Overlord

"Follow the rules once inside. Sign a life-and-death waiver before taking the stage. Once you fight, you decide both victory and death."

After the two guards let him through.

Lu Li crossed the dilapidated courtyard and passed through a narrow corridor before suddenly arriving at a side entrance.

The door stood open. Lu Li held his breath and focused. The instant he stepped inside, a hoarse voice reached him, cold, hard, and numb:

"Newcomer?"

The passage Lu Li had taken was the challengers' entrance. Naturally, gamblers had another main entrance from which to watch the matches.

"Yes." Lu Li nodded, his voice carrying a trace of age.

"Come over here to sign the contract for the ring."

The steward waved the fan in his hand, his gaze sweeping over Lu Li like a venomous snake as he said coldly:

"You know the rules, right? No matter which martial hall or major sect you come from, you are not allowed to reveal your identity. Once you sign the contract and step onto the stage, only if you survive can you collect your money. If you die... then you die."

Lu Li did not even raise his eyelids. "Mm," he said. "This old man knows."

The steward's lips curled into a cold smile. "Cash settlement for every win. Consecutive victories double the payout."

Lu Li coldly spat out a single word. "Fine."

The steward's hand paused slightly as he fanned himself, then he continued, "Newcomers may place bets on themselves. By the rules, the odds are one-to-one, and they will be adjusted according to your victories."

Lu Li thought for a moment, then took out the remaining ninety taels of silver from his clothes and placed them on the table.

Since he was gambling with his life, there was no need to keep money on him.

The steward weighed the black money pouch in his hand. A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes, followed by a deeper smile that did not reach them.

"Good. You've got guts. How many times have you tempered your skin?"

"Four rounds of Skin Tempering." Lu Li answered concisely. There was probably no way to lie about one's strength here. He had not learned any art for concealing his cultivation, so he could only tell the truth.

The steward gave the accountant at the table a look.

Very soon.

The accountant drafted a contract and handed it to Lu Li, telling him that he did not need to sign it, only press his fingerprint onto it.

He then wrote out a betting slip and handed it to Lu Li.

Lu Li pressed his fingerprint onto the contract. After pocketing the betting slip, the steward asked again:

"Do you need a mask?"

Lu Li nodded. He then picked out an especially imposing mask from among the collection and covered his face with it, feeling as though it gave him another sliver of security.

"Oh? The Overlord's mask!?"

"Wait for your number to be called."

Lu Li looked at the betting slip in his hand. It bore the character "Four," which meant there were still three matches before his.

"Masks are allowed here, but once you step onto the stage, you must remove your upper garments and fight bare-chested."

Upon hearing that, Lu Li immediately understood and nodded to show that he knew.

Whenever a Skin Tempering martial artist circulated Primordial Unity Force in battle, the skin membranes across his chest and back would show different colors corresponding to their level of Skin Tempering.

There was no way to conceal that.

When a martial artist who had tempered his skin once exerted force, a pale cyan stripe would appear between his chest and the spine on his back.

Two rounds of Skin Tempering produced pale blue, three produced pale green, four produced pale purple, five produced light red, six produced pale orange, and seven produced pale yellow.

As for eight, nine, and ten rounds, Lu Li did not yet know.

Lu Li had assumed he would be the fourth to fight and had intended to watch the slaughter on the stage first, learning a little from it.

But just as he was about to move, the steward called out, "You're up next. Come with me."

Lu Li froze for an instant. So soon?

The steward sneered. "The 'Four' means Arena Four."

"You've signed the contract. It's too late for regrets now. Come on, get on the stage." The steward's voice carried a mocking smile.

Lu Li said nothing more. Since he was here, he would make the best of it. Going with the flow, he stepped forward and followed the steward.

On the arena stage.

Lu Li held a single-edged saber. His upper body was bare, his hair gray-white, and his frame thin and frail. Yet he wore an overbearing mask, creating a striking contrast.

The arena resembled an opera stage, except it had no curtain. It was like two stages joined together, with spectators packed in a circle below, all manner of people crammed shoulder to shoulder.

Lu Li made a rough estimate. There were perhaps four or five hundred people here, not including the private boxes on the second and third floors.

