Chapter Forty-Seven: The Battle for Supremacy Begins (Part Two)

At this moment, the square arena was surrounded by crowds, with many medium and small families rushing over; after all, the outcome would determine which between the Meng and Zhang families would become the future city lord.

“Everyone, according to the longstanding rules of Sky Mist City, any family with a Mystic Lord may participate in the city lord contest. Now that Elder Meng has broken through to the Mystic Lord realm, the Meng family naturally qualifies. As city lord, I must abide by the traditions of Sky Mist City, so today I have set up this arena. My City Lord’s Mansion and the younger generation of the Meng family will compete. The loser will withdraw from Sky Mist City and never return,” Zhang Ren stood, pressing his hands down to quiet the crowd, and spoke calmly.

In truth, the latter condition was entirely Zhang Ren’s addition. With Zhang Yuanqin’s approval, the Meng family had no hope of victory; it was the perfect opportunity to expel them from Sky Mist City once and for all.

Meng Lei grew anxious upon hearing this—his family had never agreed to leaving the city if defeated. He quickly looked to Elder Meng, “Father, this…”

Elder Meng waved his hand, “No matter.”

At that moment, Zhang Ren signaled to the contestant standing beside Zhang Mang.

The man nodded slightly, then pushed off the ground, flipping forward to land steadily on the arena. He looked toward Lu Han and his companions, “Please.”

His eyes betrayed undisguised contempt.

“I’ll go first,” Meng Hao gritted his teeth; among the three, he was the weakest.

As he moved, Meng Liangchen suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder, “Meng Hao, don’t push yourself too hard. Do your best.”

“Don’t worry, Young Master.”

“I will fight you,” Meng Hao was only at the seventh layer of the Post-Heaven realm, but he showed no sign of weakness. Like a great roc spreading its wings, he landed firmly on the arena.

“Ahem, ahem.” An elderly man tottered onto the platform.

“Ah, that’s Elder Guo!”

“Elder Guo is known for his fairness and has great prestige in the city. He’s the perfect choice for referee.”

“Everyone, quiet please. This contest concerns our city’s future leadership. I, an old man, recommend myself as referee. Now, let me announce the rules. If you fall off the arena, you lose. No killing allowed. If your opponent concedes, you must not attack further. If anyone violates these rules, do not blame me for being unkind.” After speaking, he released a powerful aura of the sixth layer of the Innate realm.

“All right, the contest begins now.”

As the two faced off, murmurs spread among the crowd.

“A seventh layer Post-Heaven realm against an eighth layer? He stands no chance.”

“Exactly. The City Lord’s Mansion is exploiting a loophole—claiming these two are merely in-laws. I think—”

“Shh, watch your tongue.”

The opponent glanced at Meng Hao, not rushing to attack. He crooked his finger.

“Kill.”

Meng Hao clenched his fists and charged.

The man twisted his neck, inner force surging in his hand, bursting forth like an arrow.

“Bang!”

Their fists collided.

Thump, thump, thump…

Meng Hao was forced back several steps.

The opponent showed no mercy, charging again.

“Bang, bang, bang!”

Strong gusts and sharp sounds of wind echoed across the arena.

Spectators below sighed, “Meng Hao is impressive; if his cultivation reached the eighth layer, he might stand a chance.”

Now, Meng Hao was gradually falling behind.

His opponent looked at him, a ferocious glint in his eyes, then suddenly switched his fist technique.

“I’ve played with you long enough—die!”

A harsh shout echoed within, “Mountain-Splitting Palm!”

A surge of earth-yellow light burst from his hand, aimed at Meng Hao’s head—a killing strike, his prized technique at high-grade Yellow level.

Meng Hao, suppressed throughout, failed to react.

Elder Meng noticed the danger, “Meng Hao, concede!”

“I concede!” Meng Hao hurriedly shouted.

His opponent pretended not to hear, palm descending, about to strike Meng Hao’s forehead. Meng Hao closed his eyes, resigned.

“Young man, it seems you haven’t taken my words seriously,” a hoarse voice sounded.

Meng Hao, expecting death, opened his eyes in surprise.

