34: Chapter 34: A street stall was set up on the spot.

Chief of Staff Zhang Yuan lifted himself halfway out of his chair, opened his mouth, then sat back down.

He had been working with Commander Xiao Ding for eight years and knew this man too well.

When a man with four stars on his shoulders made a decision, no one could stop him.

"Then I will go pass on the order." The adjutant turned and walked away quickly.

Beside him, Lin Zhenshan set down his teacup and tapped his knees twice lightly.

"The Commander has a sharp eye for talent. Deputy Regimental Commander Lu Chen is indeed the most suitable touchstone. However, this child is only a 9th-Rank Martial Spirit after all; if he damages his foundation, it would be..."

He dragged out the last note as he said this.

A pity. On the surface, it was a pity.

Chief of Staff Zhang Yuan turned his head to look at him. Your son's wrist was just broken by someone, and now you say it's a pity? Only a fool would believe you.

Commander Xiao Ding did not take the bait. His attention was entirely on the large holographic projection screen.

The contestant counter for the Mimicry Battlefield was still jumping. 28... 19... 12...

"If we don't call a halt, this kid is going to scare everyone into extinction," Commander Xiao Ding muttered. "Pass on the order: the second stage ends early, and all contestants are to be teleported back to the arena immediately."

Inside the Mimicry Battlefield.

When the broadcast sounded, Li Zhengyang was squatting beside a guy who had passed out, stripping off his bracers.

"Attention, the second stage of the competition ends early. Due to the large-scale withdrawal of contestants, there is no point in continuing. All contestants currently on the field will be teleported back to the Central Stadium in thirty seconds. Final rankings will be based on the number of point tokens."

Thirty seconds.

Li Zhengyang's hand speed suddenly maxed out.

Bracers, stripped. Storage bag, untied. The dagger tucked at the waist was of good quality, so he took it as well.

There were several weapons scattered on the ground that had been swept away by the spear waves. He bent down to pick up the two best-looking long sabers and kicked over a storage bag half-buried in the rubble.

Too much stuff.

His pockets and storage ring were stuffed full, and there was no place left for the remaining pile of odds and ends.

He looked around, his gaze falling on a guy embedded in the rock wall thirty meters away.

The military jacket on that person was still relatively intact.

Li Zhengyang walked over and ripped the jacket off in a few quick movements. The man groaned in pain but pretended to be dead, not daring to make a sound.

He then stripped another jacket off the back of another person lying nearby who didn't dare to move. He spread the two jackets on the ground, piled all the looted spoils onto them, and gathered the four corners to tie them up.

Two bulging bundles stood up like snake-skin bags.

"Ten, nine, eight..."

The countdown rang out.

Li Zhengyang held one bundle in his left hand, one in his right, with the dragon gall golden spear tucked under his arm.

He looked down and scanned the area one last time. Hmm, didn't leave anything behind.

"Three, two, one, teleport!"

A white light swallowed the entire wasteland.

Central Stadium.

On the large holographic projection screen, the final rankings were already displayed.

First place: Li Zhengyang, Fortress No. 13, 41 point tokens.

Second place: Sun Kai, Fortress No. 7, 6 point tokens.

Forty-one to six.

The stands, holding one hundred thousand people, were silent. Everything that needed to be said had already been said; everyone was just waiting for the people to come out.

The white light of the teleportation array flickered in succession.

The surviving contestants appeared in the center of the arena one after another.

Some were slumped on the ground panting, some were trembling and looking around, and some ran to their teammates to hug and cry the moment they landed.

The last white light.

Li Zhengyang walked out from the light.

One bundle in his left hand, one in his right, with the long spear tucked under his arm. The weapons inside the bundles clattered together, ringing with every step he took.

The stadium with one hundred thousand people was silent.

The medical team's stretcher squad happened to be passing through the right aisle. Four stretchers were lined up, with Qi Tian lying on the first one.

His chest was wrapped in thick bandages, his face was ashen, and dried blood crusts still hung from the corners of his mouth.

The stretcher passed within two meters of Li Zhengyang. Qi Tian's body suddenly tensed up.

Then he twisted his head in the opposite direction. The movement was too violent, pulling at his broken ribs, and he let out a muffled groan, tears of pain squeezing from the corners of his eyes.

But he would rather die of pain than look this way. The elite of the Northern Border Military Region, the seeded contestants from each fortress. At this moment, they collectively chose to close their eyes and play dead.

