Two Months Later
A boisterous commotion at the far end of the market street drew my attention. A dense crowd of men had gathered around a makeshift arena in the open square. Just beyond them, I could make out groups of women standing beneath the shade of nearby trees, shielding themselves from the oppressive sun. Children darted through the chaos, their laughter mingling with the rising chatter, though any who tried to sneak a closer look at the spectacle were promptly shooed away by the adults.
Even with my still-improving vision, I could see the wide arena clearly. At its center, two men were locked in fierce combat.
"A martial arts tournament?" I murmured, intrigued. It was surprising to see such a display in a modest town like this.
Ruan Yanjun stood beside me, his arms folded casually as if he'd seen this a hundred times before. "Do you want to watch?" he asked, his tone indifferent yet carrying an edge of curiosity.
I glanced at him, hesitating. "Do we have time?"
"If it's about cultivation, we have plenty," he said with a faint smile, already striding toward the crowd.
I followed close behind, weaving through the throng until we reached a spot where we could see clearly. We were taller than most of the villagers, so it wasn't difficult to stand just a few feet back and still get a good view of the action.
The two fighters in the arena were an interesting contrast. One was older, bulkier, his movements slower but forceful. The other was younger, wiry, and agile, moving with a precision that spoke of rigorous training. It quickly became apparent that the older fighter was struggling.
The younger man—his name, Bao Bao, was shouted repeatedly by the crowd—pressed the attack with relentless punches, forcing his opponent back step by step. Then, in a decisive move, Bao Bao leaped into the air, delivering a sharp kick to the man's neck before following up with an energy-infused palm strike to the chest.
The older man crumpled to the ground in a heap, barely conscious.
The crowd erupted into cheers as the referee declared Bao Bao the winner. The young fighter basked in their adulation, standing astride his defeated opponent with a smug grin and his arms raised high.
"Not even a minute," someone near us muttered, impressed.
"He's incredible," another man said to his companion. "Reaching level three at just twenty-one? He has no rivals here. He should leave for a bigger city—sect leaders would be fighting over him!"
"True, but he has his own plans," the second man replied, nodding sagely. "He's determined to build a sect here to honor his hometown. Someday, he even plans to challenge the Eternal Damnation Sect Leader, Ruan."
"That's bold," the first man said with a laugh. "But I think he could do it. Give him ten years, maybe less. Sect Leader Ruan better watch out."
I glanced at Ruan Yanjun, who stood silently beside me. Though his face remained composed, I could hear the faint sound of suppressed laughter in his throat.
"They don't know who they're talking about," I whispered, trying to defend the villagers' pride.
"I'm not offended, A-Fan," he replied, his voice laced with amusement. "They're just so... entertaining."
Meanwhile, Bao Bao was soaking in the crowd's adoration, his grin as wide as the horizon. I couldn't deny his talent—his moves were sharp, and his strength was impressive for his age. But his arrogance was glaring. He lacked the humility to temper his ambition.
"Our young champion wishes to give you more entertainment!" the referee announced, raising his voice to hush the murmuring crowd. "Since the last fight was so quick, Bao Bao is open to challengers! Who dares to test their skills against our hero?"
The square fell silent. No one moved.
Bao Bao leaned toward the referee and whispered something, his expression cocky.
"Our champion," the referee continued, now grinning broadly, "is willing to fight two opponents at once!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Still, no one stepped forward.
"I accept the challenge."
The voice rang out confidently, cutting through the silence like a blade.
I froze. My stomach sank as I recognized the voice instantly. Turning sharply, I saw Ruan Yanjun striding forward, his hands clasped behind his back and his every step exuding an aura of arrogance so palpable it felt suffocating.
"Lord Ruan—!" I hissed, but he didn't even glance my way.
The entire square went dead silent. All eyes followed him as he crossed the open ground. His imposing frame, standing a head taller than most, cast a long shadow across the arena. Even the ever-cocky Bao Bao faltered, his grin slipping as his eyes widened in disbelief.
