CHAPTER 61: CHAPTER 61: IT’S REALLY DIFFERENT FROM BEFORE

On the weekend, Wang Lan, wearing a tight-fitting, elastic T-shirt and a pair of jeans, took Ghost Wail and left home.

By the time he arrived at Suzhou City Sports Stadium, the area outside was already swarming with people.

If his classmates exemplified the ’alternative style’ of unruly youths, then the crowd at the gymnasium entrance was a grand spectacle of non-conformity. It featured people with outlandish, attention-grabbing fashion—think extreme hairstyles and eccentric outfits—and even individuals cosplaying as characters from martial arts anime or wuxia stories.

Most people on the scene sported styles so unique they defied imagination. There were girls in short skirts showing off their pale legs, their faces painted with intricate patterns. Muscle-bound men with shaved heads, a tail of braids at the back, wore studded sleeveless vests, hinting at obscure hobbies.

There were men wearing eyeshadow, swordsmen with nose rings, and petite girls carrying two-handed swords and Wolf Fang Clubs.

Frankly, Wang Lan couldn’t quite understand the taste of these Star Martial Warriors.

However, Wang Lan’s appearance blended in perfectly with this non-mainstream crowd because he was wearing a moon-white mask. Even with his normal attire, the mask made him fit right in.

Although Star Martial Warriors were generally rugged in appearance and unique in their styles, they were all orderly, lining up and entering the sports venue one by one, presenting their Star Martial Badge. Upon entry, each person received a number, which would serve as their identification for the event.

At that moment, the sports hall’s large plaza had been divided into twenty combat arenas. Over today and tomorrow, eight hundred Star Martial Warriors would compete here. Rounds of preliminary matches would determine the one hundred official contestants.

Because Wang Lan had registered late, his number was seven hundred.

The preliminaries weren’t broadcast, nor were spectators invited to watch; it was an internal screening process conducted by the organizers of the Star Martial Competition. The eight hundred registered competitors were scattered sparsely across the stands, which could accommodate twenty thousand people.

Wang Lan found an empty seat and sat down as the organizer’s loudspeakers blared out the procedures and rules for the preliminary matches. Once the matches started, participants would fight as if in a normal sparring match. Anyone knocked off the platform, voluntarily surrendering, or lacking the strength to continue fighting would be declared the loser.

The organizers had also arranged for professional medical Star Martial Warriors, which eased the contestants’ worries. They had been quite thoughtful.

"What the—? We’re actually going to have a physical match?"

"Isn’t this a beauty contest? I spent three hours on my makeup for this!"

"Damn it, you think I can fight in these clothes? Are you kidding me?"

When many Star Martial Warriors realized that the preliminary round actually involved real combat to select participants, curses erupted on the spot.

Wang Lan was somewhat dumbfounded. Wasn’t it written in the participation notice? Did they really think it was a talent show?

"Hello!" Suddenly, a voice reached his ears. Wang Lan turned to see a young man so thin he seemed to have no flesh left on his bones. Wang Lan had met him once before.

"Hello!" Wang Lan nodded in reply.

"I didn’t expect you to participate in the Star Martial Competition too," the other said, essentially confirming he recognized Wang Lan. Wang Lan turned to scrutinize the man. The man smiled faintly, his gaze landing on the Ghost Wail in Wang Lan’s hand.

Wang Lan smiled. "So, you recognized me because of this. I overlooked that."

"Not entirely. Still, you wouldn’t have expected to meet me here. Are you participating anonymously?" he asked, noticing Wang Lan’s mask.

"Yeah."

"Why did you decide to join the Star Martial Competition? I’m guessing... you’re still a student, right?" The man seemed friendly but might also have been fishing for information. Wang Lan was bored, so having someone to talk to wasn’t bad.

"To hone my combat skills!" Wang Lan replied tersely.

"Combat skills?" The man seemed surprised. "You joined the Star Martial Competition to hone your combat skills? Don’t you know the first two competitions were scripted and fake?"

"Oh? I didn’t know."

"The essence of real combat is to defeat the enemy with a single move, but would you dare do that on the platform? No one fights to kill. It’s all about looking good, fighting gracefully, and appearing cool," the thin man said, a hint of ironic amusement on his face.

"How can a Star Martial Warrior’s fight be that exciting?"

Is this season also fake like the previous ones? Wang Lan was puzzled. If it was fake, no one had told him how to fake a fight.

"This season, the organizers have publicly claimed it will be close to real combat, with no deception. But given the reputation of the previous two seasons, who knows if it’s true? Perhaps not this time.

But let me tell you, in a real fight with a Star Martial Warrior, they won’t waste a single word on you. They strike without the slightest warning, their moves are lethal, and it’s a matter of life and death in an instant."

Wang Lan looked into the man’s earnest eyes and nodded silently. Huang Feilong had once solemnly told him these very things, and Wang Lan had encountered such situations in the trial grounds.

Consider the Star Martial Warrior who had suddenly appeared, pretending to be separated from his teammates to get close. If Jiang Xinyu hadn’t been strong enough, their squad might have been wiped out on the spot.

That man had used a killing move right away. Wang Lan hadn’t even clearly seen how Xu Xiangwen’s two clones were instantly killed, their throats slashed.

But not all students had real combat experience like Wang Lan; no amount of simulated combat could compare to the real thing. If one naively believed that battles between Star Martial Warriors were truly so harmonious, they wouldn’t even know how they died.

And these weren’t words that just anyone would casually share with a stranger.

"Thank you!" Wang Lan replied coolly. "By the way, why did you join the Star Martial Competition? Are you also seeking fame and hoping to make a debut, like them?"

