Chapter 00236: Arena Duel
# Arena Duel**
Chapter 236
Novel: After the Immortals Disappeared
**Chapter 236: Arena Duel**
At this point, He Lingchuan understood everything—the skinny guy was actually running a betting ring in the southern training grounds!
"This is allowed?"
"Why not?" A'Luo gave a rare smile.
"Gambling draws a crowd."
He Lingchuan thought about it and realized it made sense.
Watching a match without placing bets was like eating noodles without broth—utterly flavorless.
"See that largest training arena over there?" A'Luo pointed south.
"The one with the fence but no walls? That’s open to the public. The duels held there are the grandest, with at least seven or eight hundred spectators placing bets each time, all fired up."
Panlong City valued martial prowess, whether among soldiers or civilians.
After the skinny guy finished distributing the winnings, the crowd around him dispersed.
Spotting He Lingchuan and A'Luo, he hastily straightened his disheveled shirt and walked over with a grin.
"Well, well, look who’s here—the rookie!"
A'Luo took his cue.
"You two have fun. I’ll be in the medical hall."
With that, he headed toward the clinic.
The guy who’d just been knocked out in the arena had a dislocated jaw and needed treatment.
The skinny guy grabbed He Lingchuan.
"Want to make some easy money?"
"How?"
"You’re new. No one knows your strength yet. I’ll find you a few opponents—guaranteed weaker than you. We split the winnings fifty-fifty?"
He Lingchuan chuckled.
"Sounds tempting, but I’m only interested in decent opponents—not too weak, but not strong enough to flatten me either."
He wasn’t here to waste time.
The skinny guy pressed, "Really not interested?"
He Lingchuan gave him a look.
"Fine, fine, I get it. Liu Tiao mentioned you’ve been learning the hook-and-rope technique. How’s that going?"
"Just started. Still clumsy."
He Lingchuan was honest.
"Needs more practice. By the way, how do you manage to do everything?"
"Gotta make ends meet!" The skinny guy laughed.
"You bachelors who only worry about feeding yourselves can’t possibly understand the struggles of a family man. Every morning I wake up to a house full of hungry mouths. Wait here—I’ll find you an opponent."
Clearly familiar with the southern training grounds, he whistled sharply and called out, "Hook! Someone’s challenging you!"
The man who’d just defended his title half an hour ago turned around.
"Who?"
The skinny guy clapped He Lingchuan’s shoulder.
"Got you a fine young fighter here. This guy’s been making waves lately—He—"
He Lingchuan stepped forward, cutting him off.
"Hello. I’m Broken Blade."
Panlong City still buzzed about his heroic solo rescue of an entire army in the Ghost Needle Stone Forest.
While his name, "He Lingchuan," was well-known, few knew his patrol codename was "Broken Blade."
So when the arena champion, Hook, merely crooked a finger at him, he didn’t react to the surname.
"Come on, pick a weapon."
The weapon racks at the arena’s edge had everything—standard, exotic, even a massive wooden spiked club nearly chest-high, its iron spikes replaced with blunt wood.
The skinny guy quickly briefed He Lingchuan.
"Arena rules: only use the weapons provided here. No personal gear, no qi manipulation. The fight stops if your opponent can’t fight back or surrenders. Other than that, anything goes—death isn’t forbidden. Oh, and Hook’s best weapon is his twin tiger-claw hooks, but they’re not on the rack—"
Before he could finish, Hook picked up the wooden axe and large shield he’d used to defeat his last opponent.
Since shields were defensive, this one wasn’t wooden but a standard square iron shield—no spikes or reinforced edges.
After a moment’s thought, He Lingchuan chose a wooden saber.
It was the most common and effective battlefield weapon—and the one he was most skilled with.
Hook strode back to the arena’s center, banging his axe against his shield.
"Bring it!"
He Lingchuan leaped in.
The two exchanged a brief salute, and the duel began.
The crowd instantly swarmed closer.
The skinny guy seized the moment to shout, "Broken Blade versus Hook! Rookie debut, high odds! Place your bets!"
This guy really had money on the brain.
He Lingchuan shook his head—just as Hook flashed before him.
*Fast!*
Despite wielding an axe and shield, bare-chested and heavily muscled, Hook moved with surprising agility.
His left shield swung upward in an "uppercut" aimed at He Lingchuan’s chin—a move that could send a man flying and cost him a few teeth.
The last poor soul had lost his jaw to it.
If He Lingchuan dodged, his upper body would tilt back—right into the path of Hook’s descending axe, aimed at his knees.
In a real fight, that would cripple an enemy’s mobility.
But both strikes met empty air.
As Hook’s shield rose, He Lingchuan grabbed its edge, pushed off lightly with his toes, and vaulted clean over Hook’s head!
