A hundred thousand spectators stared down from the stone stands. Ten million live viewers watched through the floating spirit-cameras. Down by the cabbage patch, Xiao Huo knew that a single second of hesitation would ruin his righteous hero mask forever.
He forced the panic out of his eyes and lowered his bent black broadsword toward the flagstones.
“Grandmaster Huo! Fellow citizens!” Xiao Huo called out.
He pressed a hand over his chest, his voice ringing with earnest candor. “I bought that Ice-Marrow Lotus three years ago from a masked peddler in the Black-Wind Mountains! I had no idea it carried Grandmaster Huo’s seal. And I certainly never knew it belonged to little brother Ming!”
He bowed toward the Nalan family box, looking every inch the wronged gentleman.
“If that peddler sold me stolen medicine,” Xiao Huo declared, “then I am willing to crippled half my cultivation right now to return the lotus energy to the boy!”
In the stands, his die-hard supporters clung to that excuse like a lifeline.
“See? I knew Young Hero Xiao wouldn’t steal from a five-year-old!”
