The People of Donghuang Lost with Too Much Dignity

Ye Guyun climbed up from the ground, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and cupped his fists to Jiang Taixuan.

"I lost."

Jiang Taixuan gave him a deep look and suddenly did something no one expected.

He cupped his fists in return.

The Holy Son of Tianque, a top-three existence among the younger generation of the Central State, took the initiative to return a salute to a defeated opponent.

"You didn't lose," Jiang Taixuan said. "When you break through to the third level of the Skysoaring Realm, I will wait for you to fight again."

Ye Guyun turned and walked off the stage.

His steps were somewhat staggering, but his back was straight as a ramrod.

Wang Hao watched this scene from the viewing platform, his smile unchanged, but his fingers gently tapped the armrest of the dragon throne. Wei Zhongxian noticed this movement, and his heart skipped a beat—this was a small habit the Emperor only showed when he was extremely dissatisfied.

"Your Majesty?"

Wang Hao waved his hand, his tone flat: "The embryonic form of Ye Guyun's sword heart was forced out, which is a good thing. But the price was the destruction of his sword. Later, pick a Heaven-rank divine weapon from the national treasury and send it to him."

Wei Zhongxian said in a low voice, "There are only thirty Heaven-rank sword-type divine weapons in the treasury, and the worst among them is of Heaven-rank mid-grade."

"Give him the best," Wang Hao's tone brokered no argument. "For my swordsman, not wielding a Heaven-rank top-grade weapon would mean I have mistreated him."

Wei Zhongxian bowed and accepted the order.

On the arena, the battles continued.

In the second match, Wanyan Gu faced the Holy Son of the Starfall Holy Land, Li Xinghe.

This was a pure clash of strength.

Li Xinghe had cultivated his Star Body Forging Art to the seventh level, making his physical body as tough as a humanoid divine weapon. Standing on the arena, starlight patterns flickered all over his body, and every pore was breathing spiritual energy; he was like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

Wanyan Gu stood opposite him, not holding back either. With a loud roar, his astral qi erupted, and his muscles bulged, stretching his robes until they fluttered loudly.

The two didn't waste words and charged forward at the same time.

In their first exchange of punches, the sleeve on Wanyan Gu's right arm was blasted to shreds, the webbing between his thumb and index finger tore, and blood splattered. Li Xinghe's fist, however, didn't even suffer a scratch. Yet, Wanyan Gu acted as if nothing happened, immediately following up with a second punch. Then came a third, a fourth, a fifth...

The spectating cultivators felt their scalps tingle.

Wanyan Gu's fighting style didn't look like a spar at all; rather, it looked like a fight to the death. Every punch was thrown with all his might, and he used his body to forcefully endure every collision. His fists were quickly battered into a bloody mess, with the bone joints exposed, but his offensive only grew fiercer.

The more Li Xinghe fought, the more alarmed he became.

He had seen madmen, but never a madman like this.

This had completely exceeded the scope of a spar; this was trading one's life for a single punch.

By the fortieth punch, Wanyan Gu could finally hold on no longer and was blasted off the arena by Li Xinghe's punch. He flipped in mid-air and crashed heavily onto the ground, smashing out a three-foot-deep human-shaped crater.

But everyone saw that a cut had appeared on Li Xinghe's fist.

Although it was only half an inch long and merely a flesh wound, it proved one thing—Wanyan Gu's fists could injure a physical body forged by the seventh level of the Star Body Forging Art.

The cultivators of the Central State had fallen silent.

They discovered a terrifying truth: even if the people of the Eastern Wasteland lost, they would make you win covered in bruises. They were like a pack of starving wolves; even if they couldn't bite a tiger to death, they would tear a chunk of flesh from it.

In the third match, Rong Xiaotian faced the Holy Maiden of the Falling Cloud Holy Land, Su Wanqing.

Su Wanqing's Karma Dao martial skills were incredibly bizarre. Every move she made seemed to predict Rong Xiaotian's actions in advance. No matter how Rong Xiaotian changed his moves, she would always appear precisely in his blind spots. The battle was suffocating from the very first second—not because it was intense, but because it was too uncanny.

Rong Xiaotian's boxing style was fierce and overbearing, but every punch struck empty air. Su Wanqing seemed like an existence wandering outside the threads of karma. Her movements were erratic, sometimes appearing behind Rong Xiaotian, sometimes on his left. Every time she struck, she perfectly disrupted the rhythm of Rong Xiaotian's attacks.

