72: Chapter 72

Emperor Weapon.

These two words instantly brought silence to Tianjiao City.

At the highest point of the spectator stands, that group of Saint Lords and Imperial Lords, who had lived for thousands of years, all stood up, their expressions filled with shock and suspicion.

Their eyes were all fixed tightly on that small figure on the arena.

A toddler who was still curiously looking at his own small hands.

These old monsters had varied expressions.

Shock. Fanaticism. Greed. Apprehension. In the end, only a sense of absurdity remained.

Using an Emperor Weapon as a collar and hanging it around the neck of a three-and-a-half-year-old child?

What kind of game is this?

Even if an emperor in the mortal world had so much money that he used gold to build a pigsty, it wouldn't be this absurd.

At this moment, they finally understood.

What kind of monster was standing behind the Great Xia Divine Dynasty, which they had previously ignored completely.

What Heavenly Pride Battle. What number one in the Eastern Wasteland. In front of the Crown Prince, they were all a joke.

He didn't come to compete. He came out for an outing.

Saint King Kurong stood in the distance, his Face pale, his hand clutching his chest.

Golden Saint blood flowed from the corner of his lips.

Looking at Li Changsheng, there was no more investigation or scrutiny. Only awe remained.

He dared not move. He didn't even dare to have the thought of approaching.

The Emperor Weapon has a spirit, and even more so, dignity.

That moment just now was merely the Emperor Weapon's instinctive backlash to protect its master.

If it were truly angered, let alone a Saint King like him, the entire Tianjiao City, for a million miles around, would be razed to the ground.

"Cough... the competition... continue..."

Saint King Kurong said with difficulty, then disappeared, returning directly to his place of seclusion.

He needed to heal immediately. If that Emperor might was not dispelled, his thousands of years of cultivation would be destroyed in an instant.

Once the Saint King left, the tense atmosphere eased slightly.

The presiding Elder shouted with a trembling voice.

"Next match, we invite Xiao Yan of the Desolate Ancient Xiao Family to battle... Li Changsheng of the Great Xia Divine Dynasty!"

Swish. Everyone looked toward a corner of the contestant area.

There, a youth in brocade clothes had a pale Face.

Xiao Yan of the Desolate Ancient Xiao Family. A top Prodigy at the ninth level of the Marquis Realm.

His "Emperor Flame Art" was powerful, and he had performed brilliantly in the previous round.

But now, he was shaking uncontrollably. Facing Li Changsheng? He was scared silly.

He had seen with his own eyes how Li Kuangtu of the Blood Fiend Sect had raved madly and how he had been carried away foaming at the mouth.

He had also seen with his own eyes that a Saint King, just by wanting to take a look, had been shaken into vomiting blood on the spot. Now, it was his turn?

"Yan'er, go up." An old voice came into his mind. It was the Old Ancestor of the Xiao Family.

Xiao Yan shuddered, his voice laced with tears. "Old Ancestor, I... I don't want to die!"

"What nonsense are you talking!" the Xiao Family Old Ancestor said with relief. "Do you think the Old Ancestor is sending you to your death? I am telling you to forge a good connection!"

"Listen, Yan'er, our Xiao Family has been able to pass down our Legacy from the ancient times until now, not by being foolishly bold, but by seeing the situation clearly! That child's strength is far beyond what we can imagine. You go up, say nothing, do nothing, immediately, right away, decisively concede! Your posture must be low, your attitude must be sincere! Do you understand?"

"But... but to concede in front of the entire Eastern Wasteland..." Xiao Yan's self-esteem was still struggling.

"How much is Face worth? Is your life more important or is Face more important? Li Kuangtu's Dao Heart is already destroyed; does he still have any Face? Go! This is an order! Do you dare to disobey?" the Xiao Family Old Ancestor said sternly.

Xiao Yan shuddered and finally woke up. That's right. Even a Saint King vomited blood. What was the difference between him, a Marquis Realm cultivator, going up there and seeking death?

Xiao Yan shuffled onto the arena, trembling with every step. He looked at the other end of the arena.

