The disciples below, hearing the announcement that the wager match had begun, grew as excited as if they had been injected with chicken blood. They all leaped up and cheered loudly. Zhang Xiaohua, seated properly in the front, was startled stiff by the uproar and instantly submerged in a sea of cheers. Looking around at the disciples with great "terror," Zhang Xiaohua sighed inwardly. Alas, people without aspirations are truly pitiful.
They were this happy over a simple wager match. If there were cheerleaders too...
Before his thought could fully take shape, more than a dozen disciples in fitted outfits sprang out from the shadows at the side with several "whooshes." Some were empty-handed, some held swords, some carried sabers, and several wielded eyebrow-height wooden staffs. Once they had taken up different positions in the open space, they clasped their fists toward the surrounding crowd and began performing flashy but useless routines, like street performers making a living in the martial world.
In an instant, Zhang Xiaohua's thoughts ground to a halt, and his mouth nearly hung open.
This wager match was far too fancy, wasn't it?
Yet, seeing those performing disciples, Zhang Xiaohua suddenly thought of the street performer named Qu Zhigao whom he had saved in Lu Town. That man seemed to know a little about pills and had even given him an old, tattered pill formula. It seemed to have been recorded on Silk Brocade. What was it called again? At the time, he had only just begun learning alchemy and had not understood its significance. He had long since forgotten the name of the pill, casually stuffing it into his clothes. Later, when he obtained the money pouch, he had thrown it into his space and never paid it any attention again. Now that his alchemy