“The victor is Zhao Tiehe of Three Mountains City!”

The referee’s announcement finally landed, and almost simultaneously, Zhao Tiehe’s figure, having thrown a mighty punch, crashed to the ground.

His injuries were actually far more severe than Lin Zhengli’s, and his stamina had long reached its limit. He had thrown that final punch entirely on willpower.

Now, he collapsed, sprawled on his back.

Lin Zhengli, beside him, had been practically hammered into the ground by that punch and was already unconscious.

The arena was a scene of devastation – shattered rocks, broken vines, gaping craters, splashing water, and bloodstains, a truly ravaged landscape.

Only then did the applause from the sidelines begin to rise.

At first, it was sparse and scattered since neither combatant was a local, but it quickly swelled into a resounding roar.

This fight had been too spectacular, and it had made everyone recognize the tenacity of the Three Mountains City cultivators.

They admired Zhao Tiehe and, by extension, revised their perceptions of the territory he represented. Perhaps this was the very thing they had wanted to prove by fighting to the death.

They were born in a barren land, in mountains teeming with ferocious beasts, but they were not mere barbarians. They had their own loves and hates, their own pursuits, their own… honor.

“It wasn’t easy,” Linghe said, his hands red from clapping. He was perhaps the only one present who had never referred to the Three Mountains City cultivators with the derogatory term “mountain bumpkins.”

Because he understood what it felt like to be looked down upon, he never belittled others.

Zhao Rucheng, however, was focused on a different matter. “With those two beaten to a pulp, Third Brother gets a win by default!”

Huang Azhan was already calculating. “A win gets ten Dao merits, and with these two fights, he wins without even fighting. The first place in the one-year-old group at the Three Cities Tournament earns double Dao merit rewards. That adds up to… fifty Dao merits! He has to treat us!”

If it weren’t for Jiang An’an’s presence, he probably would have blurted out the name of the “Three Fragrances Pavilion.”

“What are Dao merits? Are they valuable?” Jiang An’an asked curiously.

“Indeed,” Zhao Rucheng, already familiar with Jiang An’an’s “debt repayment” story, teased her. “One Dao merit is worth more than that entire chest of treasures you earned!”

Jiang An’an counted on her fingers, her expression serious, then spread her arms wide, drawing a large circle in the air. “Wow, that’s really a lot!”

…

After the first round of the gauntlet, there was only a brief recovery period. This was hardly fair to Zhao Tiehe, who had just endured a brutal battle, but that was the rule.

After repeated inquiries from the referee, Zhao Tiehe still shakily stood his ground, determined to fight on.

Jiang Wang stood opposite him, his hand resting on his sword hilt, his gaze steady.

“Step down,” Sun Xiaoman said.

She looked like a little girl, and her voice sounded like one too, but Zhao Tiehe couldn’t ignore her words.

He turned to her, saying, “I still have one life to fight with.”

His tone wasn’t impassioned but calm, as he stated a simple fact.

Jiang Wang was no weakling. He had defeated Yang Xingyong head-on and was currently in peak condition.

At this moment, he truly had nothing left to gamble with but his life.

“Your life is important. Three Mountains City needs you,” Sun Xiaoman said earnestly. “We allowed you to risk your life before because you still had a chance. We can’t allow it now, because that chance is gone. You have a lot of resources invested in you. Your life can’t be wasted.”

It was unclear which of her words convinced him. Zhao Tiehe turned and hobbled off the stage.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but as he turned, Jiang Wang thought he saw a fleeting glint of tears in his eyes.

Could such a man truly shed tears?

Jiang Wang couldn’t comprehend the Three Mountains City cultivators’ near-obsessive concern with victory and defeat.

He had already done his best, so why would he be saddened for his inability to fight to the death?

Bearing these questions, Jiang Wang faced the third round of the gauntlet. Since Lin Zhengli was still unconscious, Lin Zhengren once again conceded the match in his place.

And so, Jiang Wang became the first place winner of the Three Cities Tournament’s one-year-old group. Due to his opponents’ injuries, the victory didn’t feel particularly convincing, but…

“Who cares! Dao merits in hand are what matters,” Zhao Rucheng declared.

By this point, Jiang Wang had retreated to the sidelines and joined Linghe and the others as a spectator.

The Maple Leaf City citizens were quite generous to those who brought them glory, clearing a space for Jiang Wang to rest.

Jiang An’an and that arrogant little girl were sitting in the front row, while Jiang Wang and the others sat behind them, chatting idly.

