Chapter 43

"Broly-san, I've already asked around. The Western Martial Arts Tournament is an event jointly organized by the Western Merchant Group and the Foreign Merchant Corps."

"It's held once a year, and each time it attracts numerous experts to participate. There are no age restrictions, no gender restrictions; as long as you pay the registration fee of 10,000 Imperial Currency, you can enter."

"The tournament starts with the Sea Selection. Just making it into the Quarterfinals gets you 100,000 prize money immediately. Round of 16 to 8, 8 to 4, 4 to 2, 2 to 1 — the advancement prize money doubles with each match. In other words, if you win the championship, you can get 1.6 million in prize money."

"Besides that, there are Gambling Houses run by merchant groups on the tournament periphery. If we bet our remaining money and win all the way through, we'll definitely make a big profit."

After Nahashu finished speaking, the children in the room cheered. No one doubted Broly's strength; they all believed that as long as their Big Bro participated, he could easily win the championship.

Ever since they disbanded the merchant caravan, their reputation had been spread by the departing caravan members.

Due to the burden of this reputation, gradually no one came knocking to be a Good Person anymore.

And Broly was the type who could eat quite a bit. With people eating like horses, and having sent five people back home (the kind where they had to pay settlement fees), the team's funds had become tight.

Until they headed toward the next target city, passing through the most prosperous capital of the Western Territory, 【Daxi City】. Seeing the Western Martial Arts Tournament promotional posters hanging on walls throughout the city, the 16-person team temporarily settled down here.

"What are we waiting for? Take me to register!"

Broly said happily. He was already itching to go make big money.

Honestly, if it weren't for Fujimura Taiga teaching him in the previous world not to steal or rob, who knows — Broly might have long since become an out-and-out master thief fully integrated into the environment, influenced by the simple and honest folk customs of the Empire's Western Territory. How would he have any money troubles then?

"Big Bro, no rush. There's still one day until the registration deadline. We can go register tomorrow and still make it. Right now I want to go gather some intel on the Gambling Houses, but going alone might be a bit dangerous, so I want to ask you to come with me."

"Got it. We'll look for Good People while we're at it."

Broly liked the Good People who came knocking to rob them. So he and Nahashu hurried out the door. The others didn't follow — with too many people, Good People wouldn't take the bait as easily.

What a pity. After making a round of all the major Gambling Houses and getting a clear picture of the betting rules for the upcoming Western Martial Arts Tournament, not a single person followed them.

Broly sighed. Good People these days seem to be getting smarter and smarter. Today's expenses would have to come out of their own team's deflated wallet again.

"It's okay. Although our money isn't much left, as long as Big Bro participates, I believe you'll definitely fill our wallet up!"

Back at the inn, while eating in the inn's dining hall, Pony comforted him from the side.

Broly nodded, converting today's frustration from not encountering Good People into appetite, and quickly wolfed down the large plate of roasted meat in front of him.

"Hahaha, a bunch of kids not even as tall as my leg, boasting without drafting a script. You think the Western Martial Arts Tournament is a place for you brats to play house?"

Hearing this, one of the nearby diners burst out laughing directly. This man was tall and burly, stout and rugged, with layers of bandages wrapped around his hands — dressed like a Martial Artist. Obviously he was also here for the Western Martial Arts Tournament.

"Eh, isn't it a competition where anyone who pays the registration fee can participate?"

At this moment, Nahashu, acting as the team's liaison, took the initiative to ask.

"Hah, those guys who just pay the registration fee are only one-round cannon fodder there to experience the tournament atmosphere. Real participants should be powerful warriors like me. We only need to rely on strength to obtain participation qualifications from the organizers."

The big man spoke while flexing his arms that were thick enough to run horses on, displaying the knotted muscles on his arms for the group of kids to see.

"Eh, this guy looks kinda familiar."

"I think he looks familiar too. Wait, if you ignore the beard, isn't he Samba-san?"

"So it's him. Five years ago, his first time participating, he made the Eight Strong. Three years ago, he nearly won the championship. But this guy hasn't participated for two years. How come he's competing again?"

Hearing the commotion here, the surrounding people started discussing upon seeing the full-bearded big man.

And Samba-san, listening to the surrounding discussions, revealed a proud expression.

As a Martial Artist, others discussing how strong he was gave his vanity immense satisfaction.

However, there were also people complaining about the matter of him making the other party lose money back then.

Samba-san's expression turned somewhat serious. He suddenly stood up.

"What do you want to do?"

The complainer jumped in fright at his movement, thinking this bad-tempered guy was going to beat them up.

"Sorry about that. Back then, it was my lack of strength."

Unexpectedly, Samba-san took the initiative to apologize. But then he immediately addressed the people in the restaurant loudly.

"However, these past two years I've been in the Gifnora Sea Tree Forest bitterly cultivating. It was my friend, the Manager of Degas Chamber of Commerce, who sought me out and requested I come out of retirement to represent their merchant caravan in battle."

