Chapter 00297: Astonishing Odds
# Astonishing Odds
Chapter 297
Novel: After the Immortals Disappeared
Chapter 297: Astonishing Odds
The crowd’s excitement surged once again.
The skinny man grew even busier, but still managed to ask Sun Fuling, "Are you placing a bet?"
He Lingchuan quickly signaled to him with his eyes, but it was too late.
To everyone’s surprise, Sun Fuling took out another tael of silver and said, "I’m betting!"
She still chose to bet on the higher odds.
"Girl, seriously, this guy looks even less reliable than a wild boar!" He Lingchuan grabbed her wrist firmly, "Are you sure you want to bet again? Maybe you should reconsider?"
"I know," Sun Fuling blinked, "That’s why I’m only betting one tael this time."
"……"
She smiled with eyes curved gently, "A little gambling for fun, it won’t hurt."
Half an hour later.
Sun Fuling tugged at He Lingchuan’s arm, looking dejected.
"My money..." had gone down the drain.
He Lingchuan chuckled, "One tael of silver? You could’ve bought hundreds of steamed buns with that."
Barely had he finished speaking when he felt Sun Fuling’s grip tighten—from a tug to a pinch.
A wise person wouldn’t say, “I told you so” at a moment like this.
Instead, it’s better to say, “Well, Meng Shan’s time will come sooner or later.”
"Better now than later, better today than tomorrow," a voice suddenly chimed in.
He Lingchuan turned to see it was none other than Xiao Maoliang!
Hu Min laughed, "Boss, you’re only just here?"
"The meeting ran late; almost missed the show," Xiao Maoliang said, eyes fixed on the No. 7 arena.
"Is Meng Shan defending the stand today?"
"Yeah, this guy’s already taken down four challengers," Hu Min shook his head.
"I think the No. 7 arena’s event is going to end early today."
The No. 7 arena was open to the public; common folk could watch the entire fight.
Known as a popular form of entertainment, it was held once a week but sometimes more, depending on the situation.
There weren’t many fun activities in the city, and Xiao Maoliang didn’t want to miss out on this.
If no one challenged Meng Shan for more than half an hour, then even if Meng Shan successfully defended the stand, today’s No. 7 arena event would end.
The skinny man came over, bowing and nodding respectfully at Xiao Maoliang.
Although he was still a patrol soldier, he treated a general of the Dawind Army with utmost respect.
But he felt sorry too, "If only two more people had come up, we’d have made enough to call it a day."
Today, they still hadn’t earned enough.
Xiao Maoliang smiled at He Lingchuan.
He was usually serious and unsmiling, so He Lingchuan felt a sudden tightness in his chest.
Why was the commander smiling at him?
"Duandao, do you want to go up?"
"Me?" He Lingchuan pointed at his nose, "Right now?"
"You’ve challenged Meng Shan six or seven times already. You’re also the one he least wants to face."
Hearing Xiao Maoliang say this, He Lingchuan scratched his nose.
Actually, the commander probably meant he was like an indestructible cockroach.
"I’ve seen your fights a couple of times. You’re not without a chance," Xiao Maoliang gestured at the arena.
"It’s a rare opportunity today. Want to give it a try?"
Two Dawind Army soldiers behind him, who had also fought in the River Valley battle, recognized He Lingchuan and had clashed with Meng Shan before.
They quickly chimed in, "Yeah, yeah! Duandao, go up and cheer for us!"
"Let this fatso know there’s always someone stronger!"
The skinny man’s eyes lit up, nodding vigorously like he was grinding rice, "Alright, alright! Duandao, your odds are high this time—I’m definitely betting on you! If you win, we’ll be counting money for sure!"
He Lingchuan gave him a white-eyed glare.
Was this what he called teammates?
Back when he fought Meng Shan at the Southern Yard's stand, losing didn’t feel shameful.
After all, the crowd were all practitioners themselves; but here, under this stage, everything was common folk.
Xiao Maoliang patted He Lingchuan’s shoulder.
"You train for a thousand days for what? You gotta have this one shot."
Sun Fuling had been quietly watching, then suddenly spoke, "If you go up to fight, I’ll bet my entire year’s salary on you."
Her apricot eyes shone brightly with life.
Looking into her eyes, He Lingchuan suddenly felt less hesitant.
Maybe Xiao Maoliang’s words had truly struck a chord with him.
He looked at Sun Fuling and said, "I have a condition. If you agree, I’ll go up and fight."
Without hesitating, Sun Fuling replied, "You say it!"
He Lingchuan exhaled and lowered his voice near her ear, "Win or lose, you have to give me a kiss."
The crowd was noisy all around; no one was able to overhear this.
Sun Fuling’s gaze sharpened.
But after he said this, He Lingchuan suddenly felt awkward.
He didn’t know why it just slipped out so naturally; now he’d hit a wall.
"Forget it, forget it," he waved his hand dismissively.
"Consider it me talking nonsense. That condition doesn’t count. I’m going up."
Unexpectedly, Sun Fuling thrust out a fist at him, "Fine. I agree. But you have to win!"
He Lingchuan was overjoyed, extending his fist to lightly bump hers.
"It’s a deal."
At that side, Meng Shan had already walked to the corner of the arena and yawned widely.
A quarter of an hour passed with no challengers coming up; another quarter would mean Meng Shan’s successful defense.
How dull, how unbearably dull!
While he was bored out of his mind, someone suddenly jumped up onto the platform.
Applause exploded from the crowd, cheering on the fearless challenger.
Everyone Meng Shan had beaten was badly injured, near death.
