Individual Matches · Bracket

The drawing of lots was arranged for the following morning.

At first light, the stands of Linhe City Arena were already packed to the brim.

After last night's battle, the entire city had erupted. Three gambling houses had fled, twelve taverns had been smashed up, and the city guard had been dispatched four times overnight before they barely managed to suppress the unrest.

But today, everyone who was supposed to come had shown up.

At the very center of the arena stood two red-bronze lottery cylinders, their bodies engraved with the tournament committee's emblem and gleaming with a cold, hard light beneath the morning sun.

The head referee personally presided over the event, his expression solemn. The two assistants beside him wore exhaustion they could not conceal.

The rules were simple to the point of brutality.

Each side sent out seven people to draw lots in order.

Whatever number they drew determined which position they fought.

Seven individual matches. The first to four victories claimed the final win.

When Tang San stepped forward, the arena of tens of thousands fell eerily silent for an instant.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on his right hand, wrapped in thick bandages.

The bandages ran from the base of his palm to the middle of his forearm, like a glaringly pale brand.

His posture remained straight as he walked, his spine rigid as a spear.

But everyone saw it—

He drew his lot with his left hand.

Across from him, Su Chen had both hands in his pockets, looking lazy. He could not even be bothered to glance at the lottery cylinder.

Chu Yao drew for him.

Her fingers paused at the mouth of the cylinder, her voice carrying a trace of teasing provocation. "Aren't you afraid I'll draw you a terrible lot?"

"You won't," Su Chen said blandly.

"Why not?"

"Because you want to win even more than I do."

Chu Yao snorted. Without another word, she flicked her fingers and cleanly drew out a lot.

Seven lots. The dust had settled.

After verifying them, the head referee turned and hung an enormous match chart on the notice board at the center of the arena.

Seven rows of inked words slashed down the massive wooden board like seven bolts of thunder.

Match One: Jiang Tieyi VS Dai Mubai.

Match Two: Chu Yao VS Oscar.

Match Three: Yan Wuji VS Ma Hongjun.

Match Four: Ling Shuang VS Zhu Zhuqing.

Match Five: Ye Linglong VS Ning Rongrong.

Match Six: Mo Qianye VS Xiao Wu.

Match Seven: Su Chen VS Tang San.

The stands exploded.

It was not a sudden burst of chaotic noise.

It was a suffocating reaction that spread from person to person.

The people in the front rows saw it clearly, then seized the arms of those beside them, their eyes bulging wide.

The people beside them followed the direction they pointed, then made the exact same motion.

One spread to ten, ten spread to a hundred.

When the commotion reached the final row, when everyone had seen those seven lines, the accumulated roar erupted with a boom, nearly tearing the arena's dome off its supports!

At the commentators' booth, Linhe City's chief commentator dropped the amplification soul tool in his hand onto the table with a snap.

"Heavens! Good heavens! Look at this bracket!" His voice cracked, rough as if scraped by sandpaper. "Match One! Savage Ancient Ape against Evil-Eyed White Tiger! Ultimate gravity against ultimate strength!"

"Match Three! Profound Ice Dragon against Evil Fire Phoenix! The fated clash of ice and fire! Was this script written in advance?" The assistant commentator slammed a fist onto the table, his face flushed red.

"Match Five! Look at Match Five! Seven Treasure Glazed Tower against Annihilation Demon Eyes! The strongest support against the strangest spiritual-type power! One enhances allies, the other curses enemies! How are they supposed to fight this?"

"And..." The chief commentator's voice suddenly lowered. The entire roaring arena seemed to have its heartbeat seized by that low tone and fell quiet for a beat.

He spoke each word slowly, his voice so heavy it could have crushed holes into the ground.

"Match Seven."

"Su Chen, versus, Tang San."

Those six words were like six enormous mountains crashing down over the arena.

In a corner of the stands, three middle-aged men in casual clothes exchanged glances, their faces pale. They were the only gambling-house bookies left in the city, the few who had been lucky enough not to shut down and flee last night.

