Chapter 16: The Round-Robin Tournament

The crowd below watched Lin Yang's swift and decisive match, erupting into cheers.
“Fantastic! I placed fifty spirit stones on him—this time, I’ve really struck it rich.”
Lin Yang stepped off the stage, keeping an eye on the other arenas. Battles there raged on, each fighter unleashing their techniques and powers. He soon noticed another opponent worthy of attention.
On Ring Five, a burly, muscular man fought alongside Yan Bin.
Previously, Lin Yang had only seen him display the cultivation of the tenth layer of Qi Refinement. But this tournament finally forced him to reveal his physical cultivation.
His combined peak strength of Qi Refinement and Body Tempering battered his opponents, leaving them wailing in defeat. Even Yan Bin’s forceful techniques failed to breach his defense, and he was ultimately beaten off the stage by the brute’s raw power.
“Damn it, anyone who bet on you must be blind,” someone cursed.
“I did, I put down twenty spirit stones,” a weary man wailed, dropping to his knees in despair.
“Oh, isn’t this Liu the Gambler? I remember your spirit stone debt at the Hall of Good Deeds hasn’t been settled yet.”
Soon, the fifth arena concluded its match.
“Ring Five: Liu Hu is the winner,” the referee announced, visibly surprised.
“Who would’ve guessed there was a wolf in sheep’s clothing here.”
Lin Yang assessed Liu Hu’s strength: “He’s probably the third strongest after Duan Chenglong.”
“Still, I’m not worried.” Lin Yang remained confident in his own abilities.
Half an hour passed, and the battles across all rings came to an end. The referee gathered the remaining eleven contestants onto the stage.
He brought out a wooden box.
“Fellow Daoists, please come up and draw lots.”
Lin Yang glanced at the ten others who had successfully advanced. Aside from those he had already noted, none seemed particularly noteworthy. Most possessed only late-stage Qi Refinement cultivation.
After drawing from the box, Lin Yang found his wooden token marked with the number eleven.
Once all had drawn their lots, the referee announced, “This round, Number One faces Number Two, Number Three faces Number Four, and Number Eleven gets a bye.”
Lin Yang quietly noted his luck in being spared from combat this round.

It seemed his luck was holding; he never was fond of fighting.
Clutching his wooden token, Lin Yang returned to the spectator area.
Soon, all contestants took their positions, and the referee signaled the start. Lin Yang watched the matches, occasionally pointing out moves, feeling a bit like an armchair tactician from his previous life.
This round was much more dazzling—those who had made it this far certainly held some cards up their sleeves.
Lin Yang noticed a particularly noteworthy magical artifact. He saw one fighter activate a needle-shaped weapon, which streaked like a flash of light toward his opponent’s head. In an instant, it struck the enemy’s sea of consciousness, leaving him dazed for a moment.
For cultivators, even a brief moment of vulnerability could be fatal. The owner of the artifact seized the opportunity, sweeping his opponent off the stage with a swift move.
Lin Yang marveled at the skilled use of such a weapon.
“This is an essential tool for brawling and robbery.”
“Look how proficient he is with it.”
When the matches ended, six contestants remained, including Lin Yang.
The referee called everyone up to draw lots again. This time, Lin Yang drew number four.
He announced, “Numbers One and Two to Ring One, Three and Four to Ring Two, Five and Six to Ring Three.”
Lin Yang eyed his opponent—it was the body tempering cultivator.
His opponent, upon seeing whom he faced, tensed, adopting a stance reminiscent of a white tiger poised to pounce.
Lin Yang understood his fighting style well; his opponent hoped to close the distance quickly and prevent the use of talismans.
“Too bad—I’m a pentagonal warrior.” Lin Yang, feeling dramatic, tossed his outer and inner garments skyward, revealing muscles white as jade, eight defined abs, and other muscular contours, forming a physique like a work of art, exuding strength.
It was hard to imagine that the seemingly slender Lin Yang possessed such formidable muscles.
“Wow!” The female cultivators in the audience went a bit wild at the sight of his impressive physique.
Even Hong Fu, the Foundation Establishment cultivator watching from the loft, was impressed.
“Oh my, this young man has quite a body. Shame I’m too old now.
“Nangong Wan, why don’t I introduce him to you?” Hong Fu teased, nudging her junior Nangong Wan.

“Don’t tease me, Senior Sister Hong,” Nangong Wan replied, unmoved by Lin Yang’s physique.
At that moment, Lin Yang surged forward, grappling with the body tempering cultivator. Blow for blow, it was a battlefield of raw power and wildness, resembling a boxing match from his previous life.
The visceral exchange of punches sent the atmosphere to a fever pitch, as wild and frenzied as a prize fight.
After a while, his opponent grew exhausted—after all, Lin Yang’s Changchun Technique generated spiritual energy continuously, nourishing his body and restoring strength. The opponent lasted only a quarter of an hour before collapsing in defeat.
“Ring Two: Lin Yang is the winner,” the referee declared.
“Oh, oh—Lin Yang! Lin Yang!” The crowd, thrilled by the intense fight, cheered enthusiastically for him.
As a victor, Lin Yang flexed his muscles on stage, provoking rounds of cheers, though he was soon swept off by a Foundation Establishment cultivator.
Other contestants, observing this scene and recalling what they knew, were astonished—a master of talismans was also a body cultivator.
With the matches concluded, only three remained: Lin Yang, Li Ming, and Duan Chenglong.
It was hardly surprising—the three finalists stood on stage, awaiting a new referee.
Hong Fu from Yellow Maple Valley descended, her alluring gaze casting a spell over the crowd as if she’d stolen their souls. Lin Yang and Duan Chenglong were startled by the sudden illusion, while Li Ming found himself ensnared.
“You two are quite impressive,” Hong Fu praised Lin Yang and Duan Chenglong.
Duan Chenglong struggled inwardly; he’d just seen a vision of his wife in his mind, which jolted him back to reality. Gratefully, he glanced at Lin Yang, admiring his composure.
Little did he know, Lin Yang regarded such illusions with indifference. Compared to being subjected to the charms of Japanese actresses in his previous life, this was nothing—he had more than enough self-control.
“Very well, after discussion, you three will take turns in the ring. Whoever wins the most matches will claim the top spot.
“Who wishes to defend the ring first?”
Lin Yang looked left and right, then decided to take the challenge himself.
“Master, let me defend the ring first,” Lin Yang stepped forward.
“Good, the first defender is Lin Yang.”
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