Chapter 00296: Arena Number Seven
# Arena Number Seven
Chapter 296
Novel: After the Immortals Disappeared
Chapter 296: Arena Number Seven
He Lingchuan didn’t answer.
Instead, he instructed the old woman who had just brought in the hot water, “Go prepare a hot dish and some warm rice for her. Tell her it’s from Young Master He.” After saying that, he nodded to A Jin and got up to leave.
Once he left, the soldiers on duty rushed to He Chunhua’s tent to report the conversation between the two.
He Chunhua smiled after hearing it. “That kid isn’t acting foolish again, is he?”
*****
For the next three days, the rain poured continuously.
At night, He Lingchuan tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.
Eventually, he just got up and told his personal guard to set up a bigger, more spacious tent for him.
The size was almost on par with that of a provincial governor.
Inside the tent, he practiced with his blade.
The sword intent of “Fusheng” was excessively sharp and fierce.
Not wanting to sleep in a dripping tent during heavy rain, He Lingchuan carved out a simple wooden sword for himself.
Every day, except when eating, he used it to practice the “Wave Slash” technique.
Because of the limited space, he didn’t combine his sword technique with footwork, practicing one move after another repeatedly.
Whenever soldiers passed by his tent, they would see Young Master He using the most basic stances to launch the simplest blade techniques.
But for He Lingchuan, ever since he had leapt into the river to face the surging waves, he had experienced a sudden, enlightening breakthrough regarding this blade technique.
The things he once couldn’t figure out now made perfect sense.
He finally knew exactly how to strike with his blade.
His body had begun to memorize this “feeling.”
If the Han River wasn’t already turbulent and unlivable for humans, he would have gladly jumped in again to practice over and over.
The rain kept falling incessantly, masking the faint sound of wind and thunder coming off the wooden sword.
The sounds would sometimes grow loud, then disappear altogether.
One day, when Dan Youjun passed by, he saw He Lingchuan strike a seemingly ordinary slash at the ground.
Only after the blade was sheathed did a distinct sword mark suddenly appear on the earth.
Dan Youjun noticed that the tip of the wooden sword hadn’t touched the ground, yet the cut was neat and penetrated about an inch deep.
Several hours later, when Dan Youjun came again, the rain had lessened.
Young Master He was standing at the tent entrance, yawning.
Upon seeing him, he asked, “Do you know under what circumstances drawing your blade can slice through water?”
Dan Youjun responded eagerly, “Please instruct me, Master.”
“It’s right now,” He Lingchuan said suddenly, drawing his sword.
Seven raindrops falling from the sky, whether just above the ground or about to land on Dan Youjun’s forehead, suddenly split in two—turning into fourteen droplets.
Each drop was cleanly cut right down the middle.
Dan Youjun felt a cool sensation twice strike his forehead.
Looking back at the wooden blade’s tip, it was dry and clean, without a speck of water clinging to it.
He struck with sheer sword force.
“Master, that’s very dangerous!” Dan Youjun said nervously as the sword was drawn.
He felt a tingling numbness on his forehead, a chill piercing the back of his head.
He fully understood that if that slash had truly aimed to take his life, he most likely would have collapsed.
“That was exhilarating!” He Lingchuan licked his lips and let out a long howl, his entire body feeling clear and unblocked.
This breakthrough in the path of swordsmanship was solidified this time.
He tossed the wooden sword aside, shook his neck, and heard a series of cracking sounds.
Only then did he realize he hadn’t closed his eyes for two full days and nights.
The exhaustion in his body and mind poured over him, threatening to knock him out.
“I need to sleep,” he told Dan Youjun. “Don’t bother me unless it’s important.”
After saying that, he walked over to his bed and collapsed, falling asleep immediately.
*****
Why is it so noisy in the dream?
He Lingchuan rubbed his eyes and found himself seemingly standing inside the military camp, surrounded by burly men.
Shouts, applause, and jeers filled the air.
He looked around.
Hmm? The Military Training Hall?
Why was he standing beside the biggest martial arena in Panlong City right as he entered his dream?
He turned his head to see Sun Fuling standing next to him, looking up at the arena.
Before he could speak, a hand clapped his back.
The thin man’s voice was almost drowned out by the surrounding noise: “Duandao, are you placing a bet or not?”
“What bet?” He Lingchuan asked, then turned back and was surprised to see Hu Min standing next to the thin man.
“Oh, you’re here too?”
“Just here for some fun, trying to see if there’s a dark horse to explode,” Hu Min said, pointing to the skinny man. “I just placed a bet with him.”
“Which arena?”
“Which one else?” The thin man pointed south. “Arena Number Seven: Wild Boar versus Meng Shan!”
He Lingchuan was startled and looked over.
Sure enough, on the platform stood two big, strong men, one of whom was the familiar figure of Meng Shan.
In previous dreams, Meng Shan had beaten him mercilessly.
This time, Meng Shan’s opponent was also a muscle-bound giant, over eight feet tall, with a face full of scars.
In size and ferocity, the two were evenly matched.
Arena Seven was located at the southern end of the Military Training Hall, half extending over the city’s main street.
Civilians in Panlong City only needed to stand in the street to watch the fight.
Because of this, the fights held there were highly entertaining and attracted the most spectators.
Right now, the city center was packed with spectators, men and women craning their necks to watch, even standing atop the iron railing at the arena edge.
The citizens, bored with their daily mundane lives, craved a fierce battle and a flood of flying blood to spice things up.
He Lingchuan asked the skinny man, “Who has the better odds?”
“Of course the Wild Boar,” the skinny man said, pointing to the big man on the platform.
