The spectators below the stage were taken aback for a moment, then erupted into cheers and applause.
They had thought today's bouts were over, but now the arena champion had suddenly taken the stage—wasn't this a great show?
Skinny let out a long sigh of dismay. If this guy was going to fight, why hadn't he given him a heads-up beforehand so he could set up the betting pool?
The book opened for Broken Saber was no longer a simple gamble on who would win or lose. When everyone bet on Broken Saber to win, where was the profit in that?
The derivative wagers had evolved into betting on how many moves he would take to bring down an opponent, whether he would use a specific technique or supernatural skill, or how many challengers would dare step up today...
General Red suddenly raised a hand and slowly clapped three times.
Every clap felt like a strike against everyone's heart.
In just three breaths' time, the arena's surroundings fell completely quiet.
Only then did General Red announce in a clear voice, "This month's live instruction begins now!"
Once a month, the Martial Review Hall held a live demonstration lesson, usually guest-hosted by seasoned commanders, though General Red herself occasionally took the stage.
Yet she was far too busy; in all the times He Lingchuan had entered Panlong City, he had never caught one of her live demonstrations.
General Red continued, "The lesson plan: observe Broken Saber defending a life-and-death arena today. Real weapons are permitted, and gauntlet tactics are allowed."
The entire arena erupted in a roar of astonishment, practically exploding.
Arena bouts in Panlong City usually permitted only the Martial Review Hall's wooden training weapons to prevent accidental death. However, there was another form of arena combat used to settle grudges, known as the "life-and-death arena." In such fights, all restrictions were lifted; fighters could be as vicious and ruthless as they wished. Both parties had to sign a contract beforehand accepting that life or death was at their own risk, and once the match concluded, any grudge—no matter how monumental—was wiped clean.
A life-and-death arena could not be held casually; it required special authorization and occurred less than once every six months.
For General Red to make Broken Saber defend a life-and-death arena, and even allow gauntlet battles, left everyone who knew its brutality dumbfounded.
What crime had Broken Saber committed to deserve such a punishment?
He Lingchuan gave a bitter smile. "General, this..."
"Fight until you die, and you won't be nervous anymore." It was hard to tell whether General Red meant this as comfort.
Wasn't he afraid of death? Once dead, there would be nothing left to be nervous about.
Seeing that no one stepped forward, General Red simply called a name:
"Meng Shan, step forward!"
The crowd parted, and a massive figure hesitated for quite a while before sluggishly shuffling out.
"General..." Meng Shan didn't want to go up. He had fought Broken Saber more than a dozen times and was thoroughly sick of it.
General Red tilted her chin toward the platform. "Get up there."
Having no choice, Meng Shan went to the weapon rack and drew a heavy stave.
Yet General Red didn't let him off so easily. "Where is your spiked club?"
Meng Shan had no choice but to retrieve his signature weapon and leap onto the stage.
This refined-steel spiked club stood nearly half the height of a man. The head was mottled with indelible dark stains, having tasted the flesh and blood of countless foes.
Ever since Meng Shan had surrendered, He Lingchuan had never clashed with him using real weapons, yet his memory of this club remained vivid.
Since the fight was unavoidable, in those mere few breaths he adjusted his mindset and solemnly said to Meng Shan:
"Please!"
Since it had come to this, he would fight!
As he and Meng Shan battled on the platform, General Red stood below, breaking down and explaining the combat to the onlookers.
Not only could they observe real combat, but they also had General Red providing live commentary. Such an opportunity was far too precious; everyone watched unblinkingly.
Naturally, neither He Lingchuan nor Meng Shan had the leisure to listen closely to what she was saying.
After twenty exchanges, Meng Shan was kicked off the stage by He Lingchuan.
Three breaths later, the spiked club that had nearly been hurled into the sky crashed to the ground with a clang, lodging right beside one of the arena's wooden posts.
"Round one, Broken Saber wins." General Red glanced up at the platform. He Lingchuan's chest heaved, but his temples were dry. "You seem to be in good shape; an incense stick's time to rest will suffice. Lao Chunsheng, step forward and prepare to enter the ring!"
A burly, fit man stepped out from the crowd and barked his assent.
His weapons were a pair of broadaxes.
The crowd let out another collective gasp. This man was also a decorated veteran of the Gale Army whose pair of broadaxes had slain over a hundred men. No one expected him to be named as Broken Saber's opponent today.
By now, the lineup of subsequent challengers was also drawn up.
Below the stage, Skinny was run off his feet. The earlier match between He Lingchuan and Meng Shan held little suspense; what everyone wanted to gamble on now was how many rounds Broken Saber could endure.
Since it was a gauntlet, Broken Saber was bound to fall eventually.
Everyone assumed General Red would not truly let him be beaten to death. Only He Lingchuan understood that today's arena matches would not end well.
After an incense stick's time.
Lao Chunsheng leapt onto the platform and said solemnly, "I bear you no grudge, and I respect you, but today I will not hold back in the slightest."
He Lingchuan had already steadied his breathing. Turning sideways, he kept a hand pressed against the hilt of Fusheng to prevent its cold gleam from leaking out:
"As it should be!"
Dusk fell.
After Lao Chunsheng, several more challengers climbed onto the platform. Exactly how many? He Lingchuan could no longer clearly remember.
He had just knocked an opponent flat on his back, unable to move, but he was slumped in a corner of the arena himself, unable to get up for the longest time.
Two of his ribs were broken, half his face was swollen like a pig's head, and blood mixed with sweat streamed down, blinding him whenever it pooled in his eyes.
A three-inch gash on his left flank was gushing blood.
Taking advantage of the interval, A'luo hurried to dress his wounds, whispering, "I'd say you've fought enough. Ask General Red to call it off!"
