Wilder's summons was issued quickly. The palace meeting hall was soon filled with people, all of them core members of Morass at the senior cadre level and above—the "officials" of the kingdom.
In addition to them, the heads of all departments were also present.
But the atmosphere was somewhat strange. The people present were clearly divided. The department heads, who had no combat power, stood to one side, while the cadres clustered together in a group.
Whispers rose and fell, mostly discussing the reason for this summons. The cadres would occasionally cast complex glances at the group of department heads—looks of disdain, hostility, and other emotions.
At some point, a discordant phenomenon had appeared within the ranks of Morass.
Wilder emerged from the inner palace, and the meeting hall instantly fell silent. All eyes turned to him with respect.
Dressed in formal kingly attire, Wilder appeared majestic, noble, and extraordinary. Every movement exuded an air of authority.
"Your Majesty the King!" everyone bowed in greeting.
Wilder's face was expressionless. His gaze swept over the scene, taking in the subtle power dynamics below. He made a slight gesture to dismiss the formalities.
This time, Wilder had summoned everyone for two reasons. One was that the Grand Tournament was imminent, and arrangements needed to be made. The other… had to do with the current internal situation among the members of Morass. In other words… it was time for a purge.
He had been watching the changes within Morass for some time. He knew it was only a matter of time. Every organization would experience this kind of internal turmoil. So, Wilder's second objective was to nip this turmoil in the bud.
But there was no rush for that now. At least, not until after the Grand Tournament.
"The Grand Tournament is upon us. Does anyone have any suggestions regarding the necessary preparations for the event?"
A matter of this importance couldn't be handled too casually, so the necessary sense of ceremony was required.
Furthermore, the rewards, punishments, and competition mechanics were of the utmost importance and what everyone cared about most.
Wilder's words jolted everyone to attention. Only then did they remember… there were less than five days until the Grand Tournament.
However, they all looked at each other, at a loss for words, creating a somewhat awkward silence.
Wilder had more or less anticipated this situation. His gaze shifted to the members of the Talent Development Department.
Now, he could only rely on them. There was no other choice, as basically all the smart people in Morass were in that department.
Akira, the acting head of the Talent Development Department, understood Wilder's glance immediately. He took a step forward, instantly drawing everyone's attention.
"Your Majesty, the Grand Tournament is a matter of great significance, directly related to the strength of Morass. Therefore, I suggest that it be open to the public. This will, on one hand, unite the hearts of the people, and on the other, it will push the cadres of Morass to do their utmost under pressure."
As soon as Akira finished speaking, the faces of many cadres darkened.
This guy… is he deliberately trying to oppose us?
They gritted their teeth, their gazes on Akira so intense they looked like they wanted to eat him.
The Grand Tournament was already putting a lot of pressure on them. Now, this guy seemed to think their pressure wasn't enough and was here to add more.
Open to the public? If they won, it would be fine. But if they lost, wouldn't they be made a spectacle of, like monkeys in a circus?
Damn it!
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Wilder's lips. He gave Akira an appreciative look. "Very good. That is an excellent suggestion. We'll do it that way. Are there any other suggestions?"
Akira, wearing round-framed glasses, had a very scholarly and calm demeanor. Hearing Wilder's words, he bowed again. "I believe the competition can adopt an elimination and challenge system."
"The tournament will be divided into two tiers: a cadre-level tournament and a senior-cadre-level tournament. The two will not interfere with each other and will use an elimination system, proceeding round by round. Those eliminated in the first round will be deemed unqualified and must accept punishment. Those who reach the semi-finals will have met the standard and will not face punishment regardless of whether they win or lose from that point on. Those who reach the finals will receive corresponding rewards. As for the final champions, I suggest setting three champion spots for the cadre level. In addition to their rewards, the champions will have the opportunity to challenge a senior cadre. Their opponent will be chosen from those eliminated first in the senior-cadre-level tournament. If the challenge is successful, the champion cadre will be promoted to senior cadre, and the challenged and defeated senior cadre will be demoted to cadre. As for the senior cadre tournament, I suggest establishing a single champion spot."
