Chapter Fifty-One: Contest of Warriors—Who Will Prevail? (Part Two)

The next day, as the sun rose in the east, Liusha Town bustled with excitement.

Exclamations of astonishment rang out one after another.

Jiang Yu, Gu Feifei, Xia Qinghan, Lin Dong, and their companions stood in the center of Liusha Town, preparing to attend today’s tournament.

“Li Hao from Cloud City is here!”

A Rolls-Royce Phantom glided slowly down the street.

“The Yuan family of Cloud City—Yuan Tiangang has arrived with a master!”

“The richest man in Jiangbei, Ma Tianzong, has appeared in person!”

“The wealthiest man in Huaizhou, Wu Chuyin, arrives with a consummate expert of Condensed Force!”

“International UFC Heavyweight Champion, Little Bert Hughes, accompanies the Li family from Yanjing!”

“The heir of the Celestial Master Dao’s secret arts, Master Chi Lei, has arrived!”

Hearing the host loudly announce each guest, Xia Qinghan and the others’ faces subtly changed.

Any one of these figures was a regional overlord, yet today, all had gathered. In past years, only Jiangbei’s local bigwigs would attend this tournament, since it was a private gathering established by Jiangbei’s elite. Beyond the province, its reputation was far less prominent.

Most participants were martial arts experts, with only a handful of secular martial artists. This year, not only had the secular martial artists assembled, but even several masters of the Transforming Force had appeared. Just two nights ago, a master was crushed by a mysterious figure. Now, even the half-step grandmaster Shen Wan’an had been drawn to the event.

Many guests had heard of the grandmaster’s emergence and had flown in overnight by private jet, all to witness his presence.

“This year’s tournament will change everything,” Lin Dong said, his tone grave.

At this level, even those like them—experts in Condensed Force—had no voice.

Xia Qinghan smiled faintly. “So many distinguished guests have come, mostly for Shen Wan’an, I’d wager. Though the Shadowkill organization operates overseas, its roots are still here in China. Shen Wan’an’s status is exalted; it’s no surprise he has deep connections.”

Today, two unprecedented events gripped everyone’s anticipation.

First, Yuan Tiangang of Cloud City had invited a half-step grandmaster to publicly challenge Lin Wangtian, seeking to wash away the shame of years past.

Second, Shen Wan’an had issued a challenge, inviting the mysterious expert who appeared before, to fight under the guise of the tournament’s rules.

And yet, the mysterious figure had not responded. After killing Zheng Tianming and Arno’s men, he seemed to have vanished from Liusha Town. But everyone knew in their hearts—he was still here.

“Do you think that mysterious man will accept the challenge?” Xia Qinghan asked, curiosity bright in her eyes.

Young Master Liu, Young Master Wang, and the others debated fiercely, their opinions divided.

“He must have seen Shen Wan’an leap from the helicopter that night—what a display of might and dominance!”

“Perhaps he’s afraid? No one knows his true identity. If he slips away in the shadows, there’s nothing Shen Wan’an can do.”

Young Master Wang shook his head. “No, since he dared to strike down Zheng Tianming, a member of Shadowkill, he clearly doesn’t fear them. The more I think about it, the more I admire that man. If I’m right, he’ll face the challenge head on.”

With that, everyone turned to Lin Dong.

He smiled. “A master’s dignity cannot be trampled. With Shen Wan’an issuing a challenge, how could he ignore it? Silence is as good as assent.”

A look of anticipation shone on each face.

Early that morning, Young Master Liu had spent a fortune to secure tickets to the tournament. Each seat was now selling for hundreds of thousands—perhaps the most expensive tickets in the world.

And prices were still rising. Every attendee was powerful and wealthy; money was no object.

Gu Feifei had not been especially excited at first, but after listening to Young Master Liu and the others discuss it endlessly, her curiosity was piqued, and even she began to look forward to it.

The tournament would be held in Dragon’s Cave.

Over a decade ago, this had been a prosperous phosphate mine, but operations ceased due to external factors. Jiangbei’s powerful figures joined forces and invested heavily to reinforce the mine, hiring designers to transform it into a grand, luxurious underground arena.

It could comfortably seat several hundred people, with a dozen rooms carved into the rock walls, each fitted with tempered glass and suspended above the arena floor. From these rooms, one could view the fights below from every angle.

The project cost over a hundred million—only the combined resources of the elites could have made it possible.

This arena served a purpose; it had settled countless disputes and even marked boundaries of influence for the powerful.

“Wow!” Even Gu Feifei, upon seeing the magnificent underground expanse, couldn’t help but gasp.

To describe it more precisely, it was like an underground football stadium.

Three layers of carpet lined the entrance, and two rows of elegant young women in cheongsams greeted the guests with warm smiles.