By the fiftieth exchange, Rong Xiaotian was already panting heavily. His robes had been slashed in over a dozen places by Su Wanqing's fingertips. Although they were all flesh wounds, the sense of powerlessness from being completely controlled was more devastating than any severe injury.

"Your punches are heavy," Su Wanqing's voice was as soft as water, "but a punch that can't hit its target is meaningless, no matter how heavy it is."

Rong Xiaotian gritted his teeth and suddenly smiled.

"I hit you."

Su Wanqing was taken aback and looked down at her sleeve. A very faint tear had appeared on her left cuff, grazed by the aftershock of his punch's wind.

"Your Karma Dao can predict my movements, but you can't predict the wind of my punches," Rong Xiaotian panted heavily. "The wind of a punch is unintentional; it is untainted by karma."

Su Wanqing fell silent for a moment and gave a slight nod.

"I have learned."

Rong Xiaotian cupped his fists to concede and turned to leave the stage. After taking three steps, he suddenly turned back. "Next time, my fist will be faster than the wind."

Su Wanqing smiled faintly behind her veil. "I will be waiting."

The fourth match, fifth match, sixth match...

The geniuses of the Great Zhou took the stage one by one, and one by one, they were defeated.

But with every defeat, the cheers of the Central State cultivators grew quieter.

Because the people of the Eastern Wasteland lost with too much dignity.

Su Lie faced a true disciple of the Ten Thousand Swords Holy Land who wielded a saber. The two exchanged slashes for exactly a hundred strikes. Su Lie's saber was chopped in half, but he held the broken blade against his opponent's neck for a split second before admitting defeat. If that moment had been a real life-and-death battle, the opponent would have died.

Lin Tiechuan encountered the high-level anomaly tamer from before—Ghost-Faced Granny. The moment this wrinkled old woman stepped onto the stage, the temperature of the entire arena plummeted by over ten degrees. Her anomaly was a ten-foot-long black centipede coiled around her neck, spewing black mist from its mandibles. Wherever the black mist passed, even space seemed to distort. Lin Tiechuan's Vajra Demon Subduing Fist had a restraining effect on anomalies, but the gap in their cultivation realms was too vast. By the sixtieth exchange, the black mist invaded his body, and he conceded with a darkened face.

But the words he spoke when he conceded caused a strange look to flash through Ghost-Faced Granny's eyes: "Your anomaly is indeed formidable. But His Majesty once told me that anomalies are also living beings, and they also have weaknesses. Next time, I will find your weakness."

When Gu Han took the stage, he faced the Holy Son of the Ten Thousand Swords Holy Land, Dugu Que. Dugu Que's sword was fast to the extreme. The moment his sword left its sheath, nine sword shadows appeared on the arena. Gu Han forcefully resisted with his boxing arts. By the seventh sword strike, the bones in his fist shattered, but he still gritted his teeth and didn't retreat a single step.

At the eighth sword strike, Ye Guyun suddenly called out from below the stage: "Three inches from the left shoulder, there's an opening."

Dugu Que's sword paused slightly, and Gu Han took the opportunity to close the distance. His left fist smashed into a weak point of Dugu Que's protective sword qi, actually forcing the Sword Dao Holy Son half a step back.

Although he still lost in the end, when Dugu Que left the stage, he cast several meaningful glances at Ye Guyun.

Zhao Feng and Bai Zhantang also fought in succession, and both lost. But each of them managed to injure their opponent at least once, and each made the Holy Sons of the Central State feel the ruthless tenacity buried deep in the bones of the Eastern Wasteland's geniuses.

By the ninth match, the Great Zhou had already lost six matches.

Only Xiao Chen and Lu Chenzhou had yet to take the stage.

And at this moment, the atmosphere on the viewing platform had completely changed.

Although the Central Continent cultivators were still cheering, their voices clearly lacked confidence. They originally thought today would be a crushing victory. With thirty-seven Holy Sons and Holy Maidens stepping forward, they should have beaten the ten people from the Eastern Wasteland to the point of being completely defenseless.

But the reality was that while the Eastern Wasteland lost every match, they made it so the Central Continent did not win easily in any of them. A win was a win, but something always felt off.

It was as if the opponents they had exhausted all their strength to defeat still wore a smile that said, I did not even go all out.

This feeling left the Central Continent cultivators feeling terribly stifled.

Wang Hao, however, smiled very happily.

He leaned back in his dragon throne, legs crossed, cracking open Kunlun specialty fire-spirit melon seeds while saying to Wei Zhongxian, Old Wei, how is the betting situation today?