"Do... do we open the betting?"

"Open it! If we don't open today, we might as well quit this business!"

"How do we set the odds?"

"The first six matches are easy enough, but this seventh one..."

The three fell into dead silence.

At last, a new odds chart was posted with trembling hands—Su Chen, 1 to 1.1. Tang San, 1 to 1.7.

Within half an hour, the line of gamblers at the counter stretched from the entrance all the way to the street corner.

Strangely enough, hardly anyone bet on Su Chen.

Those betting on Tang San formed a long, winding queue.

The reason was known to everyone.

The final scene of last night's team battle had been branded into the minds of every person in the city.

Tang San had single-handedly torn through the Dark Golden Terrorclaw Bear's defenses amid a storm of shattered stone.

That Haotian Hammer had left a bloody mark on Su Chen's right cheekbone.

Even during this morning's drawing, the thinly scabbed wound remained clearly visible.

A Tang San whose hands and feet had been tied down by six teammates had still managed that much.

So what about one-on-one?

There would be no Xiao Wu to protect.

No Ning Rongrong to look after.

No formation to maintain.

There would only be Blue Silver Grass, the Haotian Hammer, Purple Demon Eyes, Ghost Shadow Trace, and a sky full of hidden weapons.

Every killing move would be unleashed upon one person alone.

With Tang San like that—who dared say he was certain to lose?

"Are you insane? He got crushed by all seven of them in twelve minutes last night, and you're still betting on him? Do you have money to burn?"

"What the hell do you know? Can a team battle compare to an individual match? Tang San was dragged down by his teammates! One-on-one, he's a monster!"

"Su Chen can summon forty soul beasts. What the hell is Tang San supposed to fight him with?"

"The individual arena is only thirty meters across! Forty soul beasts can't even fit standing up! The venue restricts Su Chen, not Tang San!"

As soon as those words were spoken, even the passersby watching the spectacle nodded unconsciously.

That was the true source of confidence for those betting on Tang San.

As the crowd dispersed, they passed Sky Abyss Academy's rest area, and countless gazes peered inside.

Jiang Tieyi was squatting by the entrance, gnawing on a glossy, grease-covered mutton leg bone.

"Brother Tieyi! You're fighting Dai Mubai in the first match! Nervous?" someone shouted from the crowd.

Jiang Tieyi raised his head, still holding the bone in his mouth, and answered indistinctly:

"Nervous about what?"

With a crack, he bit through the bone and chewed noisily.

"The White Tiger is pretty tough."

"But in my life, I've smashed the hardest rocks in mine shafts, and there hasn't been a single one I couldn't break."

Yan Wuji passed by beside him holding a teacup. He gave him a glance. "When you're fighting a person, don't really treat him like a rock."

"There's a difference?"

"...Seems like there really isn't."

The crowd burst into laughter, the atmosphere so relaxed it felt as though they were on an outing.

Meanwhile, at Shrek Academy's courtyard, the atmosphere was oppressive as iron.

The courtyard gates were tightly shut.

The master stood in the yard, holding a copied match chart. He had been standing there for a quarter of an hour. The edges of the paper had been frayed by his fingernails unconsciously digging into them.

"Match One, Mubai against Jiang Tieyi." The master lowered the paper. "White Tiger against Savage Ancient Ape."

Dai Mubai stood opposite him with his arms folded. The purple patterns on the web of his hand remained vicious, but the fire burning in his eyes overpowered the pain of the poison wound.

"The Savage Ancient Ape's core abilities are its supergravity field and physical defense. Your path is pure strength as well." The master paused. "In a direct clash, you're at a disadvantage."

"I know."

"Your White Tiger Vajra Transformation can unleash extreme power in an instant. But once he activates his gravity field, every punch you throw will lose at least forty percent of its force."

Dai Mubai said nothing.

"So you cannot fight a war of attrition." The master raised his head, his gaze blazing. "You must... win quickly."