The opponent’s palm was less than a centimeter from Meng Hao’s forehead, caught by an aged hand. The man tried to pull free, but the elder’s grip was like iron pincers.

“Elder Guo, the arena is intense—sometimes one might not hear clearly,” the city lord interjected.

This remark drew rolled eyes from the crowd. Meng Hao had shouted clearly; everyone below had heard—how could he not have?

“Hmph.”

Elder Guo released the man’s hand and flicked his sleeve, “Let this be the last time. Even if you belong to the city lord, you must not break my rules.”

The man rubbed his arm where it had been caught, not daring to protest, and respectfully nodded.

“The victor remains on the arena. Next, a challenger from the Meng family,” Elder Guo said calmly.

Lu Han prepared to step forward, but Meng Liangchen stopped him.

“Cousin Han, I know your strength. You’ve already injured Duan Jiang from the City Lord’s Mansion. If before I had seventy percent confidence to defeat Zhang Mang, now that he’s broken through to the ninth layer, I barely have thirty percent. I can only try to handle the other two—Zhang Mang is up to you!” With that, he stepped onto the arena.

In fact, Elder Meng had chosen this battle format based on Meng Liangchen’s account of Lu Han injuring Duan Jiang in Wind Song Valley.

When Zhang Ren proposed the duel, he suspected Zhang Mang had broken through.

If Meng Liangchen and Zhang Mang fought one-on-one, Meng Liangchen’s odds of winning were pitifully small.

He himself wasn’t entirely convinced Lu Han could injure Duan Jiang across realms.

But now, the whole city knew; there was no choice but to fight. He had to gamble—bet that Lu Han was as Meng Liangchen claimed, able to injure Duan Jiang across realms.

At this point, Elder Meng could only choose to believe—to trust his grandson, to trust his grandson-in-law.

“Why is Meng Liangchen fighting?”

“Has the Meng family given up?”

“It makes sense. Zhang Mang is already at the ninth layer; the Meng family is doomed.”

The crowd murmured below.

“Hmm, what is the Meng family up to? Are they betting everything on that Lu Han?” Zhang Ren squinted.

Lu Han’s aura only suggested the eighth layer of the Post-Heaven realm.

“From what cousin says, he plans to defeat those two at the eighth layer,” Lu Han muttered, touching his nose.

“Your cousin, at eighteen, inherited the legacy of a Mystic Lord. That’s how he earned the title of Sky Mist City’s greatest talent. Among peers, he has few rivals; defeating those two shouldn’t be hard, but his odds against Zhang Mang, who’s a realm higher, are slim,” Elder Meng appeared behind Lu Han at some point.

“Han, Liangchen has told me about Wind Song Valley. Do you have confidence against Zhang Mang?” Elder Meng was still worried—he wanted to confirm firsthand.

“Grandfather, if he just broke through to the ninth layer, I should be fine.”

“Old as I am, I can’t see through you anymore. Who knows what you’ve experienced, to be so confident against a ninth-layer opponent,” Elder Meng sighed. He knew everyone had their own opportunities and didn’t ask further, just as Meng Liangchen had inherited the Mystic Lord’s legacy.

Meng Liangchen, true to his reputation, summoned green wood-colored inner force, tracing an arc through the air and striking his opponent fiercely.

He went all out from the start.

The opponent remained composed, blocking all of Meng Liangchen’s attacks, but it was clear to discerning eyes that Meng Liangchen had gained the upper hand.

The crowd watched closely, among them many young women from various families. Seeing Meng Liangchen on the arena, they shrieked with excitement.

Meng Liangchen was acclaimed as Sky Mist City’s top talent, the young master of the Meng family, dignified and handsome—a dream suitor for many noble daughters.

Outside the ring, Qi Lingxuan puffed her cheeks as she witnessed the scene.

Suddenly, Meng Liangchen unleashed a fierce barrage of attacks like a storm, finally moving as swiftly as lightning to his opponent’s back and landing a powerful blow. The man was thrown out of the arena, blood spilling from his lips, his face twisted with unwillingness.

“Meng Liangchen, victory,” Elder Guo announced calmly.

“The next round, continue.”

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