"Degas Chamber of Commerce sells the best Dust-proof Cloaks in the Empire's Western Region. This year I will wear their caravan's latest model cloak and stand on the Martial Arts Tournament champion's stage."

"Everyone, if you want to make money, then please support me, Samba-san, support Degas Chamber of Commerce. Bet on my, Samba-san's, victory!"

"So it was Degas Chamber of Commerce who invited him. No wonder this person would come out of retirement to compete." "Tsk, Gifnora Sea Tree Forest — that's a dangerous place crawling with Danger Beasts. For Samba-san to bitterly cultivate in that kind of place for two years, wouldn't his strength be countless times greater than before?"

"Good. This year's Martial Arts Tournament has something to watch. Not only is last year's rookie champion participating, but also a powerful veteran who's made the Eight Strong multiple times in the past..."

"Samba-san, we believe in you. This time you must not let us down!"

"Hahaha, no problem. Leave it all to me, Samba-san!"

The burly man thumped his chest with a bang-bang sound, making the ears of those nearby ring a bit. And after making a championship declaration advertisement for his sponsor in the lively large dining hall, Samba-san sat back down.

He glanced at the table of kids next to him and grinned: "You brats, if you want to earn some pocket money, you'd better remember to bet on me, Lord Samba-san, to win."

"If you lose, will you cover our losses?"

Black Pupils asked curiously.

"Cough cough, that's naturally profits and losses borne by yourselves. But do you really think I, Samba-san, would lose?"

The group of kids pursed their lips. They didn't know how strong this person was, but they were clear on how strong their own Big Bro was.

"Digimon Adult, can I ask — how does directly obtaining participation qualifications from the organizers work?"

However, Nahashu was still very polite, inquiring about some things from this burly man with multiple tournament experiences.

Actually, the Martial Arts Tournament is the business of participating Martial Artists, and also the business of the various major merchant groups organizing it. They sponsor the tournament to attract public attention, and privately invite some participants to represent their own merchant guild in the matches.

As long as the selected participant makes the Quarterfinals and can step onto the Main Stage, that brings a huge wave of fame boost to their own merchant guild, proving their guild's strength is just as hard as the participating players on the stage.

Thus, players like Samba-san who are invited to be Substitute Fighters appear. They not only don't have to pay registration fees, but can also get paid to compete.

Of course, ordinary participants can't catch the eye of those merchant guilds. It has to be people possessing powerful strength.

Moreover, this kind of strength cannot be reflected in weapons, because the Western Martial Arts Tournament does not allow participants to use weapons.

Even protective gear is limited to Boxing Gloves and Bandages. This is a contest between pure flesh and blood and unarmed combat techniques among all participants.

Nahashu noted down this information, and the next day went to inquire whether any merchant guilds were willing to sponsor participants to compete.

But after running around for half a day, any merchant guild with interest, upon hearing that the participant was a newcomer and still a child, all told them to let their children go play with mud.

"Damn it, they're all a bunch of bastards who can't recognize a real big brother."

The few children who followed the connections also cursed and swore.

"Maybe we should let Broly-san show them a thing or two."

Main suggested.

"Forget it, it's just a registration qualification; that bit of money isn't even enough for our meals for a day, and as for the sponsorship fee for newcomer participants, those merchant guilds' quotations are about as good as nothing—we don't lack this bit of money."

The merchant guilds Nahashu and the others could contact were all small merchant guilds; the big merchant guilds had no connections at all, and small merchant guilds in the fiercely competitive Martial Arts Tournament didn't expect their sponsored fighters to make it to the Quarterfinals at all, only hoping to get some exposure on the Small Stage in the later stages of the Sea Selection, so they couldn't offer any price.

It was just a few melons and dates, probably at most enough for their big brother's meals for a day; to let their big brother show them a thing or two for a day's meal money? Even if Broly-san himself didn't care, Nahashu felt somewhat insulted—at least it would take several more days.

"Hey, are you really that confident in your big brother?"

Just as Nahashu was preparing to register Broly, a white-bearded old man in a suit blocked them.

"Of course, our big brother is more powerful than anyone, uh, old man, who are you?"

"I am the Manager of the Western Territory branch of the Jitu Chamber of Commerce; you can call me President Nosen. Coincidentally, our chamber of commerce here is lacking a fighter to compete; do you want to accept our chamber of commerce's sponsorship?"

"Our big brother is very powerful, but his price isn't cheap; if you only plan to give a bit of money, then forget it."

Nahashu reminded him in one sentence.

"Haha, confidence is a good thing. How about this: as long as your big brother makes the cut, our chamber of commerce here will give money corresponding to the competition prize money."

"Quarterfinals: one hundred thousand; Eight Strong: two hundred thousand; if your big brother can win the championship, the remuneration will be one million six hundred thousand. How about it?"

Hearing this, Nahashu's eyes lit up; this quotation wasn't low at all.

"Fine, but we have to sign a contract."

"You're really rigorous."

Nosen smiled, did not refuse, and agreed.

(Chapter End)