Chapter 053: Martial Arts Tournament for Marriage

Even the martial artists nearby who were unscathed began to feel a sense of respect for Fang Xian. After all, they all lived by the blade—who among them had never been wounded? If they could befriend Fang Xian, injuries would no longer be a cause for fear.

"Mr. Fang, you are a man of rare virtue. If you ever need anything from Han Sanpang, just ask."

"I am indebted to you, Mr. Fang. Allow me, Liu, to repay this favor one day."

"Thanks to Mr. Fang's treatment today, I, Tian, have been spared the loss of an arm. From now on, my life belongs to you."

On the stage, one after another, first-class experts stepped up to duel. Some were beaten down, some kicked off, some struck or thrown out, while others withdrew due to injuries. The scene was lively beyond measure.

In a corner beneath the stage, Fang Xian watched the matches, mingling and chatting with the various heroes from the mountain strongholds, while waiting for injured fighters to come to him for treatment.

By now, nearly every martial artist around the stage knew that there was a certain Mr. Fang Mingda whose medical skills were extraordinary and whose sense of brotherhood was unmatched. He treated all the wounded nearby for free. Anyone treated by him soon felt their pain ease and their injuries come under control; minor wounds became negligible, and even serious injuries were reduced to minor ones. His skill was superb, his character exemplary, earning universal admiration.

Fang Xian, meanwhile, wore a constant smile, for his reputation points were rising rapidly. With more than a thousand people present, he had already gained over three hundred reputation points, and at this rate, it was not impossible that he'd accumulate more than a thousand before the day was done.

From afternoon until dusk, nearly all the first-class experts from the various strongholds had taken their turns, including Zhou Zhihua from Flying Phoenix Ridge, as well as Liu Erleng and Zhao Banqian, who had accompanied Fang Xian and represented Flying Phoenix Ridge on the stage.

With three first-class experts in succession, Flying Phoenix Ridge drew the attention of all the other mountain strongholds. Their top contender, Feng Ling, hadn't even appeared yet, and already three masters had taken the stage. The strength of Flying Phoenix Ridge was now a focus, even for the three great strongholds.

"Watching you all compete back and forth like this is getting a bit dull." At that moment, Zhu Shimei suddenly stood up, laughing coquettishly as she leapt onto the stage.

"Wow, the chief's younger sister is entering the fray!"

"Zhu Shimei is so beautiful. I wonder which man will have the fortune to marry her?"

"This is going to be good!"

"I wonder if Master Feng will take the stage? If those two face off, now that would be a show worth watching."

As Zhu Shimei mounted the stage, the stronghold master with three consecutive victories grew anxious. He had hoped for five straight wins to claim the ten thousand taels of silver, but now it was clear that dream was over.

"I’ve heard that Miss Zhu is a disciple of the Daoist Sect. I know I’m no match for you, but I'd like to broaden my horizons and witness the Daoist Sect’s supreme techniques. Please, Miss Zhu, grant me the honor," he said, stringing together a few polite words.

"Enough talk. Take this!" Zhu Shimei, though young, was straightforward and disliked beating around the bush. She flew forward, launching an attack with the Daoist Sect’s supreme inner art—the Sublime True Supreme Method.

With a thunderous sound, Zhu Shimei's figure abruptly vanished, and several images of her appeared on the stage. The watching martial artists couldn't discern which was her true body. By the time her form rejoined into one, her opponent had already been cleanly kicked off the stage.

"The Daoist Sect’s supreme skills are truly worthy of their reputation. I concede, utterly convinced," the man said, stunned, and quickly clasped his hands in salute.

Zhu Shimei waved carelessly and, challenging the crowd of heroes, called out, "Is there anyone else who wants to give it a try?"

"Miss Zhu is a top disciple of the Daoist Sect. I doubt any of the first-class experts here would dare challenge you."

"Who among us would risk offending Miss Zhu? We're simply no match."

"Why not invite Master Feng to face Miss Zhu? That would be a duel worth seeing," someone jeered.