Wealthy and powerful men in tailored suits filed in one after another. True to its reputation as Jiangbei’s most famed annual tournament, even the hostesses rivaled China’s top models in beauty.

Young Master Liu’s influence was limited, and since they were all juniors, they had no right to seats in the suspended rooms.

They found seats as close to the front as possible. To witness the event was enough for them. Besides, every attendee was important—no one here was less significant.

With so many powerful figures gathered, who would dare cause trouble?

The Jiangbei Tournament began.

All grudges, rivalries, and interests would be settled today, in the ring.

Gu Feifei and her friends held their breath, eyes glued to the arena.

At first, only some martial arts experts were vying for dominance—nothing too impressive. Jiang Yu seemed uninterested, slouched in his seat, finding the refreshments more appealing than the combat.

“Haha! Liu Big Mouth, your mistress is mine now!”

A moment later, a raucous laugh erupted.

Many shook their heads, unable to suppress a smile.

In the crowd, a burly, bald man’s face turned ashen—he had actually wagered away his mistress?

The rules were simple: so long as both sides agreed, anything could be bet. Going back on a wager was to disrespect the tournament’s code, and with figures like these behind the event, the bald man dared not protest.

The betting pool crossed a hundred million within ten minutes.

Young Master Liu and his friends, caught up in the excitement, placed some bets themselves.

“It’s so bloody—maybe we should leave?” Gu Feifei, unsettled, hesitated.

Jiang Yu smiled. “Where there’s competition, there’s life and death.”

Xia Qinghan reassured her, “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, you’re safe.”

Soon after, Li Hao sent in his Wolfhead, who defeated a martial arts expert and claimed seven underground casinos.

Then the true martial artists took the stage. Wolfhead won three matches in a row, but lost in the fourth to a master at the peak of Condensed Force. Bloodied but undaunted, Wolfhead’s fighting spirit blazed; after collapsing seven or eight times, he finally succumbed to exhaustion on the arena floor.

“So that’s all Wolfhead amounts to?” the winner scoffed, glancing at Li Hao. “Brother Hao, President Li’s ten-million project debt is cleared.”

Li Hao gritted his teeth, silent.

His gaze swept the crowd, as if searching for someone.

Suddenly, a clear, resonant voice rang out: “I’ll go!”

Everyone turned. A vigorous young man strode onto the arena, exuding a chilling aura. His powerful frame and bulging veins spoke of relentless training—each movement was sharp and precise.

“A member of the Special Forces? Since when do they meddle in the affairs of the mundane world?” the Condensed Force master sneered.

The young man was calm. “I, Zhang Lei, am here to handle a matter for my comrade Yuan Tiangang. I have no interest in your business.”

With that, Zhang Lei struck with a thunderous punch—decisive and fierce, his eyes blazed with a warrior’s fearless resolve, like a lion attacking a rabbit with full strength.

The master’s face changed drastically, exclaiming, “A half-step grandmaster?”

The crowd erupted. Just as rumored, Yuan Tiangang had indeed brought a half-step Transforming Force expert.

A meteor falling—savage and unstoppable!

Zhang Lei’s punch surged with energy, like a river returning to the sea, overwhelming and dominant. The force radiated outward—a mark of the master’s rank. The opponent’s pupils contracted as he braced himself with all his might.

“Defend? You think you can stand against me? Lin Wangtian, where are you? Today, I’ll cripple your legs and avenge Tiangang!”

The so-called martial arts master was hurled from the arena, blood flying, his fate uncertain.

Felling a Condensed Force master with a single blow—now that was the might of a grandmaster.

Zhang Lei stood with hands clasped behind his back, surveying the room. “Lin Wangtian, where are you?”

Everyone exchanged glances; the atmosphere was tense and silent.

A deep laugh echoed. “Yuan Tiangang, after all these years, you still remember our last encounter. Very well, today I’ll meet the famed secular expert of the Dragon Soaring Group.”

Lin Wangtian, hair streaked with white, dressed in an old-fashioned white robe and cloth shoes, appeared utterly unremarkable. Who would imagine this man had won three consecutive UFC World Fighting Championships, mastered the way of the fist, and in just three years, ascended to the ranks of grandmasters?

He stepped forward—crossing several meters in a single stride.

“A Transforming Force grandmaster?” Zhang Lei’s heart pounded.

He hadn’t expected Lin Wangtian’s strength to have reached such heights.

Lin Dong, blood surging with excitement, stood up, fists clenched. “Yuan Tiangang, I’ll take you on.”

With a mighty leap, Lin Dong landed on the arena, his spirit undaunted.

“Very well! Today, I, Yuan Tiangang, will defeat you.”