Jiang Chen didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He couldn't understand where these sect disciples got their superiority complex from, or where their confidence came from.
This Cheng Zhen didn't have much more cultivation than his cousin. Yet the way he spoke, he acted as though he already had Jiang Chen cornered.
Jiang Chen raised his eyelids with a listless expression and asked flatly, "Sounds like you're threatening me?"
"That's right, I'm threatening you." Cheng Zhen sneered. "Secular martial artists should know their place. Since no one taught you how to behave in front of sect geniuses, I, Cheng, will do you the courtesy of teaching you — for free — how to keep your tail between your legs!"
Jiang Chen sighed lightly and shook his head. "What a pity."
"Pity