Chapter Sixty-One: Placing Bets (Seventh Update)

Dongjiang Martial Arts Hall, also the largest comprehensive sports venue in Dongjiang. For the Xuetao Cup, ten temporary arenas had been erected inside. Five meters by five meters—the platforms were not standard-sized, but sufficient for this amateur tournament. The smaller arenas reduced the space for movement, quickening the pace of combat.

The Xuetao Cup boasted generous prizes and was a traditional event in Dongjiang, wielding great influence. Watching the Xuetao Cup during the New Year had even become a customary practice in Dongjiang. Martial artists born in Dongjiang could not resist its call. Even with the restriction that only intermediate-level fighters could register, the preliminary round drew over ten thousand participants.

All matches followed an elimination format. If, after three rounds, the match ended in a draw, both sides were eliminated. With so many contestants, the organizing committee borrowed venues from various school martial arts halls for the preliminaries. Only advanced martial artists were scheduled to compete in the main arena.

Yang Ru, Yu Rulong, and Han Yang moved together, threading their way slowly through the crowded throngs. Though the three had made a name for themselves in the school league, here they attracted no attention at all. Everyone gathered here was a martial artist, at least intermediate level, and there were plenty of warriors of every rank. Even Yang Ru, usually so flamboyant, was subdued in this setting. The trio arrived at Arena Ten and completed their registration with the staff.

“Don’t leave. When your number is called, take the stage. If you miss it, you’ll be considered to have forfeited,” the staff instructed, sending them to wait nearby.

Yang Ru noticed that the contestants waiting around them were all young people, many of whom she had faced in the school league. She was surprised. “Second Brother, so many familiar faces!”

“It’s obviously grouped by age,” the handsome Han Yang glanced at Yang Ru, wondering if she was naïve or simply slow—how could she not notice?

“Why though?” Yang Ru looked puzzled. The Xuetao Cup didn’t divide by age, so why have a youth group?

“To give us a few more spots in the semifinals,” Han Yang explained patiently.

Even among advanced martial artists, ten years of training and twenty years made a vast difference—let alone those strengthened with various enhancement drugs and surgical modifications. By grouping the youth together for the preliminaries, it was both a protection and a way to reserve two places in the top thirty-two for young contestants.

“But that means we’ll face top fighters…” Yang Ru’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She knew she wasn’t a match for the advanced fighters herself, but she had faith in Han Yang.

“Probably,” Han Yang replied, unconcerned. His ambitions were greater; he didn’t see the advanced fighters as true rivals.

“Speak of the devil!” Yu Rulong pointed into the distance. “Isn’t that Gao Wu!”

He then looked intrigued. “Who’s the girl with him? She’s so cool!”

Yang Ru followed Yu Rulong’s gesture and saw Gao Wu at first glance. He wore a black martial arts uniform, carried a black sheathed sword, and his tall, lean figure stood out even among the crowd of fighters.

Beside Gao Wu, Song Mingyue was clad in an iron-gray woolen coat. Wide-framed sunglasses covered half her face, but couldn’t hide her refined features. Hands in her pockets, her posture was casual, yet she naturally exuded a cold, noble aura.

“This girl is such a poser!” Yang Ru muttered, though she had to admit the girl’s sense of style was impeccable, and her unique temperament left a lasting impression—she felt a twinge of envy herself.

---

She leaned close to Han Yang and whispered mockingly, “That Song family girl found Gao Wu as her boyfriend—do her family know?”

Han Yang shook his head slightly. Truth be told, seeing Song Mingyue with Gao Wu made him uncomfortable. But it was their business, not his place to interfere.

Seeing Yang Ru still muttering, Han Yang said, “Gao Wu is actually very talented. Besides, let’s just focus on ourselves. Mind our own business.”

While they spoke, Gao Wu and Song Mingyue approached. Gao Wu stepped forward to register, received his number card, and glanced at Han Yang, Yang Ru, and the others. Yang Ru lifted her chin in a show of defiance; Yu Rulong’s expression was equally stern.

Gao Wu just smiled, leading Song Mingyue over to greet them. “You’re here for the tournament?”

“Yes,” Han Yang smiled, nodding. “Maybe we’ll meet in the ring.”

“I've long heard of Dongjiang’s top high school student. If we do meet, I’d like to see your skills,” Gao Wu said, clearly impressed with Han Yang. With his handsome looks and courteous manner, it was no wonder the officials promoted him as Dongjiang’s number one.

Such an image was perfect for promoting the school league.

The two exchanged polite words, but Song Mingyue gazed at one of the arenas, seemingly indifferent to Han Yang and Gao Wu’s conversation.