That little one was crouching on the ground, curiously poking the floor with his finger. His legs instantly went weak, and he almost knelt down.

An Emperor Weapon. What was hanging around that neck was an Emperor Weapon capable of killing a Saint King in an instant.

He had no doubt that if he had even the slightest bit of hostility in his thoughts, he would lose his life the next moment.

"The match... begins!" the presiding Elder announced with a trembling voice.

Xiao Yan shivered violently. He didn't look at Li Changsheng, but instead, he quickly and fiercely turned to the presiding Elder and roared at the top of his lungs.

"I concede!" These three words were shouted with all his might.

After roaring, his whole body went limp, drained of strength, with cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

The whole venue suddenly fell silent. Everyone was stunned. Just like that... he conceded? Although they had all guessed it. But this was too fast, too decisive.

The presiding Elder was also stunned for a moment, but immediately reacted and quickly announced.

"Xiao Yan of the Desolate Ancient Xiao Family concedes! In this match, Li Changsheng wins!"

Phew— Xiao Yan felt like he had been granted an amnesty upon hearing the result.

He turned around and bowed deeply from afar to Li Changsheng, who was still studying the floor.

Then, without looking back, he rushed off the arena as if fleeing for his life.

Only when his feet touched the ground did he feel like he had come back to life. It was too thrilling. He had never been this thrilled in his life.

On the spectator stands, the Xiao Family Old Ancestor finally felt relieved to see his grandson come down safely, still feeling lingering fear.

"Too close, too close..."

This scene was just the beginning of a series of farces that followed.

"Next match, Nine Heavens Holy Land, Lei Zhenzi, versus... Li Changsheng!"

A youth with lightning flashing on his body walked onto the arena.

"I concede!"

"Next match, Heavenly Demon Valley, Wolf King, versus... Li Changsheng!"

A burly man with oppressive Demonic Qi walked onto the stage.

"I also concede!"

"Next match, Dayan Holy Land..."

One after another, famous Prodigies of the Eastern Wasteland took turns going onto the stage.

Their actions were uniform. Go on stage. Take a look at the toddler playing with the floor. Then, with the fastest speed and the loudest voice, shout those three words at the referee.

The atmosphere of the Top 100 tournament had completely changed. The battlefield that should have been a fierce struggle had turned into a "concession assembly."

Moreover, the contestants even started to compete with each other.

At first, everyone just shouted. Later, some felt it wasn't sincere enough, so they would bow ninety degrees to Li Changsheng before conceding.

Later still, others felt that bowing wasn't enough, so they would kneel on one knee to pay respects.

The last Prodigy to Face Li Changsheng was even more outrageous. As soon as he got on stage, without saying a word, with a "thud," he knelt on both knees.

He kowtowed three times in the direction of Li Changsheng. Only then did he lift his head and cry out to the referee.

"Lord Referee! I beg you, let me concede!"

His cry made everyone unable to decide whether to laugh or cry. Everyone was momentarily speechless.

Now, one even has to fight to be the one to concede? Afraid that if they were a second late, they wouldn't get the chance?

Li Changsheng himself had no idea what was happening.

He was crouching on the ground, feeling that this profound gold floor was cool and quite fun. He used his finger to draw circles on it.

After drawing for a while, he felt it was boring again. He looked down from the stage; people were coming and going, noisy and boisterous.

His Imperial Father had said not to run around. How boring.

He felt bored, so he simply sat down on his bottom, his two small hands scratching at the ground.

He picked out the dust and gravel from the gaps in the arena little by little and piled them into a small mound.

He also found some spirit liquid that someone had dropped, mixed it with the soil, and started making mud figures.

Thus, on the central arena of Tianjiao City, a three-and-a-half-year-old toddler, in this top-tier competition that would determine the future Luck of the Eastern Wasteland, won by lying down all the way to advancement.

At the same time, he was leisurely playing with mud.

Off the stage, all the Prodigies who hadn't competed yet were tense, with their hands clasped together, praying in low voices.

Praying to all gods and Buddhas, and their own ancestors for protection. In the next round, please, please, don't let them be drawn against this little ancestor.