In the front row of the stands, Commander sprang up from his seat. He didn't even take the stairs, flipping directly over the railing and jumping down, stumbling as he ran to Li Zhengyang.

"Zhengyang!"

His voice cracked, and he opened his arms to pounce on him.

Li Zhengyang stepped aside to dodge. Commander pounced on empty air, his feet slipped, and he almost fell face-first into the dirt.

"Don't touch, you'll crush my merchandise."

"What merchandise?"

Li Zhengyang placed the two bundles on the ground and squatted down to untie the knots. Weapons clattered all over the ground.

Seven long sabers, three short swords, two hammers, and an iron shield—he didn't know which poor soul he'd stripped it from; it still had a fist-sized dent in it.

In addition, there were a dozen bottles of pills, five or six pieces of armor and bracers, plus a few bulging storage bags.

Li Zhengyang took out the piece of cardboard that had been with him all day from his pocket, flipped it over, and used a marker pen he'd scavenged from Qi Tian's storage bag to write two lines on the back.

[Fire Sale, Everything Half Price]

[No Returns or Exchanges, No Bargaining]

He stood the cardboard up behind the pile of weapons. The whole arena was silent for three seconds.

Slap.

In some corner of the stands, someone couldn't hold it in anymore and slapped their thigh. Then laughter exploded from all directions.

"Am I seeing this right? He's setting up a street stall?"

"A street stall in the arena? This must be the first time, right?"

"It's the same cardboard from before! It said 'Robbery' on the front, and 'Fire Sale' on the back! Double-sided operation!"

Li Zhengyang ignored them all.

He picked up a long saber, flicked the blade, listened to the tone, and nodded in satisfaction. Then he looked up and tilted his chin toward a referee passing by ten meters away.

"Hey, Ref."

The referee stopped and turned back.

"Can you scan a code to pay here?"

"...Huh?"

"I accept cash too, but bank transfer is better; I don't have change."

A very complex expression appeared on the referee's face.

He had been a referee for twelve years. He had seen contestants fight in the arena, curse, and cry for their mothers after losing. But setting up a street stall was a first.

Commander squatted down beside him, his voice very low.

"Can you stop it? One hundred thousand people are watching! You represent the face of Fortress No. 13!"

"How much is 'face' worth?"

"..."

"Do you want this saber? Forged from mysterious iron, I'll charge you forty thousand, a friend price."

"I don't want it!"

"Then squat to the side, don't block my path to wealth."

Someone actually came over. Two eliminated contestants bent over, rummaging through the pile of weapons. One hesitantly picked up a short sword and weighed it.

"How much for this one?"

"Thirty thousand."

"Can you make it cheaper?"

"Look at this edge." Li Zhengyang took the sword and slashed it through the air. "Thousand-forged refined steel, the cold light is restrained. Its previous owner was very spirited when he slashed at me with this thing. The quality is absolutely top-notch."

The contestant thought about the scene in the Mimicry Battlefield just now. He silently put the sword down. It wasn't that he thought it was expensive. It was that he was afraid the original owner would come looking for it. Or more accurately, he was afraid that Li Zhengyang would rob him again someday.

The laughter in the arena hadn't stopped yet when the loudspeaker rang out again.

"Dear spectators and contestants, we are now announcing the rules for the finals."

The stadium gradually quieted down.

"In view of the large-scale withdrawal of contestants in the second stage, the originally planned ten-person final no longer has competitive significance. With the approval of the Military Region Command, the final rules have been adjusted as follows."

"The contestant ranked first in the second stage, Li Zhengyang, will single-handedly challenge the specially invited gatekeeper."

"Gatekeeper: Deputy Regimental Commander Lu Chen of the Northern Border Military Region Guard Regiment."

The broadcast paused for a beat.

"Realm: Martial Ancestor."

When the last two words dropped, the entire stadium was like someone had pulled the power plug. All laughter, discussion, and noise completely vanished.

Then one hundred thousand people exploded in an uproar.

"Martial Ancestor?"

"Let a Martial Spirit fight a Martial Ancestor? Is this a selection trial or an execution?"

In the area for Fortress No. 13, several veterans who had come with Li Zhengyang stood up, slapping the railing.

"Damn it! Who the hell approved this?"

"Is this a competition or a death sentence?!"

In the center of the arena.

The color drained from Commander's face completely within two seconds.

"Withdraw from the competition."

Li Zhengyang looked up at the two words on the big screen. Martial Ancestor. He put the hammer he had just picked up to price back on the ground. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.