35: Chapter 35 I'll take this battle for the North

"Did you hear me? Withdraw from the competition! Withdraw immediately!"

Commander's voice had already changed pitch.

"A Martial Ancestor and a Martial Spirit are separated by an entire major realm; it's not like that 'half-step Martial Ancestor' concept that just toes the line.

The Martial Ancestor's Blood Qi Domain, the qualitative change in Gang Qi—take any one of those, and they can crush someone of the same level.

You sweeping thirty-four people with one shot in the Mimicry Battlefield is useless; those thirty-four were all Martial Spirits. A Martial Ancestor is different!"

His eyes were red.

He hadn't known Li Zhengyang for many days, but what the kid had done in the Mimicry Battlefield today made him feel that Fortress No. 13 had finally produced a real talent.

He couldn't just watch him go to his death.

"Old Commander."

"Huh?"

Li Zhengyang stood up and picked up the weapons spread on the ground, putting them back into his bundles one by one. His movements were unhurried. He tied the knots and carried one in each hand.

"Let's go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Back."

Commander froze for a moment.

Then he was overjoyed.

"Yes, yes, yes! Let's go! Forget the prize money! Life is more important!"

"I still want the prize money. I'll ask the organizing committee later if there's any money for second place."

"Fine, fine, fine, second place is fine too, let's go quickly!"

Li Zhengyang carried the two bundles and walked toward the exit.

In the stands, undisguised sneers erupted from the First Fortress section.

"Running away?"

"Weren't you being pretty badass just now? Sweeping thirty-four people with one shot and setting up a stall to rob others—how come you've turned chicken now?"

"A recruit is a recruit after all. It's fine to mess with Martial Spirits, but hearing the words 'Martial Ancestor' makes his legs go soft."

Several of Lin Zhenshan's trusted officers laughed the loudest.

One of them even patted the person next to him on the shoulder, his voice loud enough for half the stands to hear.

"Alright, alright, stop laughing. You can't blame him; knowing when to run because you can't win means his brain is working just fine."

The laughter grew even louder.

Li Zhengyang walked to the entrance of the passageway.

Three more steps forward was the exit.

Then, the air in front of him suddenly became dense.

It wasn't wind.

It was as if something was pressing down in the air.

A man stood right in the middle of the passageway.

He was in his fifties with greying short hair, wearing a wrinkled old military uniform with four stars on his shoulders.

Commander Xiao Ding.

Li Zhengyang didn't know when he had appeared there.

The main stands were at least a hundred meters away from the passageway entrance just now; did this person walk over or float over?

The foot he had stepped out with retracted on its own.

It wasn't fear.

It was that all the instincts in his body were pulling him back.

"Young man, leaving in such a hurry?"

Commander Xiao Ding's tone was very casual, yet it lacked no pressure.

"Don't want the prize money anymore?"

Li Zhengyang placed the two bundles on the ground.

"Commander Xiao Ding."

"Hmm, you know me."

"Your photo hangs right in the center of the command hall of Fortress No. 13; it would be inexcusable not to know you."

Commander Xiao Ding chuckled and looked him up and down for a few seconds.

"Your marksmanship is not bad. A 20-year-old 9th-Rank Martial Spirit is rare even in the entire Northern Territory."

"Thank you for the compliment, Commander. But I can't beat a Martial Ancestor; going up there would just be getting beaten for nothing."

"So if you can't win, you won't fight?"

"Fighting when you can't win is called throwing your life away."

Li Zhengyang answered crisply and decisively.

Commander Xiao Ding laughed.

The laughter reverberated in the passageway, making the overhead lights shake.

"Alright, a practical person."

The laughter stopped.

Commander Xiao Ding raised a finger.

"Then I'll change the terms. Go up and have a fight with Deputy Regimental Commander Lu Chen; regardless of win or loss, the two million will be paid out."

Li Zhengyang didn't say a word.

"Last for ten minutes, and I'll add one million."

Li Zhengyang's breathing paused for half a beat.

Three million.

Thirty thousand points of Blood Qi.

"If you win."

Commander Xiao Ding paused, looking at him.

"I'll give you a spot in the Marrow Cleansing Pool in the military region's secret realm."

"Plus the prize money, five million."

The passageway went quiet.

The noise from the distant stadium turned into a blurry background sound.

Five million.

Fifty thousand points of Blood Qi.

Enough for him to surge directly from 9th-Rank Martial Spirit to the Martial Ancestor realm.

Li Zhengyang stood in place, the two bundles still by his feet, with no change in expression on his face.

Three seconds.

He bent down, picked up the bundles, and stuffed them next to a trash can in the corner of the passageway.

Then he turned around and strode back toward the stadium.

He didn't take the bundles.

He carried his gun in his hand.

He walked to the very center of the arena and stood still.

The stands with one hundred thousand people were still in chaos. The people from Fortress No. 13 were cursing, the other stands were discussing, and the First Fortress side was still laughing.

Li Zhengyang took a breath.

"For the honor of Fortress No. 13!"

His voice penetrated the entire stadium.

All the noise was instantly suppressed.

"This battle, I, Li Zhengyang, accept."

There was a beat of silence.

The Fortress No. 13 section erupted first.

"Good!"

"Zhengyang! Zhengyang! Zhengyang!"

The veterans slapped the railings and roared, their voices trembling.

Other stands gradually started clapping, scattered at first, then becoming denser.

The laughter from the First Fortress side stopped.

Amidst the applause, Li Zhengyang stepped back two paces and leaned toward the entrance of the passageway.

Commander Xiao Ding was still standing there, hands behind his back, a smile on his face.

Li Zhengyang lowered his voice.

"Commander Xiao Ding."

"Hmm?"

"Can the two million basic prize money be paid out in advance?"

Commander Xiao Ding's expression froze for a moment.

"???"

He had fought for thirty years, led hundreds of thousands of soldiers, but this was the first one to ask if the prize money could be paid in advance before a battle.

"Fine, I will apply for the basic prize money of two million for you right now."

Li Zhengyang turned back to the center of the arena.

On the holographic projection screen, the countdown for the final had already appeared.

Fifteen minutes.

The ground in the center of the arena rumbled and split open, and an alloy stage rose from underground.

It was completely different from the wooden stage used during the tryouts; this stage was entirely silver-white, with dense formation patterns carved on the surface, specifically designed to withstand the combat impact of high-level martial artists.

The construction cost was no less than ten million.

Li Zhengyang carried his gun and jumped onto the stage.

When his feet touched it, he could feel the formation patterns humming and vibrating, transmitting weak spiritual energy fluctuations to the soles of his shoes.

Good stage.

Sturdy.

Wait.

I wonder if this stage can be dismantled and sold after the battle.

Just as he was pondering this, something heavy suddenly pressed down from the front.

It wasn't Gang Qi.

No matter how strong Gang Qi is, it's just a line or a wall.

This was overwhelming.

A person stepped through the air from the direction of the dome.

He was thirty-two years old, with a slender build and cold, clear features.

He didn't wear a sword at his waist; his hands were empty.

Within a three-meter radius around him, the air twisted into translucent ripples. He stepped on the void, step by step, and landed steadily on the other end of the stage.

Deputy Regimental Commander Lu Chen.