Han Yu gazed at the butcher, trying to estimate his strength but was unable to.
’Damn, one of those clairvoyant pills that gave Spirit sense would’ve co in handy here.’ Han Yu thought to himself.
Unfortunately for him, Li i had been unable to make the sa pill again. She had, of course, tried to do it and did so animal testing first, but they had been quite lethal, so she suspended that for the ti being.
After all, she didn’t want her precious pill tester to do so soon.
As the ti of the match grew closer, and people finished placing thier bets, Han Yu could only hope that the man in front of him wasn’t a qi cultivator.
Though as a last try, he decided to just ask the man.
"Hey, what’s your cultivation?" Han Yu questioned.
"Not telling." The butcher said with a bloody grin.
"Figured it won’t be that easy." Han Yu muttered to himself before he saw the referee move.
GONG
The gong sounded.
The Butcher of ngzi River Stronghold charged forward, dual cleavers glinting in the torchlight, a manic grin plastered on his face.
Han Yu imdiately backpedaled.
"Ti to channel my ultimate technique," he muttered, dodging a cleaver strike by a hair. "The Ancient Art of Don’t-Get-Murdered."
CLANG!
A cleaver struck the ground where Han Yu had been a second ago, kicking up dust and splinters.
The crowd roared. They wanted blood.
Han Yu had other plans.
He slipped his hand into his robe sleeve, fumbling around until he found one of Li i’s "bonus pills"—the ones ant to be thrown, not eaten. He wasn’t sure what it did. He wasn’t sure Li i knew what it did. But right now, anything was better than getting diced into stir fry.
For a mont, he hesitated.
’Wait, is this allowed?’ Han Yu wondered but then saw the butcher charging towards him with a murderous glint in his eyes. "Fuck that, it is what it is." Death was much closer to him than whatever punishent he might get later.
He lobbed it at the Butcher.
PFFFFFSSHHH
The pill detonated mid-air, erupting in a thick cloud of violently pink smoke and a sll like spicy rotten cabbage mixed with wet dog.
The Butcher stopped mid-charge, coughing and gagging. "What in the na of all that’s holy—UGH! My eyes!"
The Butcher felt like he had just slled so rotten kimchi that was eaten by a dog than shat out. It was enough to make him feel his insides churn.
’It’s now or never.’ Seeing that, Han Yu didn’t hesitate. "Forbidden Street Skill Number One: Ball Buster!" He used his second strongest skill.
He ran forward and kicked the man square in the groin and that too with his leg being strengthened by Vital Energy!
WHUMP!
The Butcher folded like bad laundry, hitting the ground with a pained wheeze.
Han Yu grabbed his cleavers, flung them out of the ring almost hitting a few observers who barely managed to dodge them, and delivered a very undignified elbow drop to the man’s belly just for good asure.
WHUMP!
A beat of stunned silence.
Then the announcer scread, "WINNER—HAN YU!"
The arena exploded into cheers, boos, and frenzied shouting.
Soone from the crowd yelled, "What the hell was that? Was that a perfu bomb or a demonic stink spell?!"
Han Yu stumbled out of the ring, waving away the remaining pink cloud. "That, my friend, was called strategy."
Having barely won, Han Yu went to the backstage.
Han Yu sat down on the bench, breathing heavily. His heart was still hamring, his palms slick with sweat.
"That... was too close," he muttered.
One of the underground organizers approached him, tossing him a pouch of gold coins. "Not bad, kid. Unorthodox, but effective. Might have to bump you up a few tiers."
Han Yu forced a smile. "Haha... right. Just let rest and maybe change my pants first."
"How much did I get though?" He wondered and looked in the pouch.
Luo Fan hadn’t ntioned anything about the exact paynt and even the letter only said that the paynt will be ’plenty’.
As soon as Han Yu saw the shiny coins in the pouch, his eyes lit up.
"One, five, ten... Thirty?!" Han Yu was stunned.
He had certainly not expected to get more here than his scummy bet from yesterday. He had now increased his wealth to fifty gold coins. It was a massive amount for him, one that he would have never even dread of before.
Han Yu quickly hid the pouch in his robes in the fear that soone might try to snatch it.
’I shouldn’t stay here any longer.’ He thought.
But as he turned to leave, he heard a whisper from another masked cultivator: "That was the Sock Prophet, right? He fights like a rabid goose with a grudge."
Han Yu gave a thumbs-up without turning. "Damn right I do."
Back at the Sect, the Next Day
Han Yu stumbled back into his quarters just after sunrise. Clothes tattered, hair singed, reeking faintly of cabbage and mild trauma.
’Ugh, why is the arena so far? It took more ti to walk back than it took in the fight.’ Han Yu grumbled.
He collapsed onto his bed face-first.
Monts later, a knock.
"NO," he groaned into the new mattress.
"It’s ," ca Li i’s voice. "I heard sothing about a butcher, a stink bomb, and your foot in soone’s kidneys. Did you go to an underground fight club without ?"
Han Yu rolled over and cracked open an eye. "Technically, yes. Spiritually? I was very much not present."
"You realize this ans we have to test more throwing pills now," Li i grinned, stepping inside with a new basket labeled ’Experintal: Do Not Juggle’.
Han Yu groaned. "Please... let sleep for six years first."
"Fine, but I’m putting in a requisition to reserve you for pill testing again tonight."
Han Yu stared at the ceiling and mumbled, "I am the sock stealer. Not the punch sponge."
User Comments
0 comments from readers