Chapter Twenty: Arrogance

Listening to Yang Jiao claim that the previous contest was merely a performance, Liu Kuang and Hu Lang both furrowed their brows slightly. Liu Kuang’s expression grew darker, and unconsciously, he tightened his fists. Even though he had triumphed over Hu Lang, there remained a discomfort within Liu Kuang’s heart. After all, it hadn’t been a real confrontation; at present, he was indeed outmatched by Hu Lang.

As for Hu Lang, he didn’t believe his strength inferior to Liu Kuang’s, but the outcome was undeniable. Yet, in truth, he felt little regret over his loss; it was only because he had been defeated that he discovered his greatest weakness.

Liu Pan was originally hesitant about whether to initiate conflict with Yang Jiao, but after Yang Jiao’s words, he understood that a battle was inevitable.

He swept his gaze across the area. Eight people—aside from Yang Jiao, the other seven were complete strangers. This brought a slight relief to Liu Pan’s heart, for he knew that any supporting characters not thoroughly described by his own pen were mere cannon fodder, extras to fill out the numbers.

Knowing there would be no peaceful resolution, Liu Pan abandoned any pretense and casually asked, “Two each, any objections?”

His words stunned everyone. Liu Pan was far too blunt, too audacious—he simply asked directly before the opposing side, truly brazen!

The first to respond was not Liu Kuang, nor Hu Lang or Ye Ming, but Yang Jiao.

“Well now, you’re quite bold!” Yang Jiao’s expression was grim, and without waiting for Liu Pan’s group to reply, he waved his hand and barked, “Get them!”

At Yang Jiao’s command, everyone snapped to attention, and a chaotic melee erupted instantly.

Liu Kuang moved, his fists glowing with a crimson light, and charged toward the two closest to him. At once, the sound of fists striking flesh echoed loudly.

However, Liu Pan had underestimated the strength of these so-called extras. They were disciples residing on the Eighth Peak, all at the ninth rank of martial cultivation; it would indeed be strange if they lacked ability.

Moreover, due to the arena duel, Liu Kuang was gravely injured. Engaging two opponents simultaneously, he immediately fell into a defensive position, forced to fend off their attacks.

As for Hu Lang, as a flash of green light appeared beneath his feet, he heard the rush of wind—a reflex, his body darted three feet to the right. Yet, just as he dodged, a kick sent him flying, accompanied by mocking laughter: “I thought you were just playing around on the arena, but now it seems this is truly your weakness.”

Hu Lang’s expression darkened; after the disciples’ contest, he calmed down and quickly realized the root of his weakness.

Although he understood his problem, ingrained habits of combat thinking were not easily changed. In the short term, fighting opponents aware of his flaw would always put him at a disadvantage.

And now, nearly everyone in the Baiyang Sect knew his weakness, and his two opponents were no exception. Thus, from the outset, this battle was destined to be a bitter struggle for Hu Lang.

Ye Ming was utterly bewildered. Four against eight, with one teammate severely wounded and another whose weakness was fully exposed—they were at a clear disadvantage!

Originally, Ye Ming thought Liu Pan would devise a plan for retreat, but Liu Pan was astonishingly straightforward, initiating action without hesitation. It was audacious, audacious beyond all bounds!

Yet, Ye Ming’s confusion was not solely due to Liu Pan’s boldness. With Yang Jiao’s shouted command, he suddenly found himself surrounded by three opponents, prompting him to curse aloud. Wasn’t it supposed to be two per person? Why had he ended up facing three?

Glancing at Liu Pan, Ye Ming was so frustrated he could cough blood; Liu Pan stood serenely where he was, exchanging a “deep and meaningful” gaze with Yang Jiao, showing no intention of joining the fray.

The reason for Ye Ming’s predicament was that one of Yang Jiao’s men had come over from Liu Pan’s side. Presumably, Yang Jiao felt confident enough to handle Liu Pan alone and sent the other to assist against Ye Ming, who was neither injured nor exposed like Liu Kuang and Hu Lang.

Yang Jiao didn’t attack immediately, and Liu Pan was in no hurry either. He mused, “Let’s not rush. Why don’t we watch how the others fare first?”

Yang Jiao was momentarily taken aback, glancing at the three ongoing battles and seeing his side had the advantage in each. He snorted coldly, “Since you wish to watch, then watch. I hope you can remain so calm later.”

In truth, Yang Jiao was not entirely confident he could defeat Liu Pan. He had sent an extra man to Ye Ming’s battle circle partly because Ye Ming was not easily handled, and partly to avoid diminishing his own side’s momentum. As the Baiyang Sect’s top pre-initiate, he had his pride to uphold.

