The circular stairs were buzzing with voices, and the tumultuous noise was unending, as if the spectators were more excited than the competitors themselves.
Kun Lan, standing outside the iron railing, was actually not accustomed to such a scene. Being an older person, he disliked pointless actions and pandering to the crowd’s cheers, but he was also unsure whether the upcoming fight should be performative in nature.
Having joined the official competition, even just for the preliminaries, Kun Lan dressed more formally, taking off his showy, wide-brimmed cowboy hat and not wearing his flashy leather jacket.
It also had the purpose of hiding his identity.
He wore only the leather armor provided by the organizers and a bullhorn helmet that covered the upper half of his face.
The martial arts competition had requirements for attire and armor; participants couldn’t bring any weapons to the arena, a strict rule. Otherwise, Golden Dragon Warriors could wreak havoc everywhere. Armor was limited to protection of the trunk and head and had to be provided by the organizers—only Aran standard-issue leather armor and assembly-line style iron helmets. To put it mildly, it was better than nothing.
Of course, Kun Lan was not hiding from the organizers but from his own clan, the Life Weaving Society.
Once the time was ripe, every member would be dispatched to correct the trajectory of the world’s fate – to put it another way...
Kun Lan did not consider himself the type for noble sacrifices.
Before his defection, his clan had not foreseen his betrayal, leading Kun Lan to believe that the so-called trajectory of fate was nothing but nonsense.
The battlefield was about the size of five soccer fields put together, with complex terrain featuring elevation changes, slopes, and woods.
It simulated the most widespread types of terrain.
Under his bullhorn helmet, Kun Lan’s golden eyes narrowed as he looked across the field and saw a green-skinned Beastman over a hundred meters away, about two and a half meters tall with thick muscles, and one could imagine the monster power he possessed.
The battle had, in fact, already begun.
Kun Lan was not in a hurry and strolled leisurely toward the weapons rack.
These were all standard-issue iron weapons, with no Magic Energy Material involved.
On the other hand, the Beastman was quite aggressive, firm in the belief that bigger meant stronger, he grabbed the biggest weapon from his side of the rack—a Big Spear weighing thirty or forty pounds.
To conserve energy, the Beastman moved slowly towards the center of the battlefield.
Many who came to the Continent Martial Arts Competition were already death row inmates, those who no longer wished to hide and wanted to try their luck, or even those who were already in prison and had applied directly.
There were a few contestants who believed they were unmatched in the world, but more were hoping to redeem their crimes with merit. Naturally, champions would be in the limelight, but in reality, as long as one made it to the Imperial City finals, within the top one thousand, they could be pardoned, and becoming an officer was not problematic.
So, the Continent Martial Arts Competition was a double-edged sword with overwhelming force. Security might be slightly disrupted during this period, but it wouldn’t be too chaotic, and the economy, in turn, was severely stimulated.
But this was only a superficial phenomenon.
The Emperor was the real high-end strategist, a man in the stratosphere.
One of the biggest issues with the Military Government was the lack of fresh blood. Many officials were kin, with one recommending another, and that person recommending others. In a few years, complete chaos could ensue, and the cabinet would be full of scum and vermin groping for money, the men all like Gu Yue Fang Yuan and the women like Gu Yue Fang Yuan, just facial ejaculations at most. Making money, after all, wasn’t shameful.
Small countries were manageable, playing such games with populations in the small millions was feasible, and the people below couldn’t cause too much of a stir.
But once the scale reached a certain threshold, it was inevitable that the system would collapse within a few years.
Aran was also a Military Government.
And the Continent Martial Arts Competition was a special method of military officer recruitment, free of any under-the-table dealings or nepotism, direct hiring by Boss.
Every year, it would supply the Alan Royal Court with a large number of officers. It could challenge the existing officer interest groups and various factions, effecting a degree of power reshuffling while maintaining a court that preferred not to act rather than make mistakes, remaining cautious and painstaking.
But there were also costs involved.
Just as it was described in the Heaven’s Wolong Cabin, the terrifying internal competion among officers turned Aran into an endless war machine, that would continue to operate until the machine collapsed.
Even the Emperor could not stop it. Otherwise, the consequences of the backlash from the Eternal Sect and anti-imperialists would be incalculable. Though he was in his prime now, he would eventually age, and when internal and external troubles arose, if places like the Great Wetland and the Northern Realm also raised the banner of rebellion, the situation would come down to "the Emperor defends the country’s gate, and the King dies for the state."
With the current operations continuing.
Before the Emperor’s death.
Whether doomsday or collapse would come first.
