Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 67

The arena match was in full swing. As the sky took on a rosy hue with the setting sun, only one towering and burly man remained on the stage. He had defeated two or three opponents, his shirt torn and his appearance somewhat ragged, yet his fierceness remained undiminished. After kicking his opponent off the stage, he raised his arm high, displaying his solid, muscular build and made a provocative gesture towards the audience below.

A few onlookers had been quietly observing the scene. Seeing that this brute had managed to stay on the stage, they disdainfully muttered to each other, believing that such a rough man should not become the leader of the martial world.

“How about it? Do you want to go up and have a go?” As the number of contenders dwindled, He Lang glanced at Ao Li, doubting whether he was about to fall asleep.

“Go?” Ao Li opened his eyes and looked at him with a hint of amusement, clearly interested in He Lang’s choice of words.

After all, this wasn’t an ordinary street fight but a top-level arena competition, gathering experts from the martial world. Even those in the farthest corners of the audience might be formidable masters of great repute.

He Lang said nothing, merely shrugged as if to question whether Ao Li would not find it interesting.

Ao Li, greatly pleased by He Lang’s unwavering confidence in him, would have immediately pulled him into an embrace if not for the presence of others. He did not care about the onlookers but was concerned that He Lang, with his delicate demeanor, might be upset.

Without further ado, Ao Li flicked off his robe and soared into the air, landing on the stage with a sudden appearance that left the crowd astonished.

The burly man glanced at Ao Li’s slightly slender frame and sneered in contempt. However, seeing his poised demeanor and exceptional presence, he did not dare to underestimate him. He intended to strike first and intimidate this newcomer, but before he could even move, he suddenly fell dead, his major acupoints erupting with blood as if ignited by gunpowder.

Meanwhile, Ao Li remained calmly standing, unruffled.

The air still held traces of distortion. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that a few waves of energy had struck the burly man’s vital points with such overwhelming force that there was no way to dodge them. The decisive blow had ended the fight swiftly and directly.

The unexpected conclusion of the fight left the spectators in shock. They had not anticipated such a simple resolution to a battle, but it demonstrated the profound inner strength of the newcomer, who had overwhelmed an expert with ease.

This spectacle fired up the crowd, sparking a competitive spirit among those eager to challenge such a formidable opponent. An elderly, emaciated man leaped onto the stage with the agility of a light swallow, his eyes gleaming. He sighed, “Finally, a remarkable young man. I have come to test him!”

Without hesitation, he made his move, darting towards Ao Li like a ghostly shadow with a forceful wind.

Ao Li calmly raised his hand, releasing a surge of air. However, this time, he did not easily deflect the attack; he barely managed to block it, revealing the depth of the old man’s inner strength, which made Ao Li’s expression sharpen.

The old man paused momentarily, then, with a hearty laugh, he launched another attack. Stepping forward with his left foot and lightly tapping the tip of his toes, he struck like a drawn sword. Ao Li’s previous nonchalance faded, and he prepared to fully engage with this concealed expert.

The speed of their exchanges was so rapid that only someone with extensive martial arts experience and keen eyesight could follow. He Lang, finding it difficult to keep up, chose to wait quietly for the outcome, occasionally gleaning information from the reactions of others.

Even with He Lang’s usual detachment, he could not ignore the increasingly intense aura of the two fighters, especially Ao Li. The dark aura of his demonic energy overflowed uncontrollably, turning his presence into a thick, oppressive black cloud that relentlessly clashed with his opponent’s energy.

The audience recognized the old man and displayed astonished and respectful expressions. Shouts of “Dugu Elder,” “A century of martial arts,” “Re-emergence,” and “Supreme in the world” filled the air, echoing in He Lang’s ears. Seeing Ao Li’s increasingly serious demeanor, He Lang knew this opponent was formidable.

Though Ao Li’s expression was more serious than usual, his eyes radiated a combativeness He Lang had never seen before. This new fire in Ao Li’s usually cold eyes revealed a certain excitement, proving that even top experts are often keen to test their mettle against equal rivals.