Like a leaf caught in the wind, his 140-pound frame soared effortlessly—proof that his relentless training in the "Swallow’s Return" technique was paying off.
The skinny guy and the crowd burst into cheers.
Hook raised his shield defensively, but He Lingchuan flipped backward midair, his wooden saber slicing across the back of Hook’s neck with a sharp *crack!*
By the time Hook’s axe finished its swing, the wooden blade had already left a red welt on his skin.
He Lingchuan landed lightly four feet away.
"Decapitation!" the skinny guy crowed.
"Match over!"
In a real fight, that strike would’ve taken Hook’s head clean off.
Thunderous applause erupted from the spectators.
Hook rubbed his neck and turned, scowling.
"How did you—"
He Lingchuan grinned.
"You won your last fight with that move."
He’d studied Hook’s tactics from the sidelines and prepared a counter.
Trying the same trick twice was just arrogance.
Besides, He Lingchuan had fallen for the "uppercut" once before.
No way he’d let it happen again.
Hook’s face cleared, then darkened with frustration.
"Again!"
"Hold up!" The skinny guy groaned.
"I haven’t even set the odds yet!" The fight had lasted one exchange—no time for bets.
A wasted opportunity.
Broken Blade’s debut could’ve raked in serious coin.
This was a huge loss!
"Wait!" A booming voice cut through the noise as a massive figure shoved through the crowd.
A bald, bear-like mountain of a man, covered in thick hair from head to toe, with a glare that could freeze blood.
People instinctively made way.
He Lingchuan’s breath caught.
He *knew* this guy.
Why did his first visit to the training grounds keep throwing familiar faces at him?
This was Meng Shan.
During He Lingchuan’s second venture into the Panlong dreamscape, he’d fought alongside the Gale Army in a valley ambush, covering the retreat of Weicheng’s refugees.
Meng Shan had been the unstoppable vanguard of the pursuing Balin troops—a hundred-man commander who’d shattered He Lingchuan’s arm in a single clash using the *same* uppercut move Hook had just attempted.
Except when Meng Shan used it, the power was multiplied tenfold.
Now, Meng Shan bared his teeth in a grin.
"Kid. I remember you."
He Lingchuan frowned.
"Your leg healed?"
Back then, Meng Shan had stepped into a giant hidden trap, snapping his leg and ending his rampage.
He’d been captured shortly after.
Meng Shan’s grin turned savage at the memory.
A'Luo reappeared at the arena’s edge.
"After his capture, General Hong personally persuaded Meng Shan to surrender. He’s one of us now."
A pause.
"He’s our comrade."
*General Hong personally recruited him?* Now *that’s prestige.*
Meng Shan jabbed a thumb northward, chest puffed with pride.
"Today, I joined the Gale Army—promoted straight to squad leader. I was just heading to the northern grounds."
Murmurs of envy rippled through the crowd.
"Damn turncoat got into the northern grounds before us!"
"Big deal. He’s just a meathead."
Grumbles aside, no one disputed his qualifications.
Meng Shan’s strength matched his size, and as General Hong’s personally mentored recruit, he outclassed the average Gale soldier.
Plus, he’d been a Balin centurion—a frontline officer and minor boss-level fighter.
Skipping the ranks to squad leader wasn’t surprising.
Talent deserved recognition.
"Keep whining, losers!" Meng Shan flipped them off before turning back to He Lingchuan.
"How about a spar?"
The murderous glint in his eyes left no room for misinterpretation.
He hadn’t forgotten his defeat and wanted payback—starting with He Lingchuan.
Before He Lingchuan could respond, the skinny guy yanked his arm and hissed, "You don’t have to fight! He’s not southern grounds anymore! This bear used to dominate here—brutal, too. A'Luo patched up at least eight of his victims. The lightest injury took weeks to recover!"
The subtext: *He’ll wreck you.*
He Lingchuan felt a flicker of warmth.
For all his greed, the skinny guy still looked out for his comrades.
Then the skinny guy added, "You’ll lose. Not worth betting on."
"…" He Lingchuan shook him off and stepped forward.
"Pick your weapon."
The crowd whooped.
Another fool rushing to his death!
Spectators from other arenas swarmed over, packing the area shoulder-to-shoulder.
Pointing and laughing, they treated it like a festival.
Meng Shan roared with laughter.
"Good! Today, I’ll teach you what it means to be humbled!" He marched to the weapon rack and hefted the largest, heaviest spiked club—a log-sized monstrosity studded with wooden spikes.
Not as deadly as iron, but in Meng Shan’s hands, it could crack skulls like coconuts—one swing, no second chances.
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*This book is first published on Qidian Chinese Web.*
*(End of Chapter)*