"Fame?" The other scoffed with disdain. "To ordinary people, sure, it’s fame. But in the eyes of true Star Martial Warriors, it’s a disgrace."

"What do you mean?"

"Warriors belong on the battlefield; performers belong in the palace hall. Star Martial Warriors are the guardians of human civilization, not attention-seeking entertainers. Star Martial Skills aren’t an art form, nor are they merely for show."

Wang Lan’s mouth twitched into an inadvertent smile, but inwardly, he dismissed the thought. After all that talk, haven’t you still ended up here?

"I’m here for the money!"

"Money?"

"Successfully reaching the top thirteen yields a reward of 100,000. Making it to the top seven brings 200,000; the top four, 400,000; and the semi-finals, 1,000,000. The champion receives a 3,000,000 reward. I just want to get that money, and then I’ll leave!"

"Are you in great need of money?"

"I am!" The other man laughed and looked at the arena where the competition had already begun. "My name is Hu Qing."

"Wang Lan," Wang Lan murmured quietly in response.

"Star Martial Warriors shouldn’t actually be short of money. They receive welfare stipends, and even if they do jobs that regular people can handle, their salaries are much higher. Who would come here if not in urgent need of a large sum of money?"

Wang Lan remained silent, just listening. Hu Qing seemed to want to vent his troubles, but Wang Lan had no desire to be his audience. One reason—we’re not close.

Hu Qing seemed to sense this and quickly fell silent, focusing intently on the combat unfolding in the venue.

"Wang Lan, look at that contestant, number seventy-seven. His sword skill is very sharp and steady. Especially his execution of ’Dropping Blade’ attacks and his ’Hand-Switching’ maneuvers with the sword, which were exceedingly proficient and flashy.

If it were on a battlefield, he should instantly switch his sword to his other hand and use a left-handed strike to kill his enemy by surprise. But his opponent is far less proficient in sword skill. In actual combat, number seventy-seven should have knocked away number ninety-six’s sword with one stroke and then beheaded him with a backhand sword strike.

At that point, not even a medical Star Martial Warrior could save him, let alone a god.

But to showcase his hand-switching and dropping-blade techniques, he repeatedly performs these maneuvers, displaying many flashy but practically useless moves. If you face him, be careful of his left-handed sword attacks; his left hand is stronger than his right."

"Hmm," Wang Lan listened quietly to Hu Qing’s commentary, analyzing the battlefield before him. Hu Qing’s insight was indeed sharp, and his experience was ample. His explanations highlighted many issues that even Wang Lan had overlooked or wouldn’t have considered.

Throughout the entire morning, nearly two hundred duels took place, but neither Wang Lan nor Hu Qing had been called to fight. Since the first round of preliminaries was scheduled to finish that day, their matches would likely be in the afternoon.

At twelve noon, the preliminaries paused. The competitors trickled out of the venue to get lunch outside. The competition would resume at half-past one. In fact, half of the competitors had already left directly after completing their matches.

The winners would return tomorrow for the second round, while the losers were, naturally, eliminated.

"Let’s go!" Wang Lan said, standing up.

"No need, I brought food," Hu Qing said with a smile, patting the package beside him.

Wang Lan stood up and left. Only after Wang Lan had disappeared around a corner of the venue did Hu Qing pick up the package, rest it on his knees, and slowly open it. Inside, there was only one plain steamed bun, about the size of an egg.

Hu Qing wolfed down the steamed bun, then unscrewed his water bottle and guzzled the water. After swallowing the bun, he opened his mouth and smiled with satisfaction.

"This sports hall is really big. I walked around and somehow ended up back here again..." Wang Lan’s voice suddenly sounded, startling Hu Qing. His face immediately turned a bit red.

"You know, this morning I learned a lot from your insights on practical combat techniques and tips. It wouldn’t be an imposition if I treated you to a meal, would it?"

"Well..."

Wang Lan slowly removed his mask. "Besides, we have another match this afternoon. I wouldn’t want to miss seeing you tomorrow because you hadn’t eaten enough."

"Okay!" The other man wasn’t one to stand on ceremony. Hearing Wang Lan’s words, he stood up and walked towards him.

"Hu Qing, if I fight in a practical, combat-oriented manner, it won’t break any rules, will it?"

"Of course not. Since the Star Martial Competition promotes itself as real combat, what’s the problem with fighting that way? Just don’t kill anyone."

"What are you thinking? Of course, I wouldn’t go for a killing blow in a martial contest. I just wanted to know if I’d be disqualified for not following their old, showy conventions."

"Heh, give it a try."

"What kind of trouble are you really in? Even if your family is struggling, it shouldn’t be this bad, right?" Wang Lan recalled the scene he had just witnessed. This is beyond mere poverty; it’s heartbreaking. Who would imagine that a dignified Star Martial Warrior could be reduced to eating a bun that could be swallowed in a single bite?

Hu Qing gave a wry smile and shook his head. "My little sister... she has late-stage bone cancer. The doctors advised us to give up, but we don’t want to. Even if I have to risk my life, if she can live one more day, that’s one more day."

Wang Lan didn’t press further. Instead, he wolfed down the food in front of him. "It’s about time. We should head to the sports hall."

Not long after the afternoon matches started, Hu Qing’s number was called.

"Young man, I’m up!"

"Practical combat?"

"Practical combat!"

"What if your opponent wants to put on a show?"

"He won’t, unless he wants to lose!" Hu Qing straightened up, turned, walked down from the stands, and entered arena number sixteen.

The match began. The moment the referee’s whistle blew, signaling the start, Hu Qing leaned forward abruptly, lunging like a sharp sword at his opponent’s face.