Chapter Sixty-Two: The Martial Arts Tournament

Chapter Sixty-Two: The Martial Arts Tournament

The success of "Zhang Gouzi’s Adventure" in the online game not only awarded Shi Bai with a ten million yuan quest reward, but also brought him a continuous stream of wealth. Especially once the once-useless boxes became valuable, both the wealthy and the common folk joined the ranks of box openers. The rich would open a hundred boxes every day, while many ordinary players would open at least one daily.

Given the game’s player base of ten million, in this nationwide craze, Shi Bai’s daily income soared to nearly ten million. It was as if Shi Bai were about to take flight from joy. He had expected to make money, but not this much. Ten million a day—within a mere ten days, his fortune had surpassed one hundred million.

He wasn’t sure if he was the first high school student to accomplish such a goal, but he was certain he was the first to do so through gaming.

“Zhang Gouzi’s Adventure! I absolutely love you!” Shi Bai, clad in a bathrobe, drank red wine on the rooftop—a toast to the moonlight, another to the system.

“Big brother!” Shi Bai hiccuped towards the system, “I really owe you for this! Without you, how could I possibly be where I am today?”

He swirled his wine and splashed a glass onto the ground, the red streak vivid as a slash of blood.

“You’re welcome,” a mechanical voice echoed in his mind. “My appearance wasn’t by chance. You earned this yourself. If you hadn’t failed since childhood, I wouldn’t have come to this world.”

Shi Bai burst out laughing. “So, you’re saying I earned it through my own hard work?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Shi Bai laughed even harder.

Just then, his phone rang. Shi Bai picked it up and saw it was Ye Rulong.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Master!” came a respectful voice on the other end.

Shi Bai curled his lips. “What is it?”

Ye Rulong hesitated. “Master, are you free tomorrow?”

“I am!” Shi Bai replied nonchalantly.

“Well, tomorrow is the Ancient City’s Martial Arts Tournament. I’d like to invite you to attend.”

“Oh!” Shi Bai suddenly remembered—the tournament was the next main quest. “Count me in.”

Ye Rulong was overjoyed. “Great! Should I register you as an independent participant, or as part of the Ye family? Of course, your disciple has no ulterior motives, but I figured that since you dislike trouble, placing your name with our family would be more convenient.”

Shi Bai smiled. He could read that old fox’s mind perfectly. Placing him under the Ye family’s banner would certainly bolster their prestige. Yet Shi Bai didn’t mind; with his strength, what did it matter whose name he competed under? Besides, it would draw less attention if he was part of the Ye family.

“All right, but you’ll need to explain to me exactly what this Martial Arts Tournament is about.”

“No problem!” Ye Rulong was clearly excited. “This tournament has existed since ancient times—no one really knows when it began, but it’s held every three years.”

“The event takes place at the city stadium. We’ll book the entire venue, and all the major clans and factions in the city will come. There should be sixty-four participants.”

“These sixty-four are grouped by internal strength, then compete against one another. On the first day, we narrow it down to the top thirty-two and then sixteen; on the second day, the top eight and four; and on the third day, the champion is decided.”

Shi Bai nodded. “I understand the basics. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Shall I pick you up?”

“No need. I know where the stadium is.”

“Very well! Then tomorrow, we await your distinguished presence.”

After the call, Shi Bai took another sip of wine. Though he looked forward to the tournament, with the system on his side, victory was assured even if he lay down and slept, so he felt no nerves.

The next morning, Shi Bai had Butler Old Li drive him to the city stadium. He had already moved out of the Wells Grand Hotel, and the comic division had relocated next to the game company. Still, he valued Butler Old Li, so he hired him at a high salary.

After parking, Shi Bai told Old Li to wait outside while he headed into the venue alone.

Today, the stadium looked truly different. Colorful banners lined the circular arena, each emblazoned with bold calligraphy—Zhou, Wang, Li, Chen—clearly the banners of various families.

At the entrance, there were guards in suits and ties, but Shi Bai could tell at a glance they were all seasoned martial artists.

Hands behind his back, Shi Bai approached the entrance. The doorman, a tall man with a buzz cut, didn’t even look at him before waving him off. “Move along, move along! The stadium’s closed today. Go play somewhere else!”

Shi Bai glanced at him. Clearly, this man didn’t know him. His reputation wasn’t widespread yet; though “Zhang Gouzi’s Adventure” had launched, Shi Bai had never given a press interview, so aside from a few in the industry, few knew his face. Moreover, these guards were martial arts experts, looking down on most. A youth as unremarkable as Shi Bai—or even your average billionaire—would not catch their eye.

“I’m here to compete in the tournament,” Shi Bai said calmly.

The doorman paused, scrutinizing Shi Bai more closely, then sent a wave of warm energy probing towards him.

“Get lost! Don’t cause trouble!” the man barked. “You don’t have a trace of internal strength. Are you here to show off and swindle people?”

“Hey! The Li family from the western city is here—welcome!” someone called out.

Before Shi Bai could respond, a crowd approached from behind, all dressed in yellow, traditional robes. At their head was a stern-faced, broad man.

He shoved Shi Bai aside. “Make way!” he commanded, leading his clan into the stadium with an air of utter arrogance.

Shi Bai frowned. “Who are they?”

The doorman gave him a contemptuous look. “Li Baxian of the western city’s Li family! He’s famous for wielding a pair of iron hammers.”

He immediately regretted saying that, jabbing a finger at Shi Bai. “Hey! Why are you still here? Do you want me to throw you out?”

Shi Bai coldly smiled. “Care to try?”

A flash of cold light passed through the doorman’s eyes as he unleashed a deadly aura. “Kid, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You still have time to leave.”

Shi Bai crossed his arms. “Heh, go ahead.”

“Who’s this?” a clear, feminine voice chimed in from behind.

Shi Bai turned to see a young woman dressed in white, ancient-style clothing, holding a long sword with a golden hilt.

She was attractive—standing out in a crowd as a beauty, though she was still a distant second to Ye Ying’er.

“Miss!” the doorman instantly bowed ninety degrees in deference.

“This man is causing trouble. We were just about to throw him out.”

The young woman glanced impatiently at Shi Bai. “Well, hurry up! The other families will be arriving soon. We’re responsible for this gate—if something happens, won’t the others just laugh at us?”

“Yes, miss!” The doorman sprang forward, seized Shi Bai by the collar, and hoisted him up. “Are you leaving or not?”