Ma Hongjun raised a hand from the side, his face pale. "Teacher, Yan Wuji's Profound Ice Dragon... can my fire really burn through his ice?"

The master's expression became incomparably grave.

"In theory, fire restrains ice."

"But Yan Wuji's ice is no ordinary ice. It is extreme cold approaching Absolute Zero. No matter how high the temperature of your evil fire is, against that level of 'cold'..."

The master did not finish.

But the color drained further from Ma Hongjun's face.

In the corner, Ning Rongrong sat on the steps with her knees hugged to her chest, her head buried deeply.

Match Five.

Ye Linglong.

Those crimson eyes, so unlike a human's, would not leave her mind.

The lingering effects of All Thoughts Turn to Ash had yet to fade.

Whenever she tried to activate the Seven Treasure Glazed Tower, there was always an instant when the tower's light dimmed to gray.

Only for an instant.

But her opponent was a monster of the spiritual type.

A momentary opening meant death.

Tang San walked over to Ning Rongrong's side. He did not crouch down, merely stood quietly beside her.

"Rongrong."

"...Mm."

"You don't need to win."

Ning Rongrong abruptly raised her head, her eyes full of shock.

"You only need to step onto that stage and hold up your tower." Tang San's gaze passed over the courtyard wall toward the arena, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Hold it up until you can't anymore."

"Leave the rest to us."

Ning Rongrong opened her mouth. Tears swirled in her eyes, and at last she nodded hard.

Tang San turned and looked at the master.

"Match Seven. I'm fighting Su Chen."

The master's gaze fell upon Tang San's heavily bandaged right hand.

"Your bone fracture—"

"It'll be in time." Tang San flexed his fingers twice. A faint sound of bones grinding came from beneath the bandages, enough to make anyone's teeth ache. "The recovery ability of the Xuantian Technique. Two days is enough."

The master remained silent for several seconds.

"The individual battle stage is thirty meters in diameter."

"I know."

"His Summoning Space will be severely restricted."

"I know."

"But he knows that too." The master's voice grew increasingly heavy. "He won't be stupid enough to cram the platform full of soul beasts on a thirty-meter stage. He'll select summons best suited for fighting in confined spaces."

"—Most likely, Nether Shadow Leopards."

Tang San's pupils contracted slightly.

"Ten Shadow Leopards capable of moving through shadows, on an enclosed circular platform thirty meters across..."

"That would be ten top assassins locking onto me at once." Tang San took over, the corner of his mouth curling into a hard, cold arc. "I've fought situations more disgusting than this."

The master looked at him, at the resolve in his eyes, and finally said no more.

He folded the paper in his hand once, then again, and tucked it into his pocket.

"In two days, the first individual match."

The seven people in the courtyard stood, sat, or leaned against the wall.

But in all their eyes burned the same thing.

Not confidence.

It was the fire of vengeance, the refusal to ever accept defeat.

Third floor.

Behind the window, Su Chen toyed with that weightless match chart.

His gaze paused on the final line for three seconds.

Then he folded the paper in half and casually set it on the corner of the table.

"Seven scenes."

He turned his chair toward the window. The sky on the horizon was turning pale, while the moonlight had yet to fade completely.

"Not one can be missing."

Chu Yao leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, half her face hidden in shadow.

"You mean, let them win what they were supposed to win?"

Su Chen did not turn around. His voice was as calm as if he were stating a fact.

"No."

"It's to make every one of them slam hard into the wall called 'limit.'"

Chu Yao's breathing stalled for a moment.

Su Chen's voice continued to echo through the empty room, carrying a chilling indifference.

"Then, in despair, they'll see clearly what they truly are."

Down in the courtyard, Iron Wall suddenly sneezed with earth-shaking force, making the window frame hum.

Su Chen rubbed his ear.

"...And while we're at it, make Iron Wall drink less mutton soup. Jiang Tieyi is about to fall out with it."