At that moment, a burly man carrying an iron ruler stepped onto the stage.

Lu Li looked over. The man wore a Rakshasa mask: an indigo-blue asura face with protruding fangs and a third eye on its forehead. His muscles knotted like twisted vines, his skin gleamed with bronze-colored oil, and he gripped an iron ruler in one hand. The gaze behind his mask was gloomy and icy.

"Ninth match, Deathmatch Arena: Overlord versus Rakshasa."

Lu Li looked up as a middle-aged man past forty stepped onto the stage, his voice booming like a bronze bell being struck.

"Honored gentlemen and ladies, today, as ever, I, Mo Tiezhen, shall oversee the arena..."

The entire venue instantly erupted. Cheers, curses, and shouted wagers surged like waves, each crest higher than the last...

"Who is that old man in the Overlord mask? Why isn't he sleeping at this hour? What is he doing here joining the fun?"

"Iron-Faced Rakshasa is a monster with three consecutive wins. There isn't any suspense in this match..."

"Get the hell off the stage, old man! Go die somewhere far away..."

Boos rose one after another.

Mo Tiezhen cleared his throat and continued:

"Overlord's odds are three-point-three. Rakshasa's odds are two-point-five."

Another torrential wave of curses and shouts followed...

Roars and wild cries continued without end, making people's eardrums ache.

Quite a few wealthy landowners, merchants, and martial artists dressed in fine clothes and idly playing with jade thumb rings remained composed. They leaned close and whispered among themselves, seemingly analyzing who would live and who would die...

"Overlord has tempered his skin four times. Rakshasa has tempered his skin three times. You have the time it takes to drink a cup of tea to place your bets."

After Mo Tiezhen spoke, the ticket-collecting thugs waiting by the railings below the stage began moving through the crowd, collecting money with betting slips in hand...

"Dong...!"

A deafening gong exploded through the venue. The clamor was instantly suppressed, and every gaze converged on the bluestone arena, five zhang square.

"Ninth match. Life and death are your own responsibility. Begin!"

The instant the gong fell silent, Rakshasa lunged like a beast released from its cage. Wielding the iron ruler in his hand, he chopped and smashed with explosive gusts of wind, charging forward with ferocious killing might.

Waves churned in Lu Li's eyes, but his heart was exceptionally calm. In an instant, he judged Rakshasa's attack path and silently weighed the order of his moves. His feet had already unfolded the Eight Trigrams Instant-Shadow Step, and his body swayed eerily to one side like willow fluff in the wind, easily evading Rakshasa's first wave of attacks.

His strike missing, Rakshasa did not grow angry. He reversed his grip on the iron ruler and came killing again.

Lu Li seized the timing. This was exactly what he had been waiting for. If Rakshasa had retreated, he would have needed to wait for another chance.

But Rakshasa was too eager to claim victory and neglected his defense, giving Lu Li an opening to exploit.

Lu Li's gaze turned faintly cold. The movement of his feet suddenly changed. Rather than retreat, he skimmed past the edge of Rakshasa's iron ruler and stepped half a pace forward. Like a swimming dragon, he circled to Rakshasa's reverse-grip side and used his saber to pin Rakshasa's iron ruler.

Sensing danger closing in, Rakshasa's pupils shrank sharply. By the time he tried to defend, Lu Li's left hand had already formed a fist and slammed viciously into the hollow beneath Rakshasa's left ribs, where the heart, lungs, and major blood vessels lay.

"Inch Force, Shatter!"

Rakshasa did not even have time to scream. His entire body flew as if struck by a massive hammer. A gaping hole visibly opened in his chest, blood spraying from his mouth as his feet left the ground. He was sent flying off the stage and crashed heavily below, showing no movement for a long while.

From Rakshasa's attack to his fall, only three breaths had passed.

The spectators below instantly fell silent, as quiet as death.

The uproar filling the arena abruptly ceased. Everyone stared wide-eyed at Overlord on the stage in disbelief.

Lu Li stood with his hands behind his back and glanced sideways at Mo Tiezhen.

"The victor has been decided. The winner... Overlord!"