Chapter Thirteen: The Jackal Faces Liu Kuang

"I hereby announce that the top four in this year's new disciples' tournament are Ye Ming, Liu Pan, Liu Kuang, and Hu Lang." As Li Liao's voice fell, nearly all the newly accepted disciples were momentarily stunned, and then the entire square erupted into a commotion.

However, the uproar lasted only a moment before the square quickly fell silent once more.

When it came down to it, few had any objections to Ye Ming, Liu Pan, Liu Kuang, and Hu Lang claiming the top four spots among the new disciples. The commotion had stemmed from the fact that almost none of the newcomers had expected the "self-selected ranking" to serve as an elimination round.

As for Liu Pan, while his expression betrayed a hint of surprise, within he felt none at all. After all, this inexplicable advancement method had been designed by his own hand.

What matters most to a martial cultivator? In Liu Pan's eyes, it is not talent, nor fate, but an unyielding will to advance.

If you lack the determination to fight for the top three, what right do you have to contest those positions?

Liu Pan had entered the tournament hoping merely to gain free access to one of the sect's cultivation manuals from the library—placing in the top three would suffice. Yet, he had not chosen the third position.

The reason was clear to him: the "self-selected ranking" required three to choose, not just the first and second positions. In other words, as long as three fit the criteria, they would advance. Had he picked third, Ye Ming, Liu Kuang, and Hu Lang would have advanced directly, and he would have lost the chance to fight for the top three.

In his own narrative, only Liu Kuang, Ye Ming, and Hu Lang advanced through the "self-selected ranking," because all three simultaneously chose the first position. The second and third positions, in the end, forfeited their chance at the top three.

As for why Liu Pan chose first over second, it was because two had already claimed the second spot; had he joined them, he would have had to contest both Liu Kuang and Hu Lang for second place—two matches, too troublesome.

All in all, Liu Pan had made the entrance tournament for the sect quite humane: each new disciple was given two chances to advance to the top ten, and those top ten got two more chances to reach the top three. Li Liao had twice confirmed if everyone was certain of their self-selected rankings. With such opportunities, those who failed had only themselves to blame.

Now that the top four were decided, the true battle for the top three was about to begin. The six who had chosen the third position were called off the stage, leaving only Liu Pan and the other three on the platform.

"Congratulations on becoming the top four among the new disciples," Li Liao said, glancing at the four. "However, in martial cultivation, one must not grow arrogant with victory, nor disheartened in defeat. One must preserve the core spirit. Even as you stand among the top four, do not become conceited and lose your way. Always remind yourselves: a cultivator must advance with unwavering resolve."

"Yes," the four replied in unison.

Li Liao nodded slightly and swept his gaze across the crowd. "Now, we begin the contest for the top three. First, the two who selected the second position will compete; the winner advances to the top three, the loser is eliminated. Then, the two who selected the first position will face off to determine their respective ranks. Finally, the winner of the first match will be given the choice to challenge either of the other two, thus deciding the final rankings."

There were no questions; Li Liao's instructions were clear.

The first match was quickly underway: the two who had chosen the second position, Liu Kuang and Hu Lang.

"I hope you won't disappoint me," Hu Lang remarked coolly, casting a discreet glance at Liu Pan, who watched from the platform's edge.

Liu Kuang frowned, also glancing toward Liu Pan. He still couldn't fathom why Liu Pan had said those words to Hu Lang.

Liu Kuang had observed Hu Lang's matches over the last few days and knew well there was a gap between them. Liu Kuang, after all, was only an eighth-stage martial artist; that he stood among the top four was already seen as remarkable, especially since among the fifth- to tenth-ranked disciples, three were ninth-stage cultivators.

Regarding this match, Liu Pan himself was uncertain. The Liu Kuang before him was not quite the Liu Kuang he had written in his story. With an eighth-stage cultivation, even withstanding Hu Lang's attacks was questionable, let alone defeating him—it seemed nearly impossible.

Nevertheless, Liu Pan still placed his hopes on Liu Kuang. This was, after all, his protagonist; for him to be defeated so easily in such a place would be unthinkable. Liu Pan was eager to see what method Liu Kuang would use to win.

