Chapter 9: The Climax at the Bandit Stronghold (8)
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The sight of Liao Chen’s defeat and “Tread Red Dust’s” victorious stance left everyone’s jaws on the floor.
Almost no one could believe what had just transpired.
Just moments ago, Master Liao Chen had clearly had the upper hand, nearly subduing that Woman in Red completely.
But in the blink of an eye, “Tread Red Dust” had used some unfathomable sorcery to break free from the Demon-Subduing Formation, even injuring the formidable Liao Chen in the process.
In just a fraction of a second, the tide had turned.
The line between victory and defeat was razor-thin, so quick was its shift that it struck fear deep into the bones of the crowd.
Ao Hongtu’s mouth hung open in astonishment, and all signs of pride befitting the master of the Burning Moon Sword Studio were gone.
At that moment, all he knew was that “Tread Red Dust,” the female knight, was no ordinary warrior.
Especially that scene where she hovered in mid-air for over ten seconds without any assistance! It was proof enough that this woman might have mastered some great mystic powers—even the great monk Liao Chen was no match for her, and this much was crystal clear.
He had initially invited Tread Red Dust to temporarily join the sword studio only because he wanted her to lend a hand in critical moments.
But little did he expect that the female knight would be hiding such immense strength, like an endless sea of stars far beyond his reach.
Mu Zhi wasn’t faring any better than Ao Hongtu.
Needless to say, Lin Nan’s grand counter-attack left all the naysayers utterly silenced.
Are you serious? The esteemed monk from Shaolin couldn’t even stand against her, having been flattened with one punch and now severely injured. What chance did these amateurs—those not even qualified for the selection rounds—stand against her?
In a split second, the entire competition site fell deathly quiet.
From afar, the distant crowd could only faintly hear the swishing sound of her red robe caught in the wind.
The referee cautiously approached Liao Chen, whispering, “Master, are you still able to fight?”
Liao Chen shook his head.
He knew his heart of enlightenment already had cracks. Continuing the battle would still result in defeat, making it meaningless.
What he needed was meditation and reflection, not relentless combat.
“The champions are the Burning Moon Azure City Team!”
The referee announced aloud.
At that moment, those who had bet on the Burning Moon Azure City Team finally snapped out of their stupor. They cheered boisterously, shouting with all their might, as if only by doing so could they release the joy that welled up within them.
It was a vast sum of money—silver! Silver!
The desire for wealth trumped their fear; they waved their betting slips and dashed towards the gambling booth, eager to collect their winnings and leave before anything went wrong.
But shockingly, the gambling booth was deserted, and all the silver they had paid in was gone without a trace.
“d*mn it! Where is everyone? Where’s my silver?!”
“Cursed fate! How could we be so stupid! This was a bandit-organized gambling ring! We’ve all been duped!”
“Come out! Give us our money! d*mn guys, pay up!”
The enraged mob surged towards the checkpoint.
But in an instant, a group of armor-clad soldiers blocked their path, their sharp spears preventing any further progress.
Only then did the people remember: the champions had absolute authority over the mountain stronghold.
Among the bettors on the Burning Moon Azure City Team were not only civilians but also members of the Demon-Subduing Alliance. They encircled the three champions while Liao Chen was left like discarded rags, occasionally stepped on, worsening his injuries. The monk’s complexion grew paler, and the bloodstains on his blue-green robe multiplied.
“Everyone, back off! You’re stepping on Master Liao.”
Though Lin Nan’s voice was not loud, it carried the weight of an imperial edict, and the people immediately parted to clear a way.
No one wanted to upset her right now, lest their silver claims vanish into the mountain stronghold’s treasury forever.
With everyone watching, Lin Nan slowly approached Liao Chen.
“Monk, we had a deal. If I win, you have to listen to me.”
Liao Chen stared at her silently, still trying to discern whether she was human or demon.
“You’re not saying anything, so I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Hongtu, Muzhi, you two help him up,” Lin Nan said.
The two were startled; her tone was like that of commanding a junior brother, and yet it came so naturally. And yet, both found they couldn’t refuse.
They exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with helplessness.
“Miss Tread, shouldn’t you exercise the rights granted by your championship victory?”
“Exactly, exactly! You’re the master of the stronghold now. Whatever you say, they’ll obey unconditionally.”
“Please, Miss Tread, get our silver back! It’s the money my family lives on!”
“Sob! All our hopes rest on your shoulders!”
Lin Nan glanced at them and nodded. “It’s time we declared our terms to the stronghold.”
She turned her gaze to Ao Hongtu and Mu Zhi. “Do either of you have anything to say? I’ll pass it along on your behalf.”
The two men, holding Liao Chen between them, both shook their heads.
If it weren’t for Tread Red Dust, they’d have never defeated Liao Chen. That monk was powerful, so much so that he could probably crush all the Demon-Subduing Alliance’s elite single-handedly.
As for Tread Red Dust, her strength might’ve already exceeded the realm of mortals.
What qualifications did they have to make demands?
Silent waiting suited them best right now.
“Where is the representative of the stronghold?” Lin Nan asked.
Fatty appeared before everyone’s eyes, trailed by a group of high-ranking stronghold officers, including Morris and Trissa.
They all glared at Lin Nan under her veil, knowing full well from the previous fight that Lin Nan’s strength was beyond their reach. Yet the thought of their stronghold falling into outsiders’ hands painted a bleak future.
“Fatty, at such a critical moment, why hasn’t the Great King appeared yet?”
“Yeah, fatty. Is the Great King even here? Are you just making up the orders?”
Trissa even conjured up a tiny four-stringed harp in her hand.
Fatty knew she could incapacitate him for three seconds anytime she pleased.
Facing the generals’ doubts, Fatty waved his hands frantically. “Trust me, everyone! Everything’s under the Great King’s control!”
Trissa sneered. “Just now you told us to only fight at 80%. If it weren’t for the Great King, I’d have beaten you down long ago.”
Adeline chimed in, “That fatso doesn’t look trustworthy. If he sells out the stronghold, we’ll cut him down immediately!”
Most generals had already drawn their weapons.
Fatty was drenched in cold sweat, his mind filled with apprehension. He feared that if the Great King betrayed him now, he’d have no way to defend himself in front of the generals.
