### Chapter 2: Showdown at the Mountain Stronghold (1)
==============================
Last night, after the Demon-Subduing Alliance finally got their act together and came up with a battle plan,
the Kongtong Sect shot out four copies of a challenge letter into the mountain stronghold, asserting their right to settle things through a duel.
Initially, they worried that the rough-and-tumble mountain soldiers would treat the challenge letters as toilet paper, ignoring them completely.
But when the Demon-Subduing Alliance reached the base of the stronghold, they found the gates wide open. A plump, armored man stood at the entrance, and they knew this must be the stronghold’s response to their challenge.
Otherwise, how could this normally impenetrable gate just swing open at whim?
The Fatty planted his heavy sword into the ground with a thud. He stood alone, not a single soldier in sight behind him.
But his imposing demeanor made the Demon-Subduing Alliance think twice about underestimating him.
“Who goes there?” roared the Fatty.
Pei Penghai shot a glance at Liao Chen, the monk.
As the Alliance Leader, Liao Chen had to maintain some authority. If he responded to every ruckus from the enemy, the Demon-Subduing Alliance would look weak and pitiful.
After receiving a nod from Liao Chen, Pei Penghai stepped forward and bowed, proclaiming,
“I am Pei Penghai of the Kongtong Sect under the Demon-Subduing Alliance. Have you gotten our challenge letter? Does your boss have any objections?”
The Fatty replied, “Our Great King read it and said it’s not out of the question, but we have our conditions.”
“Go on,” Pei Penghai urged.
The crowd perked up, eager to hear what the stronghold would propose.
Among them, only Lin Nan remained unfazed; after all, she had secretly taught the Fatty what to say.
“The Duel format presented by the Demon-Subduing Alliance is way too lengthy and complicated, with too many people involved. It seems thorough, but it’s dreadfully boring. Our Great King thinks we should just have a free-for-all battle with a hundred people. Whichever side gets wiped out loses.”
The Demon-Subduing Alliance promptly shook their heads.
These bandits were ridiculous; what kind of idea was that?
It was like a bad joke— a hundred-person brawl?
That would completely undermine individual merit. The chaos and multitude would overshadow the heroes from each faction, diminishing their charm.
No, no, this won’t work!
The Fatty stroked his chin and smacked his lips,
“Of course, we have a backup plan: a team tournament incorporating your idea.”
Pei Penghai was left speechless. Why was it that these bandits had so many tricks up their sleeves? Couldn’t they just have a simple arena match? Ugh…
The Fatty succinctly explained the team tournament rules.
Both the Demon-Subduing Alliance and the stronghold would field six teams, each consisting of three members.
They would draw lots to divide into two groups, competing in two rounds of round-robin matches. Win a match, and you score three points. A draw gives one point to each team, while the losers get nothing.
The top two teams from each group would face off in the finals to compete for the championship.
Whichever faction’s champion prevailed would be declared the victor of this combat tournament, and the losers would have to obey any demands made by the champions.
Moreover, the champions would receive a thousand taels of gold prepared by the stronghold, which would be presented at the event’s start as a sign of seriousness.
Needless to say, the crowd, except for Lin Nan and the Fatty, was hearing such a convoluted competition method for the first time.
Although the Fatty had explained it slowly, many still had a hard time following along.
“Of course, if you guys don’t agree to this second proposal, the stronghold will immediately close the gate. If you think you’re brave enough, then come and fight us!”
The Fatty’s threat had an immediate effect.
Everyone had come there thinking it was quite likely the stronghold would reject the duel anyway.
Moreover, the Fatty’s second proposal was, in fact, much more reasonable than the first, capable of showcasing the individual charm of contestants.
After some murmuring, the crowd looked toward Liao Chen, the nominal leader.
Liao Chen certainly wouldn’t turn away the will of the people; he was there to supervise fairly, not to lead in the traditional sense.
He understood this well, so once a consensus formed among the majority, he nodded in agreement.
At that moment, his focus turned to the striking Woman in Red, known as “Treading the Red Dust.”
That woman exuded an elusive aura reminiscent of the demoness who had once tempted him.
He had every reason to suspect that she was either a transformed demoness or possessed by one; in either case, it was something he needed to resolve quickly.
Otherwise, the Buddhist hearts of the monks remaining in the Demon-Subduing Temple would be at risk, and decades of cultivation might be in jeopardy.
“Well then, let’s get on with it,” Liao Chen declared.
Pei Penghai stepped forward as the alliance representative to discuss details with the Fatty, hoping to finalize the rules and select contestants as soon as possible.
At that moment, over a dozen soldiers emerged from the stronghold, carrying tables and chairs. They set up in a clearing, erecting a large sign with a single word: “Bet.”
Suddenly, it all clicked for the crowd as to why the stronghold was running things this way.
With the schedule arranged so, it would greatly facilitate betting on teams, and the simultaneous matches in two groups expanded the options for punters.
Thus, as the betting sign went up, a throng of onlookers swarmed in, eager not to miss out on betting on their coveted teams.
The Demon-Subduing Alliance collectively thought, “…”
Seriously? The team list isn’t even finalized yet, and you lot are already jumping out of your skin?
Pei Penghai, who had been discussing the match format with the Fatty, suddenly turned back to his comrades and said, “Everyone, just to clarify, the champion has the right to make any demands of the losing side, and the losers must comply. Are there truly no objections?”
In fact, some sharp-witted folks had already picked up on this point when the Fatty stated the rules.
He had only mentioned the champion’s power, not the entire Demon-Subduing Alliance.
This meant that if any particular sect won, they could completely bypass the Demon-Subduing Alliance and demand terms favorable to themselves—perhaps just throwing the others a bone at the end.
After Pei Penghai reiterated this point, nearly everyone grasped the true implications of the tournament champion.
Initially, they had all agreed to face the situation together, unwilling to be swayed from outside pressures.
But in less than a day, confronted by the conditions presented by the stronghold, everyone hesitated, and after a lengthy pause, not a single one raised an objection.
Lin Nan smirked internally.
This was what they called the martial arts alliance? It was utterly crumbling in the face of self-interest.
She had merely wanted the Fatty to test the waters a bit, and yet these fools had all fallen silent!
Liao Chen was truly pitiful; he had been the alliance leader for just one night and was already sidelined by those with their own agendas.
But then again, it seemed he didn’t care that much, as he boldly stepped up to Pei Penghai and announced that he too wanted to participate in the competition.
Lin Nan narrowed her eyes; things were starting to get interesting.
