"Too weak."
Dai Mubai frowned. Ma Hongjun's smile froze on his face.
"Third Brother, what do you mean by that?" Dai Mubai's voice sank slightly. He could accept the fact that Tang San was stronger than him, but being called "too weak" to his face would make anyone uncomfortable.
"Exactly what it says." Tang San's gaze did not ripple in the slightest. His dark red eyes appeared especially profound beneath the midday light. "Boss Dai, you're a prince of the Star Luo Empire. You know better than I do who your opponent is. Dai Weisi is several years older than you, and his soul power is at least five levels higher. If you run into him during the tournament, what will you use to fight him? And you, Fatty—you're a level thirty-eight Soul Exalt, not even a Soul Ancestor. Once you step onto the arena, you probably won't even be able to defeat that support-system Soul Master from the Tianshui Team."
Ma Hongjun's face flushed crimson. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, only to find that he had no argument to make. Every word Tang San had spoken was true.
"There are only a dozen or so days left until the tournament." Tang San continued, his tone still calm. "At a normal cultivation speed, you won't even rise one level in that time. When you get onto the arena, I might be able to win the individual matches by myself, but what about team battles? In a seven-man team battle, how many can I fight alone? If you get instantly taken out by the enemy Soul Ancestors and Soul Kings in the first round, what are my chances against seven opponents by myself?"
Dai Mubai fell silent. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.