Chapter 82: Foolish Beyond Belief (Requesting Subscriptions)

Lin Chen emerged victorious, and the others in Group Bing regarded him with wariness—two excepted.

One was Zhou Yu, the other was Lü Shuyu.

Even after Lin Chen defeated Tu Le, Zhou Yu still possessed absolute confidence; his own cultivation technique was equally mastered.

Lü Shuyu was exhilarated—Lin Chen had defeated Tu Le, so now he had the chance to defeat Lin Chen himself.

As for his opponent, the five-portal student from Zhenyue Martial Hall, he paid him no mind.

In his view, if Lin Chen could defeat Tu Le of Tiexue Martial Hall, then he could defeat Peng Bo of Zhenyue Martial Hall just as easily.

“You not being eliminated pleases me—now I have the chance to defeat you myself.”

Before stepping onto the arena, Lü Shuyu whispered to Lin Chen, who glanced at him, speechless.

This guy is truly insane.

So eager to fight me, just to prove to Qingfeng Martial Hall that he’s a loyal disciple?

…

…

Fourth match!

Lü Shuyu versus Peng Bo of Zhenyue Martial Hall.

“Brother Peng, please.”

Since he wanted to prove to Instructor Chen that he was no worse than Lin Chen, Lü Shuyu naturally had to match—or even surpass—Lin Chen’s ease of victory.

Seeing Lü Shuyu address himself as senior brother, Fu Ang’s eyes gleamed as he muttered, “Such confidence—this must be him. Brother Peng is likely to lose.”

Though the voice differed slightly, what if the person had deliberately altered it during the Martial Garden?

“Brother Fu, do you think Lü Shuyu of Qingfeng Martial Hall will win this match?”

A Zhenyue Martial Hall student beside him, hearing Fu Ang’s words, was puzzled—why would Brother Fu boost the enemy’s morale and diminish their own?

“Fu Ang, are you suspecting this man is the one you mentioned—the Qingfeng Martial Hall student who mastered the Qingfeng Palm?” asked Hong Qianhai, Zhenyue’s vice-director, in a low voice.

“Yes, I think… no, Brother Peng shouldn’t have acted so recklessly…”

Fu Ang was about to reply, but when he saw Peng Bo launch an all-out attack, he gasped, “Trouble!”

Yet before he could finish, the scene on the arena triggered a chorus of gasps.

A figure flew through the air like a severed kite, crashing heavily several zhang away.

Whoa!

A wave of stunned exclamations erupted.

“What happened to Lü Shuyu? He looked so confident—I thought he was like Lin Chen just now, certain of his strength—but this?”

“Pathetic. Pretending to be a senior brother, knowing Zhenyue’s Iron Bones Art grants incredible defense, yet he dared to brawl head-on—what did he think he could fight with?”

“If he’d avoided Peng Bo’s charge, with his mastered Qingfeng Palm and one portal higher than Peng Bo, he could’ve seized an opening and won.”

…

…

The arena students didn’t understand Lü Shuyu’s tactics.

Why choose to meet Iron Bones Art head-on with Qingfeng Palm? True, his successive palm strikes made Peng Bo grimace in pain—but they didn’t halt Peng Bo’s advance. In the end, Peng Bo gritted his teeth and charged, sending him flying.

At Qingfeng Martial Hall’s side, all students fell silent; Qi He’s face was dark as storm clouds.

Six portals opened, Qingfeng Palm mastered—and yet he lost to Peng Bo, who had only five portals and hadn’t even mastered Iron Bones Art. It was a disgrace.

Had there been no spectators from other martial halls, he would’ve already been screaming curses.

Using one’s weakness to attack the enemy’s strength.

Foolish. Utterly absurd.

Lü Shuyu lost. Lin Chen’s expression didn’t change—he’d never taken this clown seriously.

“Senior Brother Lü, shall you continue?”

Peng Bo looked down at Lü Shuyu on the ground. That “senior brother” was a dagger to the soul.

Lü Shuyu wanted to continue—but facing Peng Bo’s massive frame, if he uttered even one word of “continue,” Peng Bo would crush him like a mountain descending.

“I… I lost.”

Lü Shuyu spoke with difficulty. Peng Bo smiled, made no move to help him up, and turned away without a word. From the start of the match, Lü Shuyu had acted as if victory was assured—clearly he’d looked down on him. Now that he’d been defeated, he deserved it.

Rising from the ground, Lü Shuyu’s face was pale, his mind filled with confusion—he couldn’t understand why Lin Chen had defeated Tu Le so easily, while he himself lost to Peng Bo.

Lü Shuyu cast one final glance at Lin Chen. When he saw the faint smile on Lin Chen’s lips, it felt like a blade to his eyes.

Lin Chen was definitely mocking him.

“I lost—but that doesn’t mean you won. You’ll lose too when you face Peng Bo,” Lü Shuyu glared fiercely at Lin Chen.

Lin Chen’s eyes narrowed. After a long pause, he spat two words: “Fool!”

“What did you say?!”

Lü Shuyu turned livid, lunging toward Lin Chen—but the referee’s cold voice cut in: “Loser, leave the arena.”

Under the referee’s icy gaze, Lü Shuyu snapped back to his senses—this was the Wuzhengsuo. Break the rules here, and even his martial hall couldn’t save him.

Returning to Qingfeng Martial Hall’s area, Lü Shuyu kept his head down. As he turned, he saw Director Qi’s grim face.

Chen Chunfeng’s gaze toward Lü Shuyu was filled with disappointment. Zhao Senior Brother had privately revealed to Lü Shuyu the truth behind the Class-A quota allocation—he knew.

Zhao Senior Brother’s purpose was clearly to make Lü Shuyu feel indebted to him.

He also knew Lü Shuyu harbored resentment, seething with determination to defeat Lin Chen and prove he deserved the Class-A slot more.

He didn’t expose Lü Shuyu’s thoughts.

Having a rival and someone to defeat was a driving force for a cultivator’s progress on the martial path.

He hoped Lü Shuyu would use this fire to climb higher on the path.

But only if he understood his own limits.

…

…

Lü Shuyu’s defeat, though met with gasps, faded within moments.

The crowd gasped because Lü Shuyu had lost his mind, using weakness against strength—but he wasn’t a popular student. After the surprise, it was forgotten.

Soon, after the fourth match ended, the four winners of Group Bing drew lots again—and this time, Lin Chen drew Peng Bo.

Seeing his opponent was Peng Bo, Lin Chen glanced toward Qingfeng Martial Hall, a wry expression flickering across his face.

In the first match of Round Two, Zhou Yu won effortlessly again; his opponent, knowing he couldn’t win, endured a few moves before surrendering, conserving strength for the Top Fifty ranking matches.

In the second match of Round Two, Lin Chen faced Peng Bo.

At Qingfeng Martial Hall, Lü Shuyu, who had been bowing his head, lifted it again—if Lin Chen also lost to Peng Bo, then he hadn’t truly failed.

“Brother Fu, who do you think will win this match?”

A Zhenyue Martial Hall student asked again. Fu Ang shook his head: “It’s meaningless. Whoever wins won’t be Zhou Yu’s match.”

Fu Ang paid no attention to this fight. His only curiosity in this group was whether Lü Shuyu was the one he’d mentioned.

Now the answer was clear: Lü Shuyu wasn’t him. The ultimate winner of Group Bing would be Zhou Yu.

Whether Lin Chen or Brother Peng won, neither would stand against Zhou Yu.

(End of Chapter)