The only thing that surprised Jiang Wang was that the cloud carpet they were sitting on didn’t belong to Zhao Rucheng. Rather, it was brought by the old man who had accompanied the little girl, Qingzhi.

The cloud carpet was incredibly light and soft, a luxury that ordinary families couldn’t afford. Yet Qingzhi’s family had brought such a large one to use as a ground mat.

Jiang Wang could only lament that in the world of the wealthy, there was always a higher mountain to climb.

He thought of his own upbringing. His family had land and shops, enough to live comfortably, but ever since he met Zhao Rucheng, he often felt like a beggar.

The hunchbacked old man sized up Jiang Wang, then suddenly spoke, “I didn’t expect you to return the chest of treasures. Young friend Jiang, you’ve taught your sister well.”

The old man’s voice was kind, but it was hard to take seriously considering his shifty appearance.

Jiang Wang wasn’t one to judge by appearances, so he replied politely, “It was the right thing to do. It was just childish banter; we couldn’t take it seriously.”

“Confucius said, ‘Wealth and rank attained through unrighteousness are like fleeting clouds to me.’ Young friend Jiang’s words show a Confucian spirit.”

To discuss Confucianism with a Daoist disciple in the State of Zhuang, this hunchbacked old man must have rattled his brains with too much book learning.

Jiang Wang chuckled vaguely and said, “The match has started.”

…

The Three Cities Tournament had divisions for one-year-old, three-year-old, and five-year-old disciples, but the rules were generally the same.

Li Jianqiu and Wang Changxiang entered the arena simultaneously, and the three matches began at the same time.

Jiang Wang focused intently, observing the entire scene.

Li Jianqiu’s opponent was from Three Mountains City, and their duel was extremely impressive. Both displayed remarkable Dao spell control, trading blows and engaging in a lengthy battle before Li Jianqiu finally defeated his opponent with fire-element Dao magic.

Wang Changxiang’s battle against the River Gazing City cultivator was comparatively straightforward. At the start of the fight, he summoned a mist with his Dao magic, obscuring his opponent’s vision. Then, with calm hand seals, he unleashed a Gale Vortex Breath, sweeping his opponent into the sky.

A top-grade Dao spell like Gale Vortex Breath was nearly impossible to counter at this level of combat. Jiang Wang remembered that back in Small Forest Town, Wang Changxiang would have been drained by a single Gale Vortex Breath. He had wondered if Wang Changxiang would abandon the later fights.

But after the battle, Wang Changxiang immediately pulled out a Dao source stone and began to absorb energy…

Clearly, the Wang family had invested heavily, determined to seize the top spot in the three-year-old division.

But the most anticipated match for the Maple Leaf City citizens was still that of the mysterious, black-robed cultivator from Three Mountains City.

When the black robe was removed, revealing a pleasantly plump little fatty, the watching Maple Leaf City residents simultaneously sighed in disappointment.

In their minds, the black robe should have concealed a scarred, demonic figure, or at least someone with a menacing appearance. It certainly shouldn’t have been someone who looked so easy to bully.

However, he didn’t disappoint them completely. This little fatty was strong!

From the very beginning, perhaps because his teammates had been losing consecutively, the three-year-old disciple from River Gazing City went all-out.

He led with five Water Cones, deviously concealing Wind Blades between them.

Next came Earth Spikes, and finally, he prepared to cast Raging Wave.

Using wind, water, and earth element Dao magic in a seamless series of attacks was dazzling to watch.

But the little fatty from Three Mountains City only did one thing from beginning to end – charge.

He charged forward mindlessly, practically plowing through the barrage of Dao magic.

He charged until he reached his opponent.

Then, he raised his fist and brought it crashing down.

The battle was over.

The little fatty’s clothes were tattered with holes, but the exposed fat on his body was still rosy and smooth.

His opponent, however, was already on the ground.

Everyone was stunned.

“His physical defense is too strong!” Linghe exclaimed.

“Is he a pure martial artist?”

“No, that final punch was Crushing Stone Fist. He used Dao magic.”

“But there were no signs of Stone Skin or anything like that. How can his defense be so strong?”

The young men, after all, were still inexperienced and didn’t know much. They discussed it for a long time but couldn’t figure it out.

“It’s a Kun Leather Drum, a permanently solidified Dao spell,” the hunchbacked old man, who had been listening to them for a while, suddenly said softly.

But he refused to reveal any further information about this Dao spell.