Early the next morning, as the sun rose over the horizon, its orange-red light bathed the renowned Taoist mountain of Longhu Shan. The misty peaks shimmered under the golden rays, casting a breathtaking spectacle of colors.
At the summit stood four weathered training grounds, silently awaiting the competitors. By now, the mountain was already bustling with Outcasts—some here to participate, but most to witness the grand event. The crowd gathered in lively clusters, filling the air with excitement.
"My dear Brother Tong, have you drawn your lot yet? Which arena are you in?" Zhang Chulan, having just retrieved his own lot—marked "Yi: Ink Serpent"—quickly squeezed through the crowd to Wu Tong's side, grinning as he asked.
Wu Tong glanced at the number in his hand and replied casually, "I have. Arena Jia: Flower Deer."
"Thank goodness we're not in the same group," Zhang Chulan sighed in relief.
Wu Tong chuckled. "You seem a bit too happy. Aren't you going to ask the others? What if someone else is in your arena? Do you really think you can take them on?"
"Of course not! I'm not that confident. I just haven't had the chance to ask yet. I'll go do that now," Zhang Chulan hastily denied, shaking his head. He knew full well that even if the others were here to help him, winning wouldn't come without a price.
Moreover, the participants weren't just limited to their group. There were also troublemakers like Xing, Ah Huan, and the White-Clothed Minister, who might not stick to the plan.
After confirming Wu Tong's match details, Zhang Chulan bid him farewell and hurried off to question the others—particularly the group that had been dubbed the "Most Accurate COSPLAY Squad" by the attending Outcasts.
Wu Tong watched Zhang Chulan's retreating figure with an amused shake of his head.
Arena Jia...
Looks like I'll be up soon.
His gaze drifted to the first of the four training grounds on the left, anticipation gleaming in his eyes. He wondered if any of his opponents would be participants brought by group members from other worlds.
The four arenas were labeled, from left to right: Jia, Yi, Bing, and Ding. Wu Tong's lot, "Jia: Flower Deer," meant he would compete in the first arena.
This was only the first round of eliminations, a four-way free-for-all designed to weed out the weaker competitors and leave only the most skilled for the subsequent one-on-one matches.
Wu Tong was curious about the first round but didn't hold high expectations. With hundreds of participants, the odds of encountering two of the fifteen group members in the same arena were slim.
As he pondered, a clear and cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Are you the legendary Wu Tong?"
Wu Tong looked around, puzzled.
Huh?
No one's here...
Where's that voice coming from?
Before he could finish his thought, the voice spoke again, this time with a hint of exasperation.
"Look down here! I might be a bit short, but your reaction is downright insulting."
Wu Tong finally glanced downward and saw a white-haired boy in sportswear staring up at him with a sulky expression, clearly wounded by Wu Tong's earlier oversight.
Wu Tong studied the boy silently.
About fifteen or sixteen, sporty outfit, friendly demeanor, and white hair...
Hmm, I think I know who this is.
"Yes, I'm Wu Tong. And you are...?" Wu Tong answered, though he already had a guess.
"Ah, sorry! I forgot to introduce myself," the boy said, scratching his head with a somewhat goofy smile. "I'm Feng Xingtong, son of Feng Zhenghao—leader of the Tianxia Hui and one of the Ten Legends. You can just call me Xingtong."
Just as I thought—Feng Xingtong.
In the original story, this kid had suffered at the hands of Wang Bing, who stole his ancestor's spirit using the "Spirit Manipulation" technique. The memory of that injustice still stirred Wu Tong's anger.
Come to think of it, that's probably why I've always disliked Wang Bing.
Suppressing his thoughts, Wu Tong feigned surprise and asked, "Xingtong, what did you mean by 'legendary'? Am I really that famous already?"
He touched his face theatrically, unable to fathom how he'd become a legend when this was only his second visit to this world. Sure, he was handsome, but still...
Feng Xingtong's eyes sparkled with admiration. "Brother Tong, you don't know? Over a month ago, when you and Zhang Chulan came to Longhu Shan, you were ambushed by Quanxing members over thirty times, right? Word has it you took care of all of them single-handedly!"
"After you ascended the mountain, you never came back down, but your deeds have been circulating throughout the Outcast world. You've gained quite a following!"
He paused, then added with a grin, "Oh, and by the way, you've even earned a nickname in the Outcast community. Have you heard it?"
Wu Tong finally recalled his previous visit to this world a month ago. Back then, he hadn't been as strong as he was now, and those thirty-plus ambushes by Quanxing had nearly cost him dearly.
Heh, I almost forgot about Quanxing.
A cold smirk curled on Wu Tong's lips as his killing intent toward the Quanxing members participating in the Luotian Grand Ritual began to rise.
Originally, he hadn't planned to target Quanxing, but now it seemed necessary to eradicate this heretical organization—for the sake of peace in the Outcast world, of course.
Wu Tong: Vengeful, petty, and utterly unapologetic about it.
But Feng Xingtong's mention of a nickname quickly pulled his attention back.
(End of Chapter)