Chapter Eighty-Seven: Losing Control

After a night of drinking, dawn had broken into the next day before anyone knew it.

This was the third round of the Grand Rites of the Celestial Master, the bracket for the top seventeen. Perhaps because of last night’s bonfire celebration, many of the contestants had dark circles under their eyes and looked exhausted.

Because of the number of participants, one lucky person would receive a bye in today’s nine matches.

The remaining eight bouts would proceed as scheduled.

Ye Yan’s luck was not especially good; he had not drawn the bye. His opponent was Lu Qi, a man from the Fist Sect, a half-and-half body-tempering practitioner, and something of a rising figure in the arena.

When Ye Yan arrived at the venue, he found that the spectators in his section were already packed to the brim.

The signs that once read “Ye Is Shy” and “Fair and Square” had long since vanished.

In their place were signs like “Night Watchman” and “Ye Yan,” bright and impossible to miss.

It was clear they were all supporting him, and among them Ye Yan could even hear many fervent cries, such as pleas for him to have children.

Ye Yan couldn’t be bothered to care.

He assumed that after defeating Zhang Lingyu last night, his identity had been thoroughly exposed.

Still, he had made up his mind: no matter what others said, no matter what they said, he was Ye Liangchen, and he would never admit that he was Ye Yan.

Never, even if beaten to death.

As always, everything was handled according to procedure. By the time Ye Yan arrived, his opponent, Lu Qi, was already waiting inside.

Though he was from the Fist Sect and half a body-refining practitioner besides, Lu Qi did not look nearly as fearsome as one might have imagined. On the contrary, there was something refined about him.

A pretty boy sort of air.

While Ye Yan was sizing him up, Lu Qi was likewise studying Ye Yan.

After a moment, he finally asked, “Are you Ye Yan?”

Ye Yan said nothing. He simply released his four banner spirits, then prepared to find a corner to lurk in and quietly wait for the match to end.

But before he had even taken two steps, Lu Qi on the opposite side had already shaken his head and then looked to the referee.

“No need to fight. I concede.”

“...”

Ye Yan stopped in his tracks, confusion in his eyes.

Lu Qi smiled openly. “I can’t beat you anyway. No point making a fool of myself.”

With that, he shook his head and turned away without another word, leaving the arena with an easy, untroubled stride.

“Ye Liangchen wins.”

The referee’s voice rang out at just the right moment, announcing the end of the match.

Though he was the victor, Ye Yan felt no satisfaction at all, only speechless exasperation.

...

...

A nutritionally empty match had come to an end.

Ye Yan advanced smoothly.

With nothing else to do, he quickly ran over to Zhang Chulan’s arena to watch the next fight.

Today Zhang Chulan’s opponent was Tang Wenlong, a highly regarded expert of the Tang Clan, while Zhang Chulan himself was that shameless bastard everyone loved to hate.

“Don’t hold back, Tang Wenlong. Beat Zhang Chulan, that shameless thing, to death.”

“Come on, I’m rooting for you.”

“Teach that disgraceful bastard a good lesson.”

“...”

You didn’t even need to look at anything else; just from the cries in the stands, you could tell who had the stronger support.

Especially Zhang Chulan’s number one hater since the start of the Grand Rites, Xiao Huohuo, who was in the very front row of the spectators, hopping up and down.

As someone Zhang Chulan had humiliated before, his greatest wish was to see that bastard lose.

And the more miserably, the better.

Last match, the mysterious Green Talisman Spirit, Dan Shitong, had vanished, and that had already left him furious. So for this bout, he had pinned all his hopes on it.

All he wanted was for Tang Wenlong to deliver.

By the time Ye Yan reached the stands, the match had just begun, and Zhang Chulan was finally setting his stance, ready to fight head-on at last.

In his first two matches, against Dan Shitong and Xiao Huohuo, he had at least had some idea of what to expect.

But he had no confidence at all against Tang Wenlong.

This disciple of the Tang Clan had a fearsome reputation, and his poison arts were the authentic, unadulterated inheritance of the sect. For Zhang Chulan, he was unquestionably a troublesome opponent.

Unlike Zhang Chulan’s caution, Tang Wenlong on the other side showed no change in expression. He stood loose and casual, hands in his pockets, studying his opponent.

After a long while, he merely shrugged.

Without saying a word, he raised his hand and turned to the referee in the distance.

“No need to fight. I concede.”

“Concede?”

Zhang Chulan, already set in his stance, froze on the spot and looked at Tang Wenlong in bewilderment.

He had no idea why his opponent had suddenly and inexplicably surrendered in a perfectly ordinary match.

Could it be that the man had been overwhelmed by the kingly aura radiating from him?

That seemed unlikely. He wasn’t the protagonist of some feel-good novel, after all. He didn’t have that sort of ability.

Zhang Chulan couldn’t make sense of it no matter how he thought about it.

After raising his hand to forfeit, Tang Wenlong calmly left the arena, leaving Zhang Chulan alone behind him.

At that, Xiao Huohuo outside the arena completely exploded. He shouted as he leaped down from the stands, bellowing at the top of his lungs, “There’s definitely something fishy going on! I won’t accept this! Why is Tang Wenlong conceding? Why is Zhang Chulan winning?”

“Fixed match! It’s definitely a fixed match!”

As he charged in, the spectators who had been stunned into silence began to wake as well, and one after another they joined in the chorus of outrage, shouting that the fight was rigged.

In an instant, the entire arena was drowned beneath the boiling uproar over a fixed match.

Even Zhang Chulan was startled by the sudden roar and stood there dumbfounded.

Xiao Huohuo, who had just come down from the stands, was immediately pinned to the ground by two Longhu Mountain Taoists with swift, practiced hands.

“Kid, you again? We told you before, Longhu Mountain is not the place for private vendettas.”

“Two Taoist masters, can’t you see it? This is a fixed match, there’s black幕—Zhang Chulan cheated!”

“Kid, what do you mean by that? Are you saying Longhu Mountain is neglecting its duties? Since you’re claiming Zhang Chulan cheated, where’s the proof?”

“Two Daoist masters, I’m not trying to slander Longhu Mountain. I’m saying this entirely about Zhang Chulan. That shameless bastard—why should he be able to make Dan Shitong and Tang Wenlong surrender?”

“There’s definitely something shady here.”

Pinned to the ground, Xiao Huohuo showed no fear at all. His gaze at Zhang Chulan burned with endless fury, like a maddened stray dog.

He glared at Zhang Chulan with all his might.

“I demand that Longhu Mountain investigate this matter thoroughly. Tang Wenlong and the others must have been threatened by someone to act this way. That has to be it.”

With Xiao Huohuo stirring things up like this, Tang Wenlong’s surrender was suddenly blown into a major affair. More and more spectators joined the condemnation, demanding that Longhu Mountain investigate the matter to the end. After all, Zhang Chulan had already won three straight rounds without using any real strength.

It was hard not to let the imagination run wild.

The two Taoists exchanged glances.

On the stage, Zhang Chulan was also staring blankly, feeling that the whole situation was growing stranger by the minute.