Xiao Chen vs. Ye Guyun: A Life-or-Death Duel, Wang Hao Rakes in Massive Traffic as the Bookmaker

Day three of the Martial Arts Tournament, early morning.

The entire capital was plunged into a state of near-insane excitement.

Taverns, teahouses, casinos, streets, and alleys.

Every mouth was discussing the exact same thing—

"Xiao Chen."

"Ye Guyun."

"Today at noon."

The front page of that day's special edition of the Great Zhou Times used four gleaming black characters—

"One Battle Decides It All."

The subtitle read—

"Grassroots Tiger vs. Sword Dao Genius: Who Will Ascend to the Top Ten of the Prodigy Roll?"

The main text, written in an extremely sensational style, dug up the deeds of Xiao Chen taking a blow for the Great Zhou in the Yanshan Secret Realm, and also embellished the rumors of Ye Guyun cultivating his sword for ten years on Guyun Mountain and sealing throats with a single strike.

The final paragraph provided the finishing touch—

"After this battle, one person may become famous throughout the Eastern Wasteland, while the other may fade into obscurity."

"This is not a martial arts competition."

"This is a—"

"Head-on collision of youthful spirit."

In a teahouse in the capital, the storyteller finished reading this passage and slammed his wooden gavel.

"Everyone!"

"The official betting pools are open!"

"Xiao Chen pays one to one point eight, Ye Guyun pays one to one point six, and a draw—"

"Pays one to eight!"

"Are you betting? Are you betting? Are you betting?"

The crowd below boiled over.

"Bet! I am putting my money on Xiao Chen!"

"I am betting on Ye Guyun!"

"I am betting on a draw! One to eight, brothers!"

"How could it be a draw? Either Xiao Chen wins, or Ye Guyun wins!"

A scrawny old gambler sitting in the corner chuckled.

"Hey, little brother."

"Who opened this betting pool?"

"The Ministry of Revenue."

"And who is behind the Ministry of Revenue?"

"His Majesty, of course."

The old gambler shook his head and sighed.

"Then let me tell you—"

"For a pool opened by His Majesty, the option with the highest odds—"

"Is most likely the one he wants to happen."

"Do not ask me why. If you ask, it is just because—"

"I have learned this the hard way."

The crowd was stunned for a moment.

Then they all turned their eyes toward—

"Draw, one to eight."

...

At the same time, in a side hall of the Imperial Palace.

The Minister of Revenue knelt before Wang Hao, his face covered in an apologetic smile.

"Your Majesty."

"As of three quarters past the hour of Chen, the total silver wagered on the Xiao versus Ye battle is—"

"Ten million, four hundred and seventy thousand taels."

Wang Hao took a slow, leisurely sip of his tea.

"Not enough."

The smile on the face of the Minister of Revenue, Qian Shoucai, froze.

"Y-Your Majesty... ten million, four hundred and seventy thousand taels is already the highest record for a tournament betting pool in the history of our Great Zhou..."

Wang Hao raised his eyes.

"Open another side pool."

"What kind of side pool?"

"Guess the number of moves they exchange."

"Guess who draws blood first."

"Guess the extent of damage to the arena."

"Guess—"

He paused, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

"Which piece of their clothing tears first."

Minister of Revenue Qian Shoucai: "..."

"Is—is—is this appropriate, Your Majesty?"

Wang Hao smiled amiably.

"I am the dealer. If I say it is appropriate, then it is appropriate."

"Do it."

Minister of Revenue Qian Shoucai wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Stealing work from the Directorate of Ceremonial still carried risks; one careless move and he could go down in infamy. But making money was nothing to be ashamed of. The last time they did the Beauty Ranking, the Directorate of Ceremonial made a fortune, and the bigwigs in the Grand Secretariat had long been green with envy. He himself was insanely jealous too.

Wei Zhongxian, standing nearby, was holding back his laughter so hard his stomach hurt.

"Your Majesty..."

"This old servant just wants to ask one thing—"

"Are you hosting a tournament, or running a casino?"

Wang Hao gazed out the window in a leisurely manner.

"Companion Wei."

"This is what you do not understand."

"Hosting a tournament is for vanity."

"Running a casino is for reality."

"What I want is—"

"To grasp both the vanity of fame and the reality of profit."

"This is called—"

He paused, slowly spitting out a few words.

"Fame and fortune."

Wei Zhongxian was filled with profound respect.

Three quarters past noon.

The Great Zhou Martial Arena.

A sea of people.

Almost everyone in the capital who could come had come, and those who could not had sent servants, disciples, or stewards to save them a seat.

The spectator stands were packed to the brim, with even the aisles crammed full of people.

Shen Xue, Yun Meng, and Ren Mingyue sat side by side, their seats situated right in the center of the viewing area.

None of the three wore luxurious clothes today.

Shen Xue was dressed in plain white, Yun Meng in light cyan, and Ren Mingyue in moon-white.