Wei Zhongxian flipped through a jade slip and lowered his voice. Your Majesty, the Central Continent side added eighty million spirit stones in bets today, bringing the cumulative total to over two hundred million. The fifty million we bought on the Central Continent winning through our anonymous account currently has odds of one point three five. If we win, we can earn nearly twenty million.

Wang Hao nodded in satisfaction and asked again, How much was bought for our Eastern Wasteland to win?

Wei Zhongxian glanced at the jade slip and his mouth twitched. Three million spirit stones.

Only three million?

Mainly because... no one thinks we can win.

Wang Hao smiled even more brightly.

Wait until Xiao Chen and Lu Chenzhou finish their fight, the odds will drop even lower. By that time—

He did not finish his sentence, but Wei Zhongxian already understood.

The lower the odds, the greater the profit from a reversal.

Right now, the odds for the Eastern Wasteland winning were one to eight. If they lost the final two matches as well, the odds might soar to one to ten or even higher. At that time, Wang Hao only needed to place a massive anonymous bet on himself to win, and then personally take the stage—

Wei Zhongxian did not dare to think any further.

In the tenth match, Xiao Chen faced the Holy Son of the Ten Thousand Swords Sacred Land, Dugu Que.

This was a clash between two Sky Realm experts.

Dugu Que sword cultivation was extremely high. Although not on par with Jiang Taixuan, he could at least rank in the top five among the younger generation of sword cultivators in the Central Continent. His sword arts were renowned for their speed, fast enough to thrust nine swords at the exact same time. All nine swords were real strikes; not a single one was a feint.

Xiao Chen did not use his ruler.

His weapons were his fists—more accurately, fists wrapped in a strange flame.

His strange flame was a pure fire of destruction, a dark red color like coagulated blood, with a temperature so high that the protective array patterns at the edge of the arena began to melt. With every punch, the dark red flames transformed into fist aura that blasted outward, emitting a hissing, scorching sound as it collided with Dugu Que sword qi.

The sword qi retreated steadily in the face of the strange flame.

It was not that Dugu Que sword was not fast enough, but that the strange flame was too overbearing. It did not burn the sword qi itself, but rather the spiritual energy contained within the sword qi. With every thrust, the spiritual energy on the sword blade was rapidly devoured by the strange flame. By the time the tip of the sword reached Xiao Chen, its power had already been weakened by thirty percent.

Dugu Que felt increasingly aggrieved as he fought. His sword path relied on speed to defeat the enemy, but in front of the strange flame, speed actually became a disadvantage. The faster he thrust his sword, the shorter the contact time with the strange flame, but ironically, the more spiritual energy was devoured. He felt as if he was not fighting a person, but wrestling with a cluster of inextinguishable fire.

By the seventieth exchange, Dugu Que sword blade was already covered in scorch marks from the strange flame, and the low-grade Heaven-tier divine weapon let out bursts of sorrowful wails.

He suddenly retracted his sword and retreated.

How about we call this battle a draw?

Xiao Chen also withdrew his strange flame and nodded. Alright.

Dugu Que breathed a sigh of relief.

He did not want to fight anymore. If they continued, his sword would be ruined.

The two stepped down from the arena at the same time.

The tenth match, a draw.

At this point, the Great Zhou had nine losses and one draw in ten battles, while the Central Continent had a complete victory.

This result finally allowed the Central Continent cultivators to breathe a sigh of relief, exhaling the foul breath they had been holding in for ten days. Cheers, mockery, and curses rose and fell in succession.

Did you see that! This is the strength of the Central Continent geniuses!

The Eastern Wasteland is still the Eastern Wasteland in the end; their foundation is far too lacking!

Where is that emperor? Did he not say he was going to personally take the field? Why is he shrinking back and not daring to move?

Listening to these voices, the smile on Wang Hao face did not change in the slightest.

He stood up, walked to the edge of the viewing platform, and raised his hands high.

The cheers gradually subsided, and everyone waited for this Emperor of the Eastern Wasteland to say something to save face.

Wang Hao cleared his throat, his voice so loud and clear that the entire Reception City could hear him plainly.

The geniuses of the Central Continent truly live up to their reputation! I am utterly convinced of my defeat!

Today, the Central Continent has won a complete victory, and I accept this loss wholeheartedly! You all won your spirit stones beautifully!

As soon as these words came out, the Central Continent cultivators were instead stunned.

Something was not right. Why was this emperor so happy?

He lost spirit stones and was still this joyful? Was he crazy?

Only Old Wei and the New Emperor Sword sighed inwardly at the same time.

Pitiful people of the Central Continent.

Little do you know just how much His Majesty earned today.