Ruan Yanjun stopped in front of Bao Bao, his posture regal, his expression calm. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, locked onto the younger man.
Is he really going to fight a level three?
I thought he does not fight with nobodies? Or ants as he'd called them.
But here he was, standing before the stunned Bao Bao and a crowd that didn't even dare to breathe.
I wasn't sure what was more shocking—his decision to fight or the absolute certainty in his eyes that this was going to be over in seconds.
What on earth have you gotten yourself into this time, Lord Ruan?
The referee was the first to recover from the shock, scurrying up to Ruan Yanjun with an awkward smile plastered across his face. "Ah... may I know this good man's name, please?"
Ruan Yanjun smirked, his hands still casually clasped behind his back. "My name is not important."
The referee blinked, visibly taken aback. "But, sir, you must introduce yourself before we can allow you to—"
"I don't fight with nobodies," Ruan Yanjun interrupted, his tone sharp and cutting.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The insult hit like a slap, and I watched Bao Bao's face flush a deep, furious red. His shoulders squared, and his jaw tightened as the crowd began murmuring, their excitement turning into simmering tension.
Panicking, I pushed my way through the crowd and grabbed Ruan Yanjun's wrist, my heart pounding. "My lord," I whispered urgently, "please let it go. This isn't worth it."
He glanced down at me, his smile softening for a brief moment—but only for me. Then, as if dismissing my plea entirely, he turned back to Bao Bao and gestured toward me.
"Here is your opponent."
It took me a moment to process his words. When realization struck, my stomach dropped.
He couldn't mean me. Surely, he didn't just challenge Bao Bao on my behalf.
The crowd collectively turned to stare at me, their gazes sharp as blades. I felt my knees weaken under the weight of their scrutiny, my pulse thundering in my ears.
Bao Bao broke the silence with a snort of disbelief. "You're joking, right? A level one?" He sneered, his eyes raking over my frail figure with disdain. "A level two couldn't last a minute against me, and you're offering me a level one? What kind of farce is this?"
I had, in truth, surpassed level two not long ago, though my outward appearance rarely inspired confidence in others. My frail frame, a lingering consequence of years of chronic illness, often led cultivators to dismiss me as a mere level one—a weakling barely fit for the rigorous paths of cultivation.
Neither I nor Ruan Yanjun ever went out of our way to correct this misconception. If anything, my taciturn nature and his mischievous streak seemed to encourage it. He had an almost cruel delight in watching their smug faces crumble the moment they realized their error.
Ruan Yanjun chuckled darkly, the sound rich with mockery. "Small-town hero Bao Bao, you think quite highly of yourself. Afraid, are you? Perhaps you worry that this half-blind, level one beauty will make a fool of you."
The insult landed squarely, and the young man's expression twisted into one of pure rage. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
Beside me, I could barely find the words to argue. "My lord," I hissed, pulling his sleeve. "What are you doing? I can't beat him—he's a level three!"
"You don't think you can handle a level three?" Ruan Yanjun's tone was light, teasing, but his gaze was steady and unyielding. "It's time to test what you've learned these past two months."
Before I could muster another protest, Bao Bao barked, "Fine! I'll fight him. But don't blame me if your disciple dies. This isn't my fault!"
"Do your worst," Ruan Yanjun replied smoothly. "Kill him if you must... that is, if you can."
Bao Bao's fury boiled over, and the crowd buzzed with excitement as he stormed into the arena.
"Lord Ruan, please—" I tried one last time, my voice trembling.
He bent closer, his voice dropping low enough for only me to hear. "Trust yourself, A-Fan. You'll surprise even him." Then, with a playful grin, he added, "Oh, and don't use the Quickie. I'd rather not hear the gossip about your so-called 'signature move.'"
I could've strangled him if I weren't already petrified. He patted my shoulder and stepped back to the sidelines, leaving me to face Bao Bao alone.