Ignoring the darkened or excited expressions of the various cadres below, Akira retreated after speaking.
Wilder's gaze swept over the crowd. His voice was flat, betraying no emotion. "Does anyone have any objections to this suggestion?"
"I have no objection."
"Sounds good."
"I second the motion."
The responses were surprisingly unanimous. Wilder understood why no one objected. Firstly, the proposal was relatively fair. Everything still came down to strength. Although there might be an element of luck involved, wasn't luck sometimes a part of strength?
Secondly, the cadres were eyeing the senior cadre positions. No one looked down on themselves, and everyone wanted to give it a shot. Why would they pass up this opportunity for promotion?
The only ones unhappy with this suggestion were probably the senior cadres themselves. It was not a good feeling to be targeted. Although they were confident in themselves, there was no guarantee that there weren't one or two hidden upstarts who had been biding their time. If one or two of these upstarts had a major breakthrough in strength during this period, then it was really hard to say.
However, even though they thought this way, no one would say they disagreed. For no other reason than it would be too conspicuous and would make them lose face. A dignified senior cadre, afraid of something like this? Unthinkable.
Without any opposition, the matter was settled. They then discussed the rewards and punishments.
Ultimately, it was decided that the punishment for cadres would be the stripping of their position. They would go and work with the common people without pay. They could only return when their term was up. If they were found slacking off, they would be permanently kicked out of Morass, and in serious cases, imprisoned.
The punishment for senior cadres was much simpler. They would have to face the siege of ten of the strongest cadres. If they were still standing at the end, they would retain their position. If they failed… sorry, they would be demoted.
As for the rewards, they were tiered. The senior cadre champion's reward was the most generous: a promotion to the minister level, the same as Claire and Vice, though of course, their authority would not compare to Claire's. In addition, there were other generous rewards besides the position.
Then came the rewards for the runner-up and third place, followed by rewards for reaching the finals and semi-finals.
The cadre-level rewards were not as generous as the senior cadre's. The champion's prize was only comparable to the senior cadre's runner-up and third place, but the system was the same. Rewards were given up to the semi-finalists.
The day of the Grand Tournament drew closer and closer. News of the event had spread throughout the entire Kingdom of Morass. Such a grand occasion excited the populace, and it became the talk of the town for days.
The venue for the finals was located at the junction of the Direct Rule District and District 10. Construction had begun here two months ago, and a martial arts arena capable of holding tens of thousands of people now stood tall.
From the outside, the arena looked like a giant colosseum, cylindrical in shape, with two ferocious giant serpents coiled around its sides. Above the massive main entrance, five large, Wano-style characters were written in a flamboyant script: Morass Martial Arts Arena!
This would serve as the venue for future martial arts competitions and displays of military might in Morass.
Now, with the tournament imminent, the public had already bought watermelons and colas and brought small stools from home to line up for entry.
Since it was a newly built venue, some of the facilities were not yet complete. There were no seats, so those who wanted to watch the tournament had to either sit on the stone steps or bring their own soft little stools.
Naturally, the cool stone steps were more comfortable, but sitting for a long time would inevitably cause one's tailbone to feel a numb and itchy sensation from the pressure. So, wise people would choose to bring their own little stools. This way, they could also throw their finished watermelon rinds and banana peels on the stone steps at their feet, instead of sitting on the same level as the trash.
"Eh? You're here to watch the show too?"
"Yeah, what a coincidence."
Living in the same district, the chances of acquaintances running into each other were quite high. Soon, from the entrance to the spectator stands, there was a constant buzz of discussion and conversation.
"I heard His Majesty the King will be attending this time."
"I heard that too. According to a little rumor I heard, His Majesty places great importance on this tournament. It seems he's even set up some kind of reward and punishment system."