The man had a slick face, big ears, and a cleft chin—his nickname wasn’t given lightly. “Meng Shan is the undefeated general of the Southern Division of the Military Hall. Even after moving to the Northern Division, he’s only lost once.”
“Then why place bets at all?” He Lingchuan asked disappointedly. “Everyone would bet on Meng Shan to win.”
“Not necessarily. I bet on the Wild Boar.” Hu Min chuckled. “This guy looks pretty promising. Plus, if he wins, it’s a big payout for a small bet.”
Sun Fuling nearby laughed too, “I also bet on the Wild Boar.”
“Are you a schoolteacher — a tireless gardener...” He Lingchuan joked. “Is it proper for you to be gambling so openly?”
Sun Fuling frowned lightly. “Gardener? What gardener? I’m not weeding!”
He Lingchuan smiled and told the skinny man, “Alright, I’ll put half a tael of silver on the Wild Boar to win.”
“Tch!” The skinny man spat on him. “So stingy.”
Behind him was a huge leather sack filled with loose coins.
Apparently, the betting crowd was unusually large today; even civilians offsite had joined in.
Then the rapid beating of drums sounded.
This was the war-preparation drum.
When the drums stopped, the two strong men clashed like bulls.
Two bystanders standing on the fence were shaken off by the shockwaves, and the onlookers cheered wildly.
Meng Shan’s usual opponents relied on fighting with hit-and-run tactics, but the Wild Boar came out swinging hard, meeting him head-on blow for blow.
The crowd loved it, clapping thunderously with each solid punch.
After only a few rounds, He Lingchuan observed the Wild Boar’s specialty: wrestling throws.
Twice he grabbed Meng Shan and slammed him to the ground.
Even Meng Shan, tough as he was, had difficulty and had to catch his breath several times before getting back on his feet.
The Wild Boar’s nickname was somewhat misleading.
He overheard someone nearby sneer, “Shouldn’t a pig charge by ramming? He should be called Wild Bear instead.”
That was probably someone who had bet on Meng Shan.
But after two such losses, Meng Shan was getting wiser.
Whenever caught, he would lock the opponent’s joints tightly, preventing the Wild Boar from using his signature moves.
Hu Min shouted, cupping his hands like a megaphone, “Counter lock, counter lock! Ah, too slow again!”
Amid the roar of over a thousand spectators, He Lingchuan heard Sun Fuling sigh, “It’s over, the Wild Boar is going to lose.”
Sure enough, once Meng Shan trapped the Wild Boar, he knocked him fiercely on the forehead with a headbutt.
The dull, heavy thud made He Lingchuan’s back teeth ache.
Apparently, Meng Shan’s head was harder.
The Wild Boar was dazed and loosened his grip.
Meng Shan steadied himself, stomped on the Wild Boar’s foot, then threw a precise punch between his chest and diaphragm!
The Wild Boar instantly struggled for breath.
In moments, he had suffered three heavy blows.
Although he recovered and fought back fiercely, the outcome was already clear.
After another lengthy struggle, the Wild Boar finally fell, his entire head swollen—and his nickname very fitting.
Several Military Hall guards climbed onto the platform to carry the Wild Boar off for medical treatment.
Meng Shan wiped blood from his nose, patted his chest, and roared to the crowd:
“Who’s next?”
His shout was so loud that even the enthusiastic applause couldn’t drown it out.
“I only put in half a tael of silver,” He Lingchuan said, glad he hadn’t bet more and was only doing it for fun.
He asked Sun Fuling, “How much did you lose?”
Sun Fuling sighed deeply. “Three taels.”
“Wow, that’s a big bet!” Three taels could buy ten or so meals at the Frost River Tavern, enough for He Lingchuan and Hu Min to drink for quite a while.
“Taking a gamble, turning rags into silk,” Sun Fuling’s voice was gloomy. “I saw the odds and thought, if the Wild Boar wins, I won’t have to worry about food for the rest of the year.”
He Lingchuan suddenly looked at her with new respect.
He always thought Sun Fuling was calm and detached from worldly desires; he never imagined his neighbor who seemed so otherworldly harbored such a gambling streak.
It seemed a bit like her older brother, Sun Jiayuan.
She added: “Just this once—I lost two years’ worth of firewood money.” Burning wood and charcoal for two years wouldn’t even cost that much.
Hu Min watched others redeeming their winnings from the skinny man and stomped in frustration, “I lost, I lost. I should have gone with the crowd.”
He Lingchuan looked at Meng Shan standing proudly on the platform and asked in confusion, “There are plenty of skilled fighters in the Military Hall’s Northern Division. Why don’t they challenge him and humble his pride?”
“Meng Shan only recently went to the Northern Division, and he’s a strong newcomer,” the skinny man said. “Ordinary soldiers of the Great Wind Army can’t beat him. If the captains were to challenge him, winning wouldn’t bring glory, and losing would be shameful.”
Honestly, Meng Shan’s reputation in Yanliang Valley was well-known.
During the two-army clashes, many Great Wind Army soldiers had fought him and knew full well they stood no chance against this human rhinoceros of flesh and blood.
Besides, the Military Hall’s rules generally favored these power-type fighters.
Hu Min chuckled, “As for Commander Xiao and the others—they can’t fight on Arena Seven against soldiers.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s unfair. Not to mention commanders have finer combat skills, armies fighting their own superiors in public would be under immense pressure,” Hu Min shrugged. “If you told me to fight Boss Xiao on Arena Seven, I’d be scared too.”
Soldiers always obeyed their commanders’ orders, and the commanders’ authority ran deep in their hearts.
Once on a public arena, this psychological pressure turned into an advantage and often affected performance.
Still, some couldn’t resist the excitement, jumping onto the platform to challenge Meng Shan.
(End of chapter)