Chapter 131: Competition

Fortunately, the school covered all travel expenses, so Bai Lang didn't have to worry about anything—the martial arts club had someone handling all external affairs. Tickets were booked and lodging arranged, but when asked if he wanted an attendant, Bai Lang refused, saying, "I'm not an elementary school student; this special registration crystal card is more than enough!" This trip to Hangzhou was just for a day; if it weren't for the pre‑league inspection, Bai Lang would have planned to go in the morning, finish the match, and come back.

The day before, league officials would inspect both competitors to check for drug use—though they didn't care about the Heavenly Devil Disintegration Grand Method. Indeed, some drugs can boost various abilities, but they cause serious harm to the body; only when one's Internal Force is pure can they eliminate that harm. However, by that point such drugs are essentially meaningless.

Bai Lang leisurely prepared to take the high‑speed rail to Hangzhou, but in fact the school objected to such experts traveling alone—these are essentially lethal weapons, and if they caused trouble the school would struggle to cope; it's better to have a companion who can report their movements. However, martial artists often have quirks, and since Bai Lang said he didn't need anyone tagging along, that's what happened. Anyway, he decided to focus his main effort on the team event.

It's no wonder that personal fame in the individual matches usually comes from being "some sect's some person" or at least "some person"; hardly anyone is noted as "some university's some person". In the university league, many obtain wild‑card spots for the individual matches, and nominal "students" are naturally plentiful.

Once again setting foot on Hangzhou's soil, Bai Lang reckoned that in this life and the last he hadn't been to the city for over forty years combined. He wasn't in a rush to go to the hotel or to report for the league; instead he walked along West Lake, seeking distant memories. Some things from before the crossing he could no longer recall...... Bai Lang walked alone by the lake; at that moment a fine drizzle fell from the sky, and West Lake shrouded in misty rain was extraordinarily beautiful.

Bai Lang's image and West Lake could be described as 'out of place,' and indeed that was true at first. Such a heroic, stalwart fellow, with a beard already starting to grow, looked extremely mighty, which did not match the West Lake veiled in light gauze—what would suit the lake were a youthful scholar and a lovely maiden, not a man of this sort who charges and slashes, victorious in every bout. By now the youthful immaturity of eighteen or nineteen had faded from Bai Lang's face, revealing the half‑decadent figure on the verge of leaving youth behind.

For a while Bai Lang's aura lost its ferocity, becoming as if he blended into the crowd—but how could such a striking man so easily fade into obscurity?...... The men, women, old and young who were strolling in the rain around West Lake spontaneously kept their distance from Bai Lang, unwilling to approach a man who looked quite fierce. The venerable White Junior Protector, now, due to the match of his clothing and demeanor, was being feared......

Ordinary T‑shirt and jeans gave him the air of a wanted criminal; even if he swapped them for official robes, people would still keep their distance. Yet dressed in official robes he would exude the majestic aura of a general who had slain countless foes—worthy of being a trusted confidant of the court.

Bai Lang drifted a little, lost in thought—these years he'd been busy training martial arts just to stay alive, and this somewhat sentimental recollection hadn't visited him in a long time. After walking half a circuit around West Lake and visiting the ruins of Leifeng Pagoda, he finally gathered his feelings and returned to the mindset of the White Junior Protector. 'I ought to go report, then get checked out and have a good night's sleep! Tomorrow I'll finish the match and be done!'

Such drugs cannot take effect instantly; to protect the body they are best taken twelve to twenty‑four hours in advance, at least eight hours beforehand. Drugs that work the moment they are ingested usually leave the user half‑disabled after the effect wears off, possibly completely incapacitated—taking them in a life‑or‑death struggle is pointless, and using them in a match makes no sense. After the league staff collected a urine sample and left, Bai Lang had nothing to do in the hotel; he went online on his phone and then rested.

The next day, as usual, he rose early, absorbed the first ray of sunlight's vital energy, then went straight to the Hangzhou University competition grounds instead of practicing fists—though he could still train there if he wished. Hangzhou University lies beside West Lake; Bai Lang reached the venue with his crystal card and began practicing his fist techniques. This competition ground is not inside the university's martial arts club, but an open‑air platform on the lake's shore. One side of the platform faces the water, and about twenty meters out there is a pavilion extending into the lake—this makes for the best spectator box......

The platform is a square roughly thirty meters on a side, slightly raised about thirty centimeters above the ground. Its surface appears to be tiled with one‑meter square slate slabs—but Bai Lang had inspected it and found it to be concrete disguised as stone. Moreover, when he stomped on it, the force and sound feedback showed it was hollow. 'A platform made of prefabricated reinforced‑concrete panels, though its thickness is probably only ten centimeters, which is still sufficient.'

Bai Lang could shatter rammed earth or brick‑capped city walls with a punch or claw, and penetrate to a depth of half an arm, but against reinforced concrete? Breaking the surface layer or even those ten centimeters might be possible, yet to pierce it like driving into soil? That would be comparatively difficult, very difficult......

Sometimes Bai Lang wondered whether people's physiques differed from world to world, and whether the strength of the materials that make up each world varied as well. That seems quite possible...... Perhaps if he forged a pair of alloy 'divine weapons' here and took them to his own world, they would likewise become divine weapons. Thinking this, he really wanted to give it a try—thanks to the martial artist's privilege, this world's restrictions on controlled weapons and cold arms are not strict, and for registered martial artists they are completely open.

The Wudang martial artist, a third‑year student from Jinling named Ma Cangfeng, had also arrived. He looked refined and cultured, not like a mere 'pretend student' hanging onto the university, and he wore Hanfu prepared in advance—not the wide‑sleeved, loose‑robed kind, but similar to what Bai Lang had seen in martial‑arts TV dramas. In his hand he held a sword, the very picture of a scholar's blade, about three feet three inches long; its guard resembled an ingot, and the hilt bore a handsome tassel.

Bai Lang went to the changing room to put on his Daoist robe, revealing the solid muscles on his arms, and fastened his wrist guards—the officials only check for hidden weapons or poison, not whether there are mechanisms or what material they are made of. However, the robe itself is inspected; wearing stab‑resistant clothing is forbidden, and one must instead wear soft armor or plate armor, though competitors who do so rarely make it to the end.

Ma Cangfeng opposite him underwent the same inspection by the referee, checking his clothing and weapon as well. Since this match permits injury indicators, the inspection only looks for poison on the weapon; whether the blade is sharp or not is irrelevant.

Soon both had finished the checks, and the referee signaled that they could enter. The platform's perimeter was already packed with watching students and members of the public, while those who truly held power, influence, and wealth, together with the school's leadership and official members of the martial arts club, had already taken their seats in the private boxes of the waterside pavilion.