"Really? The fights are good to watch, but is it that important?"
"Tch, you don't get it. According to a little rumor I heard…" The person took a bite of a banana, casually tossed the peel, and said mysteriously, but was interrupted before he could finish.
"How do you have so many little rumors? And since it's a little rumor, how would a litterbug like you know?"
"…The hell…! That's not the point, okay?!"
"Then get this damn banana peel off my foot!"
"…Uh, my bad, my bad, sorry about that…"
Conversations like this created a very lively atmosphere inside the martial arts arena. Amidst the noise, with a few melodious chimes of a bell, the entire arena instantly fell silent.
As Wilder, dressed in a magnificent formal suit, appeared on the viewing platform with steady steps, the entire arena erupted in thunderous applause.
The reaction from the public was intense. They clapped as if they wanted their hands to break off, their expressions excited, shouting loudly, "Your Majesty the King! Your Majesty the King! Your Majesty the King!"
Wilder smiled and calmly waved to all directions. "Hello, everyone."
"WOOOOAH!" This time, the crowd's reaction was even more fervent! They couldn't hide the excitement and thrill on their faces, letting out a unified cheer.
Vice, watching from behind, felt a headache coming on. He rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, "The boss is getting more and more of a show-off."
His voice was soft, but Claire, standing next to him, heard it perfectly. A vein instantly bulged on her forehead. She turned her head and looked at Vice with a smile.
Hiss!
That smile made Vice's entire expression freeze. He felt his scalp tingle. He was about to deny what he had just said when he heard Claire's voice turn incredibly dangerous, enunciating each word: "Do! Not! Speak! Ill! Of! The! Boss!"
Her words carried a natural chill that made Vice shiver.
This demoness is getting more and more terrifying, he thought.
He immediately shook his head like a rattle drum. He was joking, right? He didn't dare to offend Claire. Leaving aside the question of whether he could beat her now, just the fact that Wilder was definitely biased and would surely side with Claire was enough to extinguish any desire Vice had to fight with this woman.
"Hmph!" Seeing Vice back down, Claire snorted coldly and turned away.
"Hehehe…" Vice chuckled awkwardly, but he was thinking to himself, Looks like I can't talk bad about the boss in front of this woman anymore.
Without any more unnecessary words, Wilder briefly spoke a sentence or two about the purpose of the competition and his concern for the common people, and then…
"Let the tournament begin!" Opposite the viewing platform was the announcer's stage. The announcer held a microphone and spoke a single sentence, then struck the large bronze bell above his head.
DONG~
"It's starting! I can't help but get excited! Aiya, this is so thrilling!" The commoners in the audience widened their eyes, waiting for the contestants to enter, their faces filled with unconcealable excitement.
The person next to him heard this and got goosebumps, looking at the speaker with a mixture of disbelief and horror.
A large face, purple lips, heavy makeup, stockings, leg hair…
This… this person is…
The person's pupils shrank!
Masaka…!
This person is one of the legendary okama?
The contestants had not yet entered. On the viewing platform, Wilder's gaze had not once left the competition field, yet it was as if he knew everything happening in the entire arena in minute detail. A strange smile involuntarily lifted the corner of his mouth. His gaze swept over a few rather "special" figures in the crowd.
A low chuckle escaped his lips. "It seems this tournament has attracted quite a few outsiders. Nyehehehe… Really, not even a single greeting. It makes us seem so inhospitable."
Wilder's back was to Claire, a smirk on his face. His voice, amidst the noise, clearly reached her ears. "Claire, we have guests and you didn't even know. Who is in charge of the Monitoring Department here now? Ah… never mind. We'll leave this for now. After the competition is over, we must have these distant guests over to our home to properly fulfill our duties as hosts."
Hearing Wilder's words, Claire's pupils shrank. Her gaze quickly swept across the entire arena. After a long moment, Claire secretly clenched her fists, her face grim. She gritted her teeth and said in a low voice, "Yes. I will handle this matter."