55: Chapter 55 The Bet of the Twelve Zodiac Animals

Zhao Hu raised his teacup and took a sip, deciding not to bring up the subject again.

The atmosphere in the hall relaxed a little.

Zhao Hu set down his teacup. "Come to think of it, quite a few people around here used to make fun of you."

"They said Chen Long was majestic his whole life, only to end up with a useless son."

"Well, look at us now, getting slapped in the face by that 'useless' kid."

Wang Dashan chuckled, but he didn't respond.

At that moment, a gentle voice chimed in.

"Alright, there's no need to dwell on the past."

The speaker was another man sitting across from Wang Dashan.

He was one of the Twelve Zodiacs, Zhang Qiming, codenamed "Wei Yang."

"I'm actually quite curious about the competition in three days. Who do you think will win?"

Zhao Hu waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter who wins. Two mercenary groups fighting—it's just small fry playing house. What's the point?"

"I do want to see that kid from Chen Long's family get up there and put on a show, though."

Zhang Qiming adjusted his glasses and analyzed the situation rationally. "For a competition of this level, they'll send at least a Level 5 fighter."

"Chen Long's son is only Level 2, so he probably won't participate."

"With a three-level gap, going up there is just suicide."

"That's not necessarily true," Wang Dashan suddenly interjected.

"When I was Level 2 back in the day, I killed a Level 5 fighter too."

Zhao Hu nearly spat out his tea, laughing so hard he doubled over.

"Chen Long, can you stop bringing up that nonsense of yours?"

"That Level 5 guy was already gravely injured and lying on the ground, unable to move. You went up and delivered the finishing blow, and suddenly it became a 'Level 2 killing a Level 5'?"

"If I hadn't had someone look into it back then, you would've fooled everyone for the rest of your life!"

Wang Dashan remained unperturbed. "Just tell me, was it a Level 2 killing a Level 5 or not?"

Zhao Hu's laughter caught in his throat, and he couldn't find a word to say for a long while.

"Sophistry," Zhao Hu snorted irritably.

Zhang Qiming sat to the side, smiling without a word.

You can't reason with a man like Chen Long; he'll always have his own logic.

Zhao Hu set his teacup down, his eyes darting around as he suddenly grew interested.

"Let's put it this way: if Wang Lin manages to get on the stage and beats that Level 5 fighter, I'll eat the Arena right there on the spot."

"How about it? Do we have a bet? The stakes are me eating the Arena."

He spoke with absolute confidence.

A Level 2 fighting a Level 5 isn't a fight; it's suicide.

This was a guaranteed win.

Wang Dashan thought about it for a moment, then finally sighed.

"Forget it, I won't take the bet. It's not even certain if the kid will participate."

Just as Zhao Hu was about to mock him for chickening out, Zhang Qiming spoke up first.

"A bet? How could we not take that bet?" Zhang Qiming adjusted his glasses.

"If you won't take it, I will. I visit your place every New Year and give that kid a red envelope."

"The way he calls me 'Uncle Zhang' every time really warms my heart."

"Even if it's a guaranteed loss, we can't lose our spirit."

Zhao Hu burst into laughter. "Old Goat, you said it yourself!"

"I'm not forcing you! Don't blame me when you lose!"

"Everyone says you're prone to bouts of madness, haha, I didn't expect you to lose your mind right now."

Zhang Qiming calmly picked up his teacup. "It's just eating an Arena, isn't it? My teeth are good, so rest assured, I won't go back on my word."

Zhao Hu laughed even louder, the sound making the window frames hum.

...

Three days later, Wang Lin walked out of the inn and headed toward the Arena in the center of the camp.

He was in a foul mood.

Over the past three days, he had absorbed all the crystals, not a single one left.

He had thought he would successfully reach Level 3, but reality had slapped him hard in the face.

No, he couldn't say he hadn't gained anything at all.

He could feel that his strength was significantly greater than it had been three days ago.

He could even faintly touch that barrier, a barrier as thin as paper, yet one he couldn't break through.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his irritation, and looked ahead.

Many people were already rushing down the street in the same direction.

They moved in twos and threes, whispering to each other, their faces filled with excitement.

The Arena match between Dark Blade and Blood Fang had spread throughout the camp three days ago, becoming the biggest topic of conversation for everyone.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, the street ahead suddenly opened up.

A massive circular building appeared at the end of his line of sight—that was the Arena.

Or, to be precise, the Arena.

It was said that this Arena had been built when the camp was first established, so it had at least a few decades of history.

The interior of the Arena was even larger than he had imagined.

The entire venue was a perfect circle, surrounded by tiers of rising stone stands that could easily accommodate three or four thousand people.

The stands were divided into two levels; the lower level consisted of ordinary stone benches, while the upper level featured a ring of elevated boxes reserved for the camp's prominent figures.

And right in the center of the venue was the ring.

The ring was raised about half a meter above the ground, with no railings or ropes around the edge.

This meant that once you stepped onto the ring, there was nothing to rely on; you would either walk out on your own feet or be carried out lying down.

Wang Lin gave his name. The guard at the entrance paused, looked him up and down, then stepped aside to clear the way.

The passage wasn't long, but walking through it gave him an indescribable sense of oppression.

As Wang Lin exited the passage, the light suddenly intensified.

The surrounding stands were packed with people, surging like a colony of ants.

He didn't know who had noticed him first.

Whispers started from a corner of the stands and spread like ripples, growing louder and louder with every passing moment.

"Look! That's Wang Lin!"

"Which one? The guy in the dark clothes?"

"Yeah, that's him! He's the one who caused Dark Blade and Blood Fang to fight!"

"He's so young? Looks like he's only seventeen or eighteen..."

"I heard he's only Level 2. A Level 2 kid, and he's got two major mercenary groups fighting to the death over him. Tsk, tsk..."

"What on earth does the Dark Blade commander see in him?"

"Who knows? Maybe he has some extraordinary talent..."

"What talent? What kind of talent can a Level 2 have? I think he's just lucky."

On the other side of the ring, the members of Blood Fang had already taken their places.

Commander Tie Mu sat in a chair in the contestant area. Hearing the commotion in the stands, he looked up, his gaze sweeping across the ring and landing on Wang Lin.

Wang Lin didn't avoid that gaze, nor did he meet it.

He just stood there, locked eyes with Commander Tie Mu for a fleeting second, and then calmly looked away.

Just then, someone stood up in the contestant area on the other side of the ring.

It was Captain Huo Xiao.

When he saw Wang Lin, a perfectly measured smile appeared on his face.

He waved at Wang Lin.

If the other person had been Wang Dashan, Captain Huo Xiao would likely have trotted over to meet him, wearing a fawning smile and acting as humble as possible.

But Wang Lin was different.

Young people are mostly sensitive; the more attentive you are, the more vigilant they become.

The more humble you act, the more they suspect you have ulterior motives.

So, Captain Huo Xiao simply waved and stayed where he was, waiting for Wang Lin to walk over.

Not too close, not too far.

Neither cold nor warm.

Captain Huo Xiao had always had a knack for knowing exactly how to treat different people.

Wang Lin glanced at him and walked over.

"Young Master Wang, you're here. Have a seat."