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect to protect their young lady.

Flender was probably here to monitor her, just as in the original story.

Two groups, each with their own agenda.

Interesting.

But what did it have to do with him?

After finishing his noodles, Zhou Qiubai paid and got up to leave.

He needed to buy medicinal herbs and prepare for his next medicinal bath.

When he reached the street corner, he instinctively glanced back.

Ning Rongrong had long since disappeared, most likely having returned to the academy.

Flender was gone as well. Only those guards remained scattered through the crowd, appearing casual but actually vigilant.

Zhou Qiubai shook his head and turned into another street.

Zhou Qiubai entered Hundred Herbs Hall and made his way to the counter with practiced ease.

The old shopkeeper was leaning against the counter, taking a light nap. Only when he heard footsteps did he groggily open his eyes. "Oh, you're here again? What do you need this time?"

"The usual." Zhou Qiubai skillfully handed over a list.

The shopkeeper accepted the list, glanced over it, and hurriedly began gathering the herbs. His hands moved deftly as he chatted, "I heard you won seven straight matches at the Great Soul Arena? Even Wind Shadow lost to you?"

News traveled fast. Zhou Qiubai could not help smiling faintly and nodded. "Just luck."

"Luck?" The shopkeeper burst into laughter. "Wind Shadow is a fierce one. I've heard of his reputation. Beating him takes more than luck."

After a pause, he lowered his voice and said mysteriously, "But little brother, I should remind you of something..."

He leaned closer, his expression turning slightly serious. "The Soul Fighting Arena is a deep and murky place. If you have the backing of a sect or noble status, then it's fine. But a Rogue Cultivator without any background can easily draw envy by winning too much. It's best to know when to stop."

"Thank you for the warning." Zhou Qiubai nodded. "I'll be careful."

The shopkeeper shook his head as if helpless and said no more, wrapping up the herbs.

"Seventy-three Gold Soul Coins. Same as usual, make it seventy."

"Thanks."

Zhou Qiubai smiled, paid the money, accepted the wrapped herbs, and turned to leave.

"What are you thanking me for? Still, I have to remind you: medicine is poison in three parts. Watch yourself. Don't end up killing yourself with it."

"I know..."

Just as he was about to finish his sentence, he froze.

Because...

Someone was standing at the entrance.

Ning Rongrong.

At some point, she had followed him here. She stood in the doorway, staring fixedly at Zhou Qiubai's waist—or, more precisely, at the White Clothes Sword.

What was going on?