The bronze tournament bell rang for the second match, but the sound was hollow against the stone stadium walls.
Ten thousand spectators in the granite stands craned their necks. After seeing Wang Ba knocked into the VIP box with a broom, nobody knew what to expect.
In Ring Number Two, Captain Liu Ruolan stepped onto the gray granite stage. Her new right arm flexed with effortless grace, holding a stainless steel thermos filled with Grandma Chen’s ginger-pear soup.
Her opponent was a twenty-two-year-old prodigy from the Gale Sect named Feng Lang. He carried twin curved wind-daggers, dressed in fluttering green silk robes.
Feng Lang took one look at Liu Ruolan’s dark gray Aegis battle-suit, then at the smoking rubble of Ring Number One where Wang Ba had been launched into the VIP box.
Feng Lang’s knees twitched under his silk hem. “Senior Sister Liu... you were an outer disciple yesterday.”
“Yesterday I worked without protective gear,” Liu Ruolan replied calmly, taking a slow sip from her thermos. “Today I have dental insurance and equipment subsidies. Are you ready?”
Feng Lang gritted his teeth, his face reddening with wounded pride. “Don’t look down on me!”
