The sudden proclamations left the crowd dazed.
Were they hearing things? Zizhu City? How could such a prestigious power be linked to Tang Yan?
Two colossal factions betting on Tang Yan sent ripples of shock through the plaza. *Could Tang Yan be some hidden prodigy?*
But the thought quickly dissipated.
Maybe they were just giving him a boost for appearances’ sake. With the wealth of those two powers, if they truly believed in Tang Yan’s victory, wouldn’t they have wagered billions?
Still, the crowd couldn’t fathom what tied Tang Yan to these giants.
With their bets, Tang Yan’s name rocketed to the top of the board.
At the mention of fifty million taels, Tang Yan’s mind conjured Zi Yun’s mature, graceful figure.
*That woman sure knows how to throw money around.*
“It’s an honor to host esteemed guests from Zizhu City in Fang City. Forgive any lack in our hospitality. If you’ve time after the competition, please grace my residence with a visit,” Fang Wentian stood, clasping his hands toward the square-faced man.
“You’re too kind, Lord Fang,” the man replied courteously.
Lin Xiao’s face twitched. Tang Yan had kept a low profile for years, but this sudden web of connections was downright staggering.
Ge Ming from Miaodan Workshop made sense—he was based in Cloud City. Though it was unclear how he’d linked up with Tang Yan, it could’ve been a favor for Old Man Tang.
But Zizhu City? A transcendent force in Tingxiang, miles and leagues from Cloud City—how had Tang Yan roped them in?
Even Lin Xiao, who thought he knew Tang Yan well, was floored, let alone the others.
Yao Qian eyed Tang Yan warily. This kid had humiliated Yu City so thoroughly that Yao Qian had half a mind to arrange a quiet assassination. But with such hefty backing, he’d need to weigh his options carefully.
“Grandpa…” In the crowd, a少年 with bright, dark eyes tugged at the old man beside him.
“Heh, these mundane fools can’t see Young Master Tang’s true talent. Fine—I’ll lend a hand too,” Shen Shan chuckled, reading Shen He’s intent. Raising his voice, he declared, “One hundred million taels on Tang Yan to win!”
The words silenced the plaza once more.
Then, like a dam breaking, the crowd exploded into chaos.
“Who’s that guy? What a massive bet!”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“A hundred million taels in one go—his power might rival Zizhu City. Could he be royalty?”
Speculation ran wild, though a few scoffed: *These big shots are just rich idiots. When Tang Yan loses, all that silver’s going straight into someone else’s pocket.*
“Grandpa, didn’t you say at our level, silver doesn’t matter anymore? Why just a hundred million?” Shen He grumbled.
Shen Shan gave a wry smile. “A hundred million taels is a fortune even in Tingxiang, let alone the Eastern Domain! Besides, why carry more than that on a trip? It’s all we’ve got.”
Lin Xiao’s heart churned with awe and a touch of embarrassment. *Are these people insane, dropping such huge bets right before I could place mine?*
His planned fifty thousand taels had seemed substantial—now it was laughable.
Tang Yan followed the voice and spotted Shen Shan and Shen He. A flicker of surprise crossed his mind. *They’re still in Cloud City?*
Shen Shan flashed him a warm smile; Tang Yan returned a clasped-hand salute.
Mo Bin and the five city lords regarded Shen Shan with newfound caution.
They’d seen countless experts and were powerhouses themselves, yet they couldn’t gauge this old man’s strength.
His cultivation might far exceed theirs!
The realization hit hard. *A Heavenly Stage master, perhaps?*
Fang Wentian glanced at the board—Tang Yan’s bets now topped one hundred seventy million taels. His pulse quickened. *If Tang Yan loses, that’s all Fang City’s haul!* Even a city lord couldn’t stay calm facing such a windfall.
Steadying himself, Fang Wentian announced, “Since there are no more bets—”
“Wait, Brother Fang. I haven’t wagered yet,” Lin Xiao cut in, standing despite his awkwardness. Under the crowd’s scrutiny, he upped the ante. “Cloud City bets one million taels each on Lin Dongxue and Tang Yan!”
Though dwarfed by the prior three bets, it outstripped the other four city lords’ contributions.
“Lord Lin’s got guts,” Fang Wentian said with a grin, sensing no more big players would step up. “I declare the second round of the Eastern Domain Competition officially underway! Number one contestants, take the stage!”
Two fighters emerged from Qing City and Song City.
Tang Yan held number eight, Lin Dongxue number six—two of the luckiest numbers among ten, as if fate had willed it to Cloud City.
Tang Yan sat up straighter, focusing on the match.
After yesterday’s eliminations, this round’s duels were noticeably more thrilling.
As he watched, Tang Yan broke it down for Lin Dongxue:
“First match: Qing City’s Chen Qingzhi’s solid—peak third-rank, slick with techniques. Against him, close the gap fast, don’t let him unleash his moves.”
“Second match: Wan Fei versus Yao Yuan. Yao Yuan’s only second-rank; Wan Fei’s a battle-hardened mercenary. Yao Yuan’s toast. You’re on par with Wan Fei—if you face her, it’s a mental game.”
“Third match: Qing City’s Sun Long versus Fang City’s Fang Chen. Sun Long’s steady, fights with ease, and his calm eyes hint at a hidden ace—likely masking higher strength.”
“Fourth match…”
By the sixth match, it was Lin Dongxue’s turn.
The crowd remembered this striking girl. Her opponent: Qing City’s Du Jing.
Du Jing, at peak second-rank, was outclassed in power, speed, techniques, and skill. Lin Dongxue dispatched him swiftly.
On the judges’ platform, Mo Bin watched her with gleaming eyes, nodding in approval.
He’d thought a speck like the Eastern Domain wouldn’t yield much talent, but this trip had surprised him. Some fighters even stumped his keen perception.
Like Tang Yan, up next.
Another duel wrapped up, and the red-robed elder boomed, “Number eight contestants, take the stage!”
As Tang Yan rose, eyes from all directions locked onto him.
Doubts about his strength lingered, but with over a hundred million taels wagered on him, dismissing him wasn’t easy.
“Song Qing!”
A gasp erupted as Song City’s contender stepped forward.
Though third on the betting board, Song Qing still commanded forty-six million taels—a testament to his prowess.
At Fang City’s seats, Fang Xuan’s face lit with curiosity. “Tang Yan beat a third-rank Su Wei with just first-rank strength before. Who do you reckon wins this time?”
Cheng Gong didn’t rush to answer. He glanced at Wan Fei beside him. “Miss Wan, I hear you know that Tang guy up there. Who do you think takes this one?”