Since neither was eager to attack, Liu Pan watched the evolving battle with satisfaction. Once fighting began, the situation was unfolding exactly as he had hoped.

In the original novel, Liu Kuang directly clashed with Yang Jiao, but now, while gravely injured, facing two slightly lesser ninth-rank martial disciples would give him pressure and accelerate his growth.

Moreover, Liu Kuang had cultivated the Flame Dragon Body Technique, a method designed to strengthen the body. The heavier the blows he received, the more thoroughly his body would be tempered by the technique. While this wouldn’t propel him immediately to the next realm, it would solidify his ninth-rank status.

For Hu Lang, this was a chance to attempt changing his ingrained combat habits. His two opponents—one hurling stones, the other delivering kicks—worked in perfect tandem, making him acutely aware of how dangerous his habitual thinking was.

Such pressure would drive Hu Lang to urgently want to overcome his own limitations, a powerful stimulus indeed.

As for Ye Ming, facing three opponents was a recipe for disaster. Yet Liu Pan intended precisely to let this “pure” youth from the mountains experience a little torment.

After all, if not for this fellow, Liu Pan wouldn’t be in this predicament. Furthermore, once this event unfolded, it would drastically alter the storyline in the book; while it might not affect the world outside Baiyang Sect, the subsequent life within the sect would be far less predictable for Liu Pan.

The sound of blows never ceased. Liu Kuang, fighting two ninth-rank martial disciples, was completely on the defensive. His injuries were severe, and his internal energy not yet fully recovered, making the battle arduous.

Yet, Liu Kuang’s opponents were shocked. Each time their fists landed, Liu Kuang appeared on the verge of collapse, but somehow he always managed to stabilize himself, enduring their attacks head-on. It was incomprehensible.

Compared to Liu Kuang’s passive beating, Hu Lang’s plight was even more miserable. His speed was utterly countered, and with his focus solely on agility, he gained nothing from direct confrontation. He found himself unable to effectively strike back at either opponent.

Perhaps escape was his best option, but how could he flee? Glancing at Liu Kuang, who was taking blows nearby, then at Liu Pan watching calmly, Hu Lang gritted his teeth, pushed his speed to its limit, and charged once more at his two adversaries.

“Bang!”

As expected, Hu Lang was kicked away again, accompanied by the mocking voices of his opponents.

In comparison to Liu Kuang’s suffering and Hu Lang’s misery, Ye Ming was truly desperate—calling out for help would be futile. As the saying goes, two hands are no match for four, and now he faced six.

Honestly, if it were one-on-one, Ye Ming would fear nothing; even two against one he felt confident. But three against one, with his current skills, was simply too much.

Ever since Liu Pan had decided to fight, Ye Ming’s thoughts had dwelled mostly on escape.

It would be easy enough to run, but then what? The Eighth Peak was only so large—where could he go?

Moreover, on the Eighth Peak, Liu Pan, Hu Lang, and Liu Kuang, all newly initiated disciples, were here. If Ye Ming fled now, he would be left to “fly solo.” He would have old enemies and no allies among the newcomers, making it nearly impossible to survive peacefully on the Eighth Peak.

Thus, Ye Ming suppressed his urge to run, struggling to have his two fists fend off six hands. What he wanted most now was for Liu Pan to quickly start fighting Yang Jiao.

Ye Ming had always been curious about Liu Pan. The reason he wanted Liu Pan to fight Yang Jiao was to see whether Liu Pan could truly match him. In his view, if Liu Pan couldn’t stand up to Yang Jiao, it would be better to escape early—even “flying solo” would be preferable to enduring this torment. He could always work hard, break through to the next realm, and transfer to the Seventh Peak, leaving this place behind.

Yet what drove Ye Ming mad was that Liu Pan and Yang Jiao remained motionless, watching the battle with interest. It left him caught between a rock and a hard place.

Should he run? What if Liu Pan really could defeat Yang Jiao? If he fled now, it would be hard to fit in later.

Should he stay? But being beaten passively couldn’t go on forever—was he supposed to wait until he was turned into a pig’s head? Impossible!

Bold, bold. Ultimately, it was Liu Pan’s audacity that convinced Ye Ming Liu Pan had the strength to defeat Yang Jiao.

After all, that remark was delivered with such casual ease, as if Yang Jiao’s eight men weren’t even worth a glance. If he didn’t have the strength, how could he dare to be so bold?