Yang Ru couldn’t stand Song Mingyue’s aloofness. She eyed her and asked, “Why aren’t you signing up? I heard you’re an advanced martial artist too.”

Song Mingyue looked at Yang Ru and replied softly, “I don’t like fighting.”

“Then why are you here?” Yang Ru scoffed—this girl was such a poser!

Song Mingyue fell silent; there was no need to respond to such questions.

Gao Wu laughed, “She dislikes fighting. I was afraid someone might try something against me, so I dragged her along.”

Even Han Yang, polite and smiling, was taken aback—what did he mean by that? Yang Ru and Yu Rulong’s expressions grew even stranger.

With Gao Wu’s reputation for cleaving demon cultists with his sword, did he really need Song Mingyue’s protection? What a joke!

Moreover, Gao Wu carried his sword so conspicuously. With all contestants here, and advanced warriors overseeing the venue, who would dare cause trouble?

There were few acquaintances in the vast martial arts hall. Gao Wu had hoped to chat with Han Yang and the others, at least as peers. But with Yang Ru so unfriendly, there was nothing more to say.

With a polite nod, Gao Wu led Song Mingyue to the other side.

“That girl has a lot of hostility toward you—she must be jealous of your beauty, your elegance, and your wit!” Gao Wu declared confidently; otherwise, why would Yang Ru be so antagonistic?

Song Mingyue was unconcerned. She said, “Dongjiang First High will go to Beizhou in April for the Qilin Cup. That’s the school league finals, the highest honor for school martial arts. Do you want to go?”

“How would I get in?” Gao Wu was intrigued, but Dongjiang First High would hardly want him.

“If you win the Xuetao Cup, the school will be eager to invite you. I can help arrange it—it’s not difficult,” Song Mingyue said.

“The Qilin Cup…” Gao Wu was wistful. It was the tournament that gathered all the prodigies of Beizhou.

Seventy-seven cities in Beizhou—Dongjiang wasn’t small, but only managed to rank as second-tier. In terms of scale, the Xuetao Cup and Qilin Cup were worlds apart; the influence of the latter was on another level entirely.

---

Gao Wu could only dream. The matter in Huanghai weighed on his heart like a stone; until it was resolved, he had no interest in anything else.

“Let’s talk about it after everything’s done,” he said.

Song Mingyue understood. She covered her mouth and whispered, “Your odds of winning are 167 to 1—the bookmaker behind it is Jinyuan Corporation. We could bet a million.”

Given Gao Wu’s tournament record, those odds were reasonable. But as an internet celebrity, his fame made things different.

“You trust me too much!” Gao Wu thought for a moment. “Place another two million for me.”

It was a good opportunity to make money—risky, but he was confident in himself.

“I’ve calculated that they can afford to pay out that much. Any more and it’s uncertain,” Song Mingyue warned. “If you really make it to the finals, with so much money riding on you, they’ll use every trick to force you to lose.”

Whether Jinyuan Corporation’s backers were demon cultists or not, they would never make a losing deal. Even cultists needed food and drink; without money, their god was powerless in the mortal world.

With immense profits came immense risks.

“I’ll place the bets for you; if you lose, just pay me back,” Song Mingyue said.

Gao Wu was about to reply when, glancing around, he spotted an extraordinarily striking woman in the crowd.

She stood at least one meter eighty-five, taller than most men around her. Her jet-black, sharply arched brows and eyes bright as stars, combined with heroic, perfectly sculpted features, made her breathtaking. Her figure was slender yet curvaceous, her skin a healthy sun-kissed shade. The dark blue training suit she wore fit perfectly, and her black-brown hair was pulled into a loose braid, exuding a youthful, carefree flair.

Song Mingyue and Shang Qingjun were both stunning with remarkable presence, but this woman’s beauty was unique. She fused feminine allure with the strength of a martial artist, creating a distinctive charm.

The beauty spotted Gao Wu, her eyes lighting up as she strode over swiftly.

Gao Wu was surprised, but also a bit pleased—he was just so dazzling, it was impossible to hide. He glanced nervously at Song Mingyue beside him; though they were best friends, if the beauty was too forward, Song Mingyue might not like it.

“How to handle this beauty requires careful tact!”

As she drew near, Gao Wu offered a reserved and polite smile. But the beauty ignored him, instead beaming at Song Mingyue. “Hello, gorgeous! How should I address you?”

Song Mingyue said nothing, quietly gazing at her. Even with her sunglasses shielding her eyes, the beauty could sense Song Mingyue’s confusion and guardedness from her body language.

The woman flashed her flawless white teeth. “I’m Bai Yushuang—I love making friends.”

She glanced at Gao Wu, then emphasized, “Friends with beautiful women!”