"Sister Feng, why don't you spar with me?" Zhu Shimei’s eyes lit up, and she smiled sweetly at Feng Ling.

"I shouldn't bully someone younger, but some people are just too lazy. Unless you give them a little motivation, they won’t make a move," Feng Ling replied with a shake of her head, glancing meaningfully at Fang Xian.

Zhu Shimei, suddenly enlightened, turned to the surrounding martial artists and proclaimed loudly, "Hear me, all! Anyone who can withstand ten moves under my hands will receive a thousand taels of silver. And if any man under thirty defeats me, I’ll marry him!"

Everyone on the platform was stunned, including Zhu Jiuchong, whose face darkened. He hadn't expected Zhu Shimei to propose a martial contest for a husband on the spot, but the words were out and couldn’t be taken back.

The crowd of martial artists erupted in cheers. Although many first-class experts were over thirty and had no chance to marry Zhu Shimei, if they could survive ten moves against her, they could earn a thousand taels of silver—a tempting prospect for many.

"Miss Zhu, allow this old man to try his luck for some silver," called an old man in his sixties as he leapt onto the stage. He hadn’t competed earlier, feeling his skills surpassed those of the average first-class expert and disdaining to fight them.

In fact, among these stronghold chiefs, though there were many first-class experts, most were over forty, having slowly ground their way to such a level over decades, just like Zhou Boxiong and Huang Yuantao.

They had long since abandoned hope of reaching the realm of grandmaster, so they immersed themselves in martial arts at the first-class level, some even inventing their own killer techniques, making a name for themselves among their peers.

This old man was such a figure. His name was Wang Fuqing, and he had been a first-class expert for nearly twenty years. Though he had no hope of becoming a grandmaster, he had developed a formidable lightness skill, which now gave him the confidence to step onto the stage.

"If you want silver, show me what you can do," Zhu Shimei nodded, then pounced forward. But Wang Fuqing had no intention of meeting her head-on; his body flickered and moved several meters to the side, planning to dodge for ten moves to win the wager.

"Your lightness skill is impressive, old sir, but you can’t dodge forever," Zhu Shimei smiled, flashing after him, her form multiplying into several images scattered across the stage.

No matter which direction Wang Fuqing fled, he risked running into one of Zhu Shimei’s apparitions, or passing close by. Gritting his teeth, he decided to gamble on luck and dashed to the side.

But whether by ill fortune or fate, the image he encountered happened to be Zhu Shimei’s true form. She launched an attack, forcing him onto the defensive. He had lost the upper hand; his strategy of evasion failed, and he had no choice but to fight back with all his remaining strength. Yet, after only two or three moves, he was driven off the stage by Zhu Shimei.

"Miss Zhu, your Daoist Sect skills are unrivaled. I concede," Wang Fuqing said, his old face flushing. He had hoped to earn some silver but ended up losing face instead.

Just then, while Zhu Shimei was still facing that direction, a burly man suddenly leapt onto the stage from behind, unleashed a furious howl, and launched a tempestuous attack, hoping to catch her off guard and seize the advantage.

Yet Zhu Shimei stood motionless. When his assault reached her, her figure dissipated, and her true self appeared on the other side of the stage.

"Miss Zhu, when did you run behind me?" The burly man, finding no one before him, turned and stared blankly, then, without waiting for her to reply, glanced around and leapt off the stage, giving up.

After that, more than a dozen people took turns challenging Zhu Shimei. Each was a first-class expert with his own specialty, hoping to last ten moves and earn some silver, but none succeeded.

"Are there any real men among you? Not a single one of you is up to the mark! You—Fang Mingda, why don’t you come up here?" Zhu Shimei scolded the surrounding heroes, finally pointing directly at Fang Xian and challenging him.

"I have no need for that bit of silver, and I already have a woman. What’s the point of dueling you?" Fang Xian replied with a shake of his head.

"Then what is it you desire most?" Zhu Shimei asked, puzzled.