With the three of them sitting there, nearly half the prodigies in the spectator stands were distracted.

Bai Zhantang glanced over from afar and clicked his tongue twice.

"Brothers."

"His Majesty is—"

"Adding another appetizer to today's grand show."

Gu Han remained expressionless: "Shut up."

Up on the high platform, Wang Hao stood with his hands behind his back, dressed in everyday black and gold clothes.

Beside him stood Wei Zhongxian, and behind him stood Yu Huatian.

He looked down at the seething crowd below, thoroughly satisfied.

Then—

The bell rang.

"—The match begins!"

Upon the arena ring.

Xiao Chen took a step forward.

He was not wearing his training uniform today; he had changed back into his washed-out green shirt.

Barehanded, his fist aura was heavy and condensed.

Ye Guyun took a step forward.

He was still in that black robe.

The longsword at his waist was unsheathed, yet it was already causing the air across the entire arena to tremble slightly.

The two men faced each other from a distance of three zhang.

After a long time—

Ye Guyun spoke first.

"Do you know how many people have bet on you today?"

Xiao Chen paused for a moment.

"I do not know."

Ye Guyun smiled faintly, a hint of indescribable irony in his expression.

"Then do you know—"

"Most of the people betting on you are from humble backgrounds, rogue cultivators, and street vendors?"

Xiao Chen froze.

Ye Guyun spoke slowly.

"Most of those betting on me are from aristocratic families, sects, and wealthy merchants."

"This battle between you and me—"

"Has long ceased to be just about us."

"Behind us—"

"The entire Eastern Wasteland is placing its bets."

Xiao Chen fell silent.

He raised his eyes to look at his opponent.

After a long while, he said in a low voice—

"Then will you lose?"

Ye Guyun smiled.

"No."

Xiao Chen also smiled.

"Then neither will I."

In the next breath—

The two moved at the same time.

First move, Xiao Chen's fist broke through the air, aiming straight for Ye Guyun's face.

The wind from his fist tore through the air, bringing with it a visible white stream of airflow.

Ye Guyun did not dodge or evade; the longsword at his waist remained sheathed, but he met the attack with the scabbard.

"Clang!"

A crisp, loud bang.

The array patterns of the entire arena lit up for a moment.

The spectator stands erupted with the first tsunami-like cry of exclamation.

Second move.

Ye Guyun's sword left its sheath.

This sword strike—

Was not a straight thrust, nor a horizontal slash.

Instead, it swept diagonally upwards from below, the sword light like a coiled silver snake, aiming straight for Xiao Chen's lower body.

Xiao Chen turned his body, his fist momentum shifting from hard to soft, unexpectedly using the edge of his fist to forcefully knock away the sword light.

"Clang!"

Sparks flew in all directions.

Third move.

Fourth move.

Fifth move.

...

The speed at which the two exchanged moves was already dazzling the vast majority of the spectators in the stands.

"My god—"

"What kind of speed is this?!"

"Xiao Chen's fist techniques—"

"Ye Guyun's sword—"

"This is what you call a real prodigy!"

In the casinos, the betting odds were changing frantically.

Xiao Chen, one to one point eight.

One to one point six.

One to one point five.

One to one point seven.

Wang Hao sat on the high platform, his expression serious.

But Wei Zhongxian could clearly see—

His fingertips were tapping a certain rhythm at a leisurely pace against the rim of his teacup.

Wei Zhongxian leaned in and asked in a low voice:

"Your Majesty, which side has more bets?"

Wang Hao didn't even turn his head.

"Xiao Chen."

"The casual bettors mostly bet on Xiao Chen."

"But the high rollers—"

He paused for a moment.

"The high rollers mostly bet on Ye Guyun."

Hearing this, Wang Hao nodded gently, an extremely satisfied expression appearing on his face.

"Not bad."

"It shows that the casual bettors have dreams."

"And the high rollers—are more realistic."

"This round—"

"Is perfect."

Wei Zhongxian held back a laugh, "What about a draw?"

Wang Hao smiled faintly.

"A draw—"

"Very few people bet on it."

"Because the one-to-eight odds are too high, no one believes it will happen."

"But—"

He smiled leisurely.

"I believe it."

Wei Zhongxian was taken aback.

Then his pupils suddenly shrank.

He suddenly remembered—

The rules for this match were personally set by His Majesty.

Among them, there was a profoundly obscure clause—

"If both fighters fall to the ground and lose their combat ability at the same time, it shall be deemed a draw."

On the arena stage.

The clash between Xiao Chen and Ye Guyun had already reached a white-hot stage.

Fist winds and sword qi collided in the center of the arena, creating visible vortexes of air.

Array formations lit up time and time again, shattered time and time again, and were instantly repaired by the Ministry of Works' array masters.

After exchanging fifty moves—

Both of them had drawn blood.

Xiao Chen's left arm had been slashed open with a long gash by sword qi.

Ye Guyun's right shoulder had a piece of his robes torn off by fist wind, revealing a dark bruise underneath.