General Red happened to stroll over to He Lingchuan, hands clasped behind her back as she looked down at him. "Do you want to fight or stop?"
He Lingchuan gave a bitter smile. "Can I stop if I want to?"
He was no longer nervous.
"How will you know unless you try?"
He Lingchuan said earnestly, "Reporting, General: I want to stop fighting."
"Denied," General Red rejected flatly. "The contest will only end when you truly cannot move."
"..." Offering a shred of hope only to snuff it out was worse than giving none at all.
A'luo asked in shock, "Wh-why?"
"No battle ever stops just because you call a halt." General Red walked to the edge of the platform and personally struck the bronze bell. "The bouts continue!"
The moment the first ray of morning sunlight shone in, He Lingchuan woke up.
He blinked, his mind still stuck in that final battle within Panlong City. It seemed to have been the tenth or eleventh opponent; both of them had been gasping like oxen, their lungs feeling like torn bellows that wheezed with every breath.
His consciousness had grown dull; he hadn't even remembered who he was.
He had knocked away the opponent's weapon, but the man ripped up one of the arena's boundary stakes and slammed it violently into He Lingchuan's temple.
During the earlier fighting, the post had already been knocked loose, and two nails still stuck out from it.
He Lingchuan even remembered the sensation of those nails piercing flesh and driving straight into his temple...
Agony, pure agony.
Yet it lasted only an instant.
He must have been knocked out, because he had woken up immediately afterward.
In that split second, he seemed to have heard some bastard below the stage yelling, "I won! I won!"
He had no idea who had profited off his agony by correctly guessing the number of rounds in the gauntlet.
He Lingchuan muttered a couple of curses, then suddenly noticed that his state of mind had transformed upon waking.
After enduring a night of unimaginably brutal gauntlet battles, he had instead settled into a calm detachment—as if that stake had knocked his soul clean out of his body, allowing him to observe himself, others, and everything to come from the perspective of an onlooker.
He didn't know whether this state counted as numbness; either way, he had entered a condition devoid of joy or sorrow, his mind as tranquil as a pool of stagnant water.
General Red's method was crude and extreme, but it worked. At least now he truly wasn't nervous.
Not in the least.
Having fought and struggled with all his might, and having finally accepted death with helpless calm, even death could no longer threaten him.
He Lingchuan let out a long sigh.
When he entered Panlong City last night, he had intended to look up Master Sun, whether to catch up or say farewell, yet he hadn't even caught a glimpse of the fair lady.
Evidently, the Dafang Pot believed that at this moment, what he needed was not tender sentiment.
What a temperamental divine artifact, showing not the slightest consideration for its master's feelings.
He Lingchuan packed his luggage, changed into clean clothes, and strolled out of his quarters.
A night of wind and rain gave way to a morning rainbow bridging the sky, one end appearing to rest right upon the waters of Pianxiang Villa's lake.
The morning air was crisp and chilly.
He Lingchuan stepped aboard a pleasure barge and drifted out onto the lake, closing his eyes amid the rippling green waves to absorb the lessons of last night's battles.
Every life-or-death struggle;
Every ounce of effort spent;
The resolve to meet the next foe unflinchingly, knowing the combat was relentless and endless until he collapsed from exhaustion.
Panlong City was trying to teach him how to face despair.
He knew not how much time passed before a voice called from the shore:
"He Xiao, time to go!"
By now, the sun was high in the sky. Fu Shanyue, swift and decisive as ever, had already returned from Lingxiao Palace.
This trip had been to bid farewell to the Demon Emperor.
The Emperor was currently beside himself with frustration over the elixir of immortality case and National Preceptor Qingyang, and was eager to see him off. During the audience, he made no effort to detain Fu Shanyue, only offering a few polite words for him to pass along to the Demon King of Chiyan.
That afternoon, the Chiyan diplomatic mission departed through the south gate, leaving Lingxu City behind.
Many nobles came to see them off, and a buoyant cheer filled the air. They watched with their own eyes as He Xiao rode alongside the Crown Prince of Chiyan, exiting the grand stage of Lingxu City together.
Yet it mattered little; whether the Chiyan delegation stayed or left, the city's endless amusements would carry on just the same.
He Lingchuan traveled with Fu Shanyue for three days, riding almost day and night, and they had long since put the domain of Lingxu City far behind them.
Throughout those three days, Panlong City did not open to He Lingchuan again.
If they rode hard south for another three or four days, they would reach the northern border of the Chiyan Kingdom.
Eager to return home, Fu Shanyue spurred his horse continuously along the way.
Yet right past Tianshui Relay Station, He Lingchuan bade him farewell.
Knowing He Lingchuan's mind was made up, Fu Shanyue did not try to hold him back, asking only, "Until we meet again?"
"Of course," He Lingchuan smiled. "I believe we'll meet again soon."
"Good." That came straight from Fu Shanyue's heart. "Write often when you have nothing to do."
The two cupped their fists in parting salute, each feeling a pang of sorrow.
The tiger Jiao Yu bounded over, its palm-leaf-sized paws clamping around He Lingchuan's shoulders, rubbing its massive head against his forehead while letting out cow-like lowing sounds.
With its immense strength, an ordinary man would have been bowled over instantly.
He Lingchuan sensed its sadness, wrapped his arms around the beast's huge head, and rubbed it vigorously, feeling deeply reluctant to part. "Every parting comes at last. I'll come visit you later, all right?"
Alas, he still had serious business to attend to.
Fu Shanyue pressed his lips together, mounted his horse, and called out, "If you don't come back with me to Chiyan, you'll regret it sooner or later, heh!" With that, he cracked his whip and rode away without looking back.
Chapter 680