Chapter 161: Chapter 160: Brutality, Undercurrent, Patrolling Evil Soul
"Wusheng Boxing Hall! Where are the people from Wusheng Boxing Hall?!"
In the public waiting area, a man with a blue armband strode into the noisy, makeshift shelter and shouted at the top of his lungs.
In a corner, Ye Zhenren and his disciples had just finished packing their things to leave when they heard the shout and froze.
It wasn’t until the man had shouted several more times that they realized he was calling for them and hurriedly pushed through the crowd to meet him.
"Excuse me, sir, what business do you have with our Wusheng Boxing Hall?"
The man with the blue armband glanced at them. "You’re from Wusheng Boxing Hall?"
Ye Zhenren nodded politely.
"I’m here to inform you that your hall’s Liu Songyang has advanced directly to the finals. Don’t go wandering off for the next few days. We’ll notify you about the drawing and schedule later..."
As soon as the man with the blue armband finished speaking, everyone from Wusheng Boxing Hall was stunned, but the surrounding onlookers instantly erupted!
ROAR—
"What? He’s in the finals already? Aren’t the preliminary rounds still going on?"
"I just saw that kid lose a match!"
"It’s fixed! This is definitely fixed! I’m going to report it to the Association!"
"What’s all the shouting?! What’s all the shouting?!"
Hearing the indignant cries all around him, the man with the blue armband roared impatiently, instantly silencing the commotion.
"Sir, there must be some mistake..."
At this point, Ye Zhenren also stepped forward, an embarrassed look on his face as he spoke. "My disciple, Liu Songyang, was just eliminated. How could he suddenly be in the finals?"
The Martial Arts Association had a rule this time: only those under thirty-five could register. Of everyone in the Wusheng Martial Arts Hall, Liu Songyang, Ye Zhenren’s earliest disciple, was the only one who met the age requirement and had decent enough skill.
Unfortunately, his luck was bad. He ran into a powerful opponent in the first preliminary round and was knocked out.
"You’re Ye Zhenren, your disciple is Liu Songyang, and you registered under the name of Wusheng Boxing Hall, correct?"
"Correct."
Seeing Ye Zhenren nod, the man with the blue armband smiled, then took two steps closer and said in a low, meaningful tone, "Then there’s no mistake at all.
See that main platform over there? A big shot up there personally named someone from your Wusheng Boxing Hall as a ’seed competitor.’ He doesn’t need to participate in the preliminary or secondary rounds and goes straight to the finals.
Since he’s advancing directly, his previous results are naturally void... Oh, right."
The man with the blue armband clasped his fists toward Ye Zhenren and smiled. "We’ve also arranged a private resting room for you, with tea and snacks all prepared.
Master Ye, don’t just stand there. Hurry and take your disciples over."
After speaking, he ignored the still-dazed Ye Zhenren, turned to the crowd, and his expression darkened. "Who was just shouting about this being fixed and wanting to file a report?
Step forward! I’ll disqualify you from the competition right now!"
The crowd scattered like startled sparrows, leaving only the members of Wusheng Boxing Hall staring at each other in dismay.
After a moment of silence, a voice slowly spoke up. "I knew it... that person on the platform... it’s Senior Brother... Senior Brother Fu, isn’t it?"
"It must be Senior Brother Fu helping us!!"
As soon as this was said, the group of youths erupted in excitement, all talking at once. Every other word was "Senior Brother Fu," and their faces were beaming.
Seeing the jubilant expressions on his disciples’ faces, Ye Zhenren’s heart was filled with a mix of complicated emotions.
A part of him wanted to scold them, and an even bigger part wanted to chase after the man with the blue armband to reject the qualification. But then he remembered what a certain someone had once told him in a nonchalant tone—"From now on, when it comes to Fist Techniques, I’ll listen to you. But for everything outside of Fist Techniques, you’ll listen to me."
After hesitating again and again, he could only shake his head with a wry smile.
"Since this is a kind gesture from Lingjun, we should just... accept it.
When the finals come, fight well. Try not to... not to bring shame to your Senior Brother Lingjun."
Ye Zhenren’s words came out with some difficulty. Fortunately, his eldest disciple, Liu Songyang, whom he had always treated like a son, was mature and sensible. He offered no objections, simply nodding silently in agreement.
Ye Zhenren led his disciples through the crowd, feeling the gazes from all directions—shock, jealousy, envy, disdain—pricking his back like needles.
He had always been one to follow the rules, afraid of offending people. Even after becoming part of a Tongxuan Martial Family, he had always lived cautiously.
But as fate would have it, he had taken on a disciple who was the complete opposite—the most unruly, the most unafraid of offending people.
’Is this a good thing or a bad thing?’ Ye Zhenren wondered.
But no matter what, he was a good disciple: powerful, with great Talent, respectful of his master and elders, and he knew how to look out for his fellow disciples.
It was just that... the methods and means he used were always a bit crude.
* * *
Meanwhile, on the other side of the venue, a martial bout had just concluded.
A lean man in his thirties clasped his fist toward his opponent, who lay collapsed on the ground not far away, having been knocked out of bounds. "Thank you for the match," he said, before calmly turning and walking off the stage.
The surrounding spectators all cast looks of apprehension and awe at the man; no one dared to look down on him in the slightest because of his tattered clothes.
"Dad!"
As soon as he stepped off the stage, a seven- or eight-year-old boy rushed up to him, jumping with joy, his eyes shining with excitement. "You won again! This guy was even more useless than the last one. He couldn’t even take a single one of your moves."
The boy started mimicking the man’s moves from the stage as he spoke.
A faint smile appeared on the man’s icy face as he reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair.
"Oh yeah, Dad, look!"
After finishing his imitation, the boy suddenly grabbed the man’s hand and pointed to a person on the distant main platform, his eyes shining. "Isn’t that the Young Master we saw last time? Remember, Dad? I snuck over to touch his carriage, and you beat up his men, but he didn’t hold it against us...
He’s so impressive, sitting in the highest, most central seat, and everyone is so respectful to him..."
The man looked up and quickly saw the person the boy was pointing to. Thinking of what had happened before, his gaze flickered. Just as he was about to lower his head and say something to the boy, a voice came from behind him.
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