However, the battle intent in their eyes only grew stronger.

"Xiao Chen."

Ye Guyun suddenly spoke.

"Your fists—"

"Have a flavor I've never seen before."

Xiao Chen grinned, blood still hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Your sword—"

"Is even colder than the rumors say."

Ye Guyun also smiled.

"Since that is the case—"

"Then let's use our final move to decide the victor."

Xiao Chen nodded.

"Alright."

In the next breath—

The two retreated three steps simultaneously.

And then—

Exploded with power at the exact same time.

Xiao Chen's fist gathered energy for three full breaths, wrapped in strange flames.

He didn't use any flashy techniques; he simply poured all of his cultivation from the past dozen years, all of his suffering, all of his unwillingness, and all of his obsessions—

Entirely into this single punch.

A layer of the array formation beneath his feet shattered.

The airflow behind him was pulled into a straight line by his fist wind.

Toward Ye Guyun, he—

Threw a punch.

Ye Guyun's sword was drawn in the very same breath.

That sword strike had no wasted movements.

It was just—

A horizontal sweep.

The sword light was like the moon.

The sword intent was like frost.

The air across the entire arena froze into frost under this strike.

Fist and sword collided.

"Boom!!"

A blinding white light erupted in the center of the arena.

The array formations completely shattered.

The array masters from the Ministry of Works collectively coughed up blood.

Everyone in the audience instinctively raised their hands to shield their eyes.

The moment the light dissipated—

On the arena stage—

The two stood facing each other.

Xiao Chen had one fist extended forward.

Ye Guyun had his sword swept horizontally.

The edge of the fist and the edge of the sword were both resting three inches from the other's chest.

But the two of them—

Neither moved an inch.

In the next breath—

Xiao Chen slowly fell forward.

Ye Guyun fell backward at the exact same time.

Almost at the exact same instant, with a heavy thud, the two crashed onto the arena floor.

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.

After a long time.

The chief official of the Ministry of Rites announced with a trembling voice—

"This, this battle—"

"Is a... a... a draw!"

In the next breath.

The entire martial arts arena—

Exploded in an uproar.

"A draw?!"

"A draw?!"

"I bet on Xiao Chen!!!"

"I bet on Ye Guyun!!!"

"One-to-eight odds!!! One-to-eight odds, brothers!!!"

"Did anyone bet on a draw?! Whoever did is going to be rich!!!"

"The Ministry of Revenue... is the Ministry of Revenue going to be emptied out?!"

...

Across the gambling houses of the capital, wails of despair filled the night.

However—

Over at the Ministry of Revenue, no one was crying.

Because—

When Wang Hao opened the betting pool, he personally set the rules.

The payout rule for a draw—

"One-to-eight odds, but thirty percent of the total betting pool must be deducted as an 'Array Formation Damage and Maintenance Fund'."

In other words—

Even if someone actually bet correctly on a draw—

The Ministry of Revenue would still siphon away thirty percent.

As for all the silver bet on Xiao Chen and Ye Guyun—

It all went into the national treasury.

At night.

The Minister of Revenue, Qian Shoucai, holding the account books, knelt in the side hall, his old face flushed red with excitement.

"Your Majesty!"

"For this match—"

"The Ministry of Revenue's net income—"

"In silver—"

"Nine million, two hundred and sixty thousand taels!"

"Plus the income from the side pools—"

"A grand total of—"

"Seventeen million, eight hundred and thirty thousand taels!!"

Wang Hao nodded faintly.

"Mhm."

"Not much."

"Not much?!"

The Minister of Revenue, Qian Shoucai, almost bashed his head against a pillar in shock.

"Your Majesty, this is an astronomical profit—"

Wang Hao waved his hand.

"For the next match, keep the betting pools open."

"Keep expanding them."

"I want to suck all the idle money in the Eastern Wasteland into my treasury."

The Minister of Revenue, Qian Shoucai, agreed with a trembling voice and immediately withdrew to share this joy with the bigwigs of the Grand Secretariat; His Majesty had said that all officials' salaries would be raised by thirty percent.

Meanwhile.

In the side tent of the arena.

Xiao Chen and Ye Guyun had been carried by the medical officers onto the same large bed, lying side by side.

Both were wrapped in white bandages.

Both had been force-fed medicine.

Both were so exhausted they couldn't even lift a single finger.

After a long while.

Xiao Chen turned his head slightly.

"Brother Ye."

"Mhm."

"Were you... really doing it on purpose?"

Ye Guyun kept his eyes closed, and only after a long time did he utter a sentence.

"...I don't know."

"But that final punch of yours—"

"I couldn't block it."

Xiao Chen grinned.

"That final sword strike of yours—"

"I couldn't block it either."

The two fell silent simultaneously.

And then—

Both sneered at the exact same time.

"That dog emperor—"

"He wrote the rules."

"He set the odds for a draw."

"He opened the betting pools."

"He is the—"

"Biggest winner."