For someone to still dare step up now, just the courage alone deserved applause.
Meng Shan sneered coldly to himself.
Alright then, let grandpa see which poor fool has the guts to come up and offer themselves as a sacrifice... huh?
Eh?
Why is it...
Meng Shan’s face darkened, as the newcomer greeted him familiarly, "Yo, Meng Shan, it’s been half a month since we last met!"
Duandao!
"You're still coming to die here?" This guy had tangled with him seven or eight times before, right? Meng Shan knew deep down he was becoming harder and harder to deal with.
Last time he was defeated by Duandao, Meng Shan himself was injured and went straight home to recuperate for quite some time.
In the huge Panlong City, besides the Red General, the one person Meng Shan least wanted to see was this persistent, sticky guy.
"I placed my bet; I have to win my money back," He Lingchuan held out his hand to Meng Shan, "Please."
Even though he was prepared, standing on the No. 7 arena, facing tens of thousands of fervent spectators, the enthusiasm turned into an overwhelming pressure!
Being the focus of thousands of eyes, thousands of fingers pointing, thousands of angry voices—all this combined into a tangible pressure field.
He had read in books before, about a handsome young man who stepped out and was surrounded by viewers.
One time, so many people watched, they literally stared him to death.
Hmm... what was that frail boy’s name? Doesn’t matter.
He Lingchuan had always laughed such stories off—until now, when he couldn’t.
Losing on the No. 7 arena would be a disgrace in front of the entire city, and it might even become the gossip and jokes over tea among elderly aunts and uncles for the next half month.
The pressure was immense.
He quietly drew a deep breath.
He’d been through countless times at the brink of life and death; was he really afraid of this noisy crowd? Xiao Maoliang was right, sooner or later this moment had to come.
Meng Shan snorted and went to the weapon rack, picking up a four-foot-long wolf-tooth club studded with wooden pegs and a round hand shield.
Those familiar with his fighting style gasped slightly.
Meng Shan wasn’t opting for his usual heavy weapon?
Xiao Maoliang found it odd, "This guy’s pretty smart."
Not matching his bulky exterior, at least.
The skinny man smiled, "He suffered losses under Duandao and decided not to rely just on brute force."
He Lingchuan also approached the weapons rack, took down a wooden sword, weighed it, and inspected it carefully.
Not bad, decent weight, no cracks.
Even on the No. 7 arena, weapon quality was as lousy as always.
Luckily, this wooden sword was okay; otherwise, he feared it would shatter after two strikes.
Both of them wore light leather armor, but a wooden sword against Meng Shan’s massive frame and strength wouldn’t break through defenses unless clever moves were used—it might even splinter into shards.
They had fought six or seven bouts before, knowing each other inside out.
No need to feel out moves now.
Meng Shan charged forward with giant strides, swinging his club.
Followed by a ground-shaking stomp.
No one dared to take his attack head-on; most would leap or dart backward.
Meng Shan’s stomp was designed to throw foes off balance.
The moment He Lingchuan showed the slightest opening, the shield would slam down on him.
Though this shield was lighter than a mountain shield, it still packed a solid smash.
But He Lingchuan was familiar with Meng Shan’s tactics and refused to fall into that trap.
When the wolf-tooth club swung down, he didn’t retreat but moved in fast, suddenly accelerating, crashing into Meng Shan’s embrace with both himself and the wooden sword!
This nimble, brisk move was called “Young Swallow Tossing into the Forest” in the Yan circle style.
Onlookers only saw a blur flash by as the wooden sword’s tip stabbed directly into Meng Shan’s belly!
This was a bold gamble; had He Lingchuan been a fraction of a second slower, Meng Shan’s club would have smashed his forehead.
Xiao Maoliang in the crowd let out a surprised “Eh!?”
Having fought Meng Shan face to face in the Yan River Valley, he knew well that once Meng Shan got moving, a strong aural field surrounded him, capable of pulling or slowing opponents’ movement—a secret weapon for handling agile foes.
Most nimble and flexible opponents were slender and small; Meng Shan often skewed their attacks off course, greatly weakening their strikes and warping their footwork.
That’s when Meng Shan would make them feel what it meant to be crushed like a mountain.
However, He Lingchuan knew this well—lessons learned at the cost of blood.
Even the strongest aura has fluctuations, though.
Today, practicing swordplay by the waves, he sensed the water’s unpredictable yet shaped flow.
Now, he keenly felt the jagged patches of Meng Shan’s aura—there was always a clear gap to exploit.
He slipped in from the edge.
His strike was precise, aimed directly at his opponent’s diaphragm, looking to make Meng Shan suffer like the wild boar had before.
Meng Shan was loudly exhaling and roaring, his stomach puffing out.
The wooden sword’s tip pushed him back, causing him much discomfort, but his sturdy stance was unwavering—not a step back.
Still, He Lingchuan didn’t quite succeed.
Meng Shan’s belly was like a balloon—whether it was true energy or fat, it was elastic and tough, making it hard for the wooden sword to make an impact.
At that moment, he dearly missed the Floating Life Blade.
Meng Shan’s flesh would never withstand that sharp edge.
Too bad this was a dream arena; not even his Ghost Shadow Cicada Claw could be used here—
Too precious!
Almost no one noticed, but the sword’s tip released over a foot of aura energy.
Meng Shan countered with a grab.
His strength exceeded that of the wild boar.
If He Lingchuan was caught in his grip, even the Huang (a famous medical herb) could be squeezed out of him.
This was a man who once crushed another’s spine alive with sheer force.
(End of Chapter)