The old man’s profound inner strength supported his techniques continuously, but Ao Li’s mixed-elemental magic body and his domineering style were no slouches either. Despite his youth, Ao Li matched the old man’s prowess without seeming inferior.

In the final clash, their energies surged violently, emitting a blinding light that caused martial artists around them to instinctively retreat.

With a thunderous explosion, the light faded, leaving both fighters on opposite ends and the stage reduced to rubble. The clash of titans left the crowd exhilarated, in awe of the spectacle.

The two were somewhat exhausted from the battle and decided to cease fighting. The old man, having abandoned his earlier fierceness, stroked his sparse beard and once again burst into a hearty laugh. “Youth is formidable; I am growing old! This old body is not fit for the position of the leader.”

With that, he bowed like a common elder, stretched his back and legs, hummed a disjointed tune, and nodded to the audience before disappearing into the mountains and rivers.

As his figure vanished, the audience erupted into cheers.

Ao Li scanned the crowd and found He Lang, their eyes meeting as He Lang smiled knowingly.

The host, a middle-aged man, was momentarily stunned by the situation. He loudly inquired whether anyone else wanted to challenge.

The crowd shook their heads in unison, their earlier hesitation dissolved. “If even Elder Dugu has stepped down, who else would dare to go up? Tsk, tsk, being the leader of the martial world is no easy task.”

However, some still grumbled, critiquing Ao Li. “He is indeed powerful, but isn’t he the leader of the Mixed Yuan Sect, the demon cult? Look at the demonic aura around him; how can such a person be fit to be the leader? Even in a competition, not just anyone should take up the role…”

Ao Li overheard these whispers, lowering his eyes in contemplation, his spine straightening.

He Lang looked puzzled and questioned Ao Li’s unusually somber expression despite being the final champion.

The conversation between the two drew attention from those interested in creating a stir. Seeing He Lang, they eagerly suggested, “Since Sir Zhuo is here, why not give it a try? Don’t let this trip be in vain!”

He Lang, unable to resist the intense gazes, ascended the stage and innocently shrugged at Ao Li. “A contest is fine, but I fear I might have to concede after just one move.”

Ao Li raised an eyebrow, signaling him to make the first move.

He Lang half-heartedly threw a palm strike.

After witnessing the series of battles between top experts, He Lang’s strike, lacking in force, seemed weak. Nevertheless, Ao Li was pushed back to the edge of the stage and regretfully shook his head. “It seems my skills are not up to par.”

He Lang and the crowd were momentarily speechless, surprised that such a light strike could defeat someone who had just faced top experts and forced him to concede.

“Um… it seems… it seems Sir Zhuo is indeed superior. That seemingly weak strike was actually quite powerful. Now, who will be the next challenger?” The middle-aged host, wiping sweat from his brow, continued to fulfill his duties by asking the crowd.

Ao Li glanced around, his eyes filled with a hint of menace.

“…”

After a long silence with no responses, the host asked, “Is there no one else to challenge? Then the final champion is Sir Zhuo Shulang?”

The crowd exchanged glances, with few objections. They had heard that He Lang was benevolent, and despite earlier rumors, he was considered clean. Most importantly, he was far preferable to the demonic cult leader.

He Lang, still in a daze, was approached by the host with congratulations. Those who had previously greeted him quickly crowded around, offering their congratulations and best wishes, referring to him as “Leader” instead of “Brother Zhuo.”

The continuous calls of “Leader” filled He Lang’s ears, and amidst the crowd, he felt uncomfortable. After navigating through the throng, he thanked everyone distantly, his throat dry, and complained about the source of his predicament.

He finally spotted Ao Li, who looked relaxed and self-satisfied. He Lang’s temples throbbed with pain.

How had things turned out like this? What was Ao Li thinking?

He Lang had been in high spirits when Ao Li first secured the stage, believing that he would soon achieve success, which would, in turn, complete his task. He never expected that the position of leader would unexpectedly fall into his hands.

Author’s Note: I’m letting things unfold naturally… I hope the ending won’t turn out too unexpectedly. I’m afraid my hands might tremble and turn it into a bad ending.