Great Soul Arena! The Alternative Playstyle of the Healing Department!

Lan Tian followed the staff member through the crowd, went around the main entrance of the Great Soul Arena, and entered through a side passage.

Oil lamps hung on the walls to either side of the passage. Their dim yellow light shone over the rough stone walls, and the air was thick with the mingled stench of sweat and blood. Faintly, he could hear shouting and cheering from inside; even several layers of stone walls could not block out that lively uproar.

As the staff member walked, he glanced back and struck up a conversation. "How should I address you, sir?"

"My surname is Lan. Just call me Doctor Lan."

"Doctor Lan, let me tell you, it's incredibly rare for healing-type soul masters to fight one-on-one soul battles. Forget two rings—even among three-ring and four-ring healing types, nine out of ten only show their faces in team battles. Hardly anyone signs up for single combat."

There was obvious excitement in the staff member's tone. "And you're a healing type who also knows hand-to-hand combat—that's a first! Once your registration form is handed in later, I'd wager it'll draw plenty of spectators to place bets."

Lan Tian did not respond. He only observed the surroundings in silence.

The end of the passage suddenly opened up into a spacious hall. On the left was a row of counters, where several staff members were busily receiving soul masters who had come to register.

Quite a few people stood scattered around the hall in twos and threes, dressed in all sorts of attire—armor, cloth robes, leather furs, every kind there was. But every single one of them carried a vicious air, making it obvious at a glance that they were the sort who made a living with their fists year-round.

The staff member led him to the counter on the far left and called out to the young woman seated inside, "Xiao Ling, this Doctor Lan wants to register for a one-on-one soul battle. Two-ring Great Soul Master, healing type. Register him."

The young woman behind the counter looked to be in her early twenties. She had a ponytail tied behind her head and was flipping through a thick ledger.

The moment she heard the words healing type, she raised her head and looked Lan Tian up and down several times. "A healing type fighting one-on-one soul battles? Are you certain?"

"I'm certain."

"Two rings, rank twenty-three. Two hundred-year soul rings."

Lan Tian revealed two soul rings and spoke calmly.

After looking, Xiao Ling took out a registration form from under the counter and handed it over. "Fill this out. Alias, rank, martial soul, soul ring configuration, specialty. Write the specialty column clearly so I can arrange a suitable opponent for you."

Lan Tian took the pen and filled it out in a few quick strokes. In the specialty column, he wrote three words: close combat.

Xiao Ling glanced at it, her brows rising. She muttered to the staff member beside her, "There really is someone who knows hand-to-hand combat," then lowered her head and opened another booklet, comparing it against the current list of available contestants. "Mm... There are currently three open one-on-one matches at the two-ring level. One of them happens to have an opponent who also just signed up and, like you, is here for the first time. If both of you agree, I'll arrange that match for fifteen minutes from now."

"Fine." Lan Tian nodded.

Xiao Ling flipped through the booklet again, seeming to check the schedule against the timing, then looked up and said, "By the way, Doctor Lan, do you understand the rules of the soul arena? One bout decides the outcome. Soul skills may be used, and injuries are allowed, but deliberate maiming or killing is forbidden. Violators will be permanently banned by the Great Soul Arena and held accountable. Victory is determined when the opponent admits defeat, loses consciousness, or falls off the soul battle stage."

"Understood."

"Also, if you win, the prize money will be calculated according to your opponent's level and the odds, with a guaranteed minimum starting at ten Gold Soul Coins. Any extra share of audience tips will also be settled for you after the match. If you lose, there is still an appearance fee of two Gold Soul Coins."

Lan Tian nodded and handed the completed form back.

This was much better than it would be over a hundred years later.

After completing the registration, Xiao Ling gave him a number plate with "Arena C-3, Contestant No. 7" written on it, then pointed to a passage on the right side of the hall. "That way is the contestants' preparation area. You can wait there. When it's time, someone will come call you."

Holding the number plate, he passed through the passage and entered a preparation room that was not particularly large.

Inside were wooden stools, a water jug, and a bronze mirror half a person's height.

The edges of the bronze mirror were somewhat mottled, and the reflection it showed was blurry, but Lan Tian paid it no mind. He set down his bundle, loosened his muscles and bones, and removed the four Weighted Rings, each weighing two hundred jin.

When the iron rings hit the ground, they made a dull thud, and the entire floor of the preparation room trembled faintly. The instant his body shed the weight, it became as light as a swallow, every joint filled with a smooth, comfortable flexibility.

About fifteen minutes later, footsteps came from the passage. A uniformed arena attendant pushed open the door and poked his head inside. "Contestant No. 7, it's your turn. Please come with me."

Lan Tian followed the attendant through a dim corridor. Light gradually appeared ahead, and the noisy waves of sound grew louder and louder.

The instant he walked out of the corridor entrance, bright light rushed toward him, and his field of vision abruptly opened wide.

The circular soul battle stage was roughly twenty paces in diameter, its surface covered with a thick layer of sand.

Around the soul battle stage were three tiers of layered spectator stands. At this moment, they were about sixty percent full, with at least seven or eight hundred people present.

The spectators' conversations, cheers, and betting calls mixed together, restless as an active volcano.

Lan Tian walked onto the soul battle stage, and a person also came up from the opposite side.

It was a robust man of about twenty-five or twenty-six, both arms bare. His exposed muscles were knotted and swollen, and a short-handled battle axe hung at his waist.

His skin was dark, his face fierce. The moment he stepped onto the stage, he rolled his neck, producing a series of cracking sounds. Like a leopard preparing to hunt, his steps were steady and rugged; clearly, he was a ruthless character who had been around the soul arena for years.

The host stood on the high platform and cleared his throat. His voice spread through the entire venue via an amplifying soul tool. "Honored guests! Next is today's Arena C-3 one-on-one soul battle! The two contestants are: Contestant No. 7, Doctor Lan, martial soul Blue Silver Grass, two-ring Great Soul Master, healing type! First time competing!"

A buzz rose from the spectator stands.

A healing-type soul master coming to fight a one-on-one soul battle was already enough to make people curious, and everyone's gaze landed on Lan Tian.

The host then turned toward the robust man. "Contestant No. 8, Bas, martial soul Iron Axe Ape, two-ring Great Soul Master, rank twenty-two. Skilled in power suppression and consecutive battle-axe attacks! Great Soul Arena record: seven wins, three losses!"

This time, applause and whistles rose from the stands.

Bas was clearly a familiar face. Many people began whispering among themselves about the odds of victory, and some even shouted vulgar things like, "Bas, knock him down in three hits!"

Bas grinned at Lan Tian and spoke in a rough voice. "Brother, if you're a healing type, you should just stand in the back and heal people. Why come fight one-on-one? Don't worry, I won't hit too hard. If you can't take it, just shout."

Lan Tian did not speak. He merely clenched his fists, lowered his center of gravity slightly, and planted his feet apart.

No Blue Silver Grass vines reached out, and no soul rings rose. He just stood there empty-handed, like an ordinary bystander.