Into the Urn

Zhang Xiaohua's wish had been a beautiful one, but he had forgotten everyone's ages. He had taken part in the Martial Arts Tournament five years ago, and the Fledgling Eagle Hall disciples who had fought him had only been seven or eight years old. Now, they were merely twelve or thirteen—the very age looked down upon by this group of seventeen-year-old disciples. Back then, these disciples had been about Zhang Xiaohua's age. When they joined the Martial Arts Tournament, they had all been at the fourth or fifth level of Common Cloth. Who would still take part in Fledgling Eagle Hall's preliminary trials?

Five years was neither long nor short. Yet in those five years, the gap between Zhang Xiaohua and the others had once been enormous—and today, it was still enormous. Only, the two sides of that vast gap had switched places. The workings of fate and the opportunities of men truly could not be fathomed lightly!

"Eh? Your Misty Hall has rules like that?" Zhang Xiaohua's mischievous side rose, and he said with a smile, "Then are you the senior brother among this group of disciples?"

"Of course!" Xiao Gonghe proudly raised his head. "In our Misty Hall, whoever has the highest martial arts is the senior brother. Even if you're older, could you keep your face if someone called you senior brother? Would you have the nerve to let them?"

"What you say does make some sense. But let me ask you this: Zhao Jian of your Misty Hall is called senior brother. Does that mean his martial arts are the highest?"

"Zhao Jian?" Xiao Gonghe's face filled with vigilance. "How do you know him?"

Zhang Xiaohua understood at once. It seemed these young disciples had not attended the scene where Chen Chen of Misty Hall punished