"You may begin," Li Liao said casually, as he stepped back to the platform's edge.

In an instant, Liu Kuang and Hu Lang moved.

Both their steps flickered with faint light, a sign they had trained in movement techniques. Liu Kuang was fast, but Hu Lang was faster.

In the blink of an eye, a dull thud resounded—one figure was sent flying, crashing heavily near the platform's edge, almost eliminated in a single blow.

Gasps erupted from the crowd; no one had expected the battle for the top three to be so decisive from the start.

Overwhelming suppression—absolute dominance.

Seeing that it was Liu Kuang who had been knocked back, Liu Pan was unsurprised. Hu Lang believed in the principle that "in all martial arts, speed is invincible." Though Liu Kuang was skilled in movement, his speed was still inferior to Hu Lang's.

Hu Lang frowned. He had never understood how he had lost to Liu Pan. To find the answer, he had trusted Liu Pan's words, believing he could discover it in his match with Liu Kuang.

That was why, during the self-selected ranking, Hu Lang had unhesitatingly chosen to stand with Liu Kuang, aiming for a direct confrontation.

Yet, to his surprise, in their very first exchange—

Turning to the edge of the platform, Hu Lang saw Liu Pan, who watched on with calm composure, a faint smile on his lips.

What was this? If Liu Pan had merely tricked him, his purpose should have been fulfilled, so why this serene demeanor? Suddenly, Hu Lang paused, for Liu Pan gave a subtle nod, as if urging him to continue.

Still more to come? Hu Lang frowned and turned to see Liu Kuang had already stood, blood trickling from his lips—a clear sign of injury from the previous blow.

After a moment's thought, a strange light flashed in Hu Lang's eyes, and he charged at Liu Kuang once more.

Bang!

Another dull impact sounded as Liu Kuang was sent flying yet again.

But to everyone's surprise, this time Liu Kuang landed not outside the stage, but closer to its center.

Even Liu Kuang himself was puzzled. Yet catching Liu Pan's gentle smile from the platform's edge, he realized Liu Pan must have signaled something to Hu Lang.

Why? Liu Kuang frowned, unable to grasp why Liu Pan had claimed he could help Hu Lang understand his own defeat. Facing Hu Lang, he now truly felt the overwhelming difference in speed—he had no chance to retaliate.

Did enduring a beating really help Hu Lang understand his loss to Liu Pan? Obviously not. But if not, then why—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

One heavy collision after another rang out. The spectators below watched in stunned silence, while even the elders and Yang Jiangshui in the stands frowned. As for Third Elder Li Liao, the referee, he was thoroughly baffled.

Yet Liu Kuang never left the stage, nor did he concede. Hu Lang only struck once Liu Kuang stood again each time. Thus, even as referee, Li Liao had no grounds to halt the match.

On Tianfeng Continent, martial cultivation is a path of relentless advancement. Everyone must accept their choices and learn to respect those of others.

Now, on the stage, although Liu Kuang suffered repeatedly, he did not lose his fighting spirit nor admit defeat. Remaining on the platform was his own choice, and none had the right to interfere.

Time and again he was knocked down, only to rise once more. Gradually, Liu Kuang seemed to sense something—a glimmer of resolve flashed in his eyes.

Soon after, the speed at which he fell and rose increased noticeably.

To the others, it seemed Liu Kuang was eager for more punishment, and many watched in bewilderment.

Noticing Liu Kuang's acceleration, Liu Pan's brows lifted slightly. After a moment's thought, he confirmed his guess and a smile crept onto his lips.

He was, after all, his own protagonist; to be beaten into submission without resistance would be most unseemly.

As Liu Kuang's pace of falling and rising quickened, Hu Lang, frowning, also increased the speed of his attacks. The platform echoed constantly with dull thuds, and nearly everyone stared at Liu Kuang as if he were mad.

Yet none noticed that, with every fall and rise, a faint crimson hue began to tinge the skin beneath Liu Kuang's robes.