The target was an Aran Army Master. Regardless of whether it was amidst fire, water, or forest, he must be killed.
Kun Lan picked up a standard-issue Iron Sword from the weapons rack.
There are three main types of Magic Techniques in the world: arcane, Spell, and Spell.
But the Magic of Demon Hunters is independent of these three, a kind called Magic Seal inscribed within the body of the Demon Hunter, requiring no incantation.
It’s like a module on a socket, activated at any moment.
Kun Lan possessed the ability to... correct the world’s fate trajectory.
Looking to the independent stands.
"Damn, he’s dawdling. Is he going to fight or not?"
Liszt didn’t know Kun Lan’s name, nor did he know that the person on the field was the one who had stabbed through Fuma Keqing’s heart.
He didn’t care about the sides that were fighting.
He was just looking forward to Rag Head’s appearance.
Isis wasn’t very interested in the fight on the field, and the thunderous noise around her didn’t affect her. She kept turning back to look at Liszt.
She couldn’t possibly forget that face, especially since the newspapers two months ago had reopened the sealed memories she had almost forgotten.
The convict who had once deceived her out of her boat fare and also swindled her virginity was now the notorious leader in the lawless zone.
His physique and the upper half of his face slowly began to overlap.
But Isis still couldn’t believe it.
What if it was true? Although she didn’t wear a wedding ring, she had a fiancé and should be loyal to her future husband.
Even if it was true, she should just pretend not to recognize him.
Immediately, she regretted it, feeling indecisive and uncertain.
Because with Liszt... at that time, it was his mother’s Titanic, one of the iconic scenes in film history.
Although there were no handprints on the car window glass, there were handprints all over the porthole.
Despite saying it out loud in a very sensual way, it had been many years since she had been thoroughly handled like that.
"It’s on, they’re fighting."
Galen belonged to that type of person who, when watching horror movies, felt extreme empathy and would remind the characters not to go there, not to do certain things. He started to sweat for the shorty in the ring with the bullhorn helmet.
The Beastman was a good half head taller than Kun Lan—one slap could probably send his head flying. How was he supposed to fight?
The Beastman let out a terrifying war cry, intimidating Kun Lan, and the loud roar almost covered the crowd’s cheers.
The Big Spear, like lightning and a traveling snake, crossed and dazzled under the sun with blinding flashes, and the stormy assault on Kun Lan’s body aimed for his vitals—head, chest, abdomen. Chapters first released on novel·fire.net
The Beastman also held the terrain advantage, charging down from the slope, completely suppressing Kun Lan. The standard long sword had already notched from the forceful swings of the Big Spear, and he himself was retreating, about to be driven to the edge of the arena.
The Third District was bustling because it was said that yesterday the Golden-eyed man and Rag Head had shown their prowess. Now, seeing the current match, many in the audience were disappointed.
The Beastman, like a man gone mad, believed that the best defense was to attack, and the brutal assault left Kun Lan no chance to strike back.
Kun Lan didn’t intend to take the crown, just to make the top hundred and become an official to get by; he didn’t need to draw too much attention—his tactics had to be saved for the finals in the Imperial City.
The participants in the preliminary round, though also far above average, didn’t warrant attention yet.
He had to avoid showing that he could win with one strike; otherwise, if he swept through the competition too easily, making a spectacle of himself, it wouldn’t be appropriate.
Two more minutes of tussling with the Beastman.
Some booing started to rise from the stands. The silver coin for a ticket was quite an expenditure for the average deity-bro; they had come to watch masters at work, but the recent performance seemed unworthy of the hype. Those who had previously praised Kun Lan also felt ashamed to speak up.
The Beastman gradually felt that something was off.
Anyone who’s cut through someone knows that you usually see life or death within the first twenty or thirty seconds; two minutes... this was definitely a fierce battle, and after a prolonged burst of effort, his own actions had begun to slow down.
Yet the man with the bullhorn helmet still seemed comfortable, as if he was just toying with him.
Kun Lan was no longer to be seen, and at the spot where he used to be, there was only a circle of dust swirling at his feet.
Sword from the heavens.
It burst through the skull, piercing the head and entering the torso; Kun Lan stood on the Beastman’s shoulder, and with a kick of his heel, beautifully knocked the Beastman over, retrieved the sword blade midair, and landed on the Beastman.
He then skillfully beheaded him.
Liszt’s gaze sharpened.
That man’s technique was somehow familiar.
At this moment, Isis had also made up her mind and whispered a few words to her traveling servant.
The servant nodded, indicating that he would do as he was told and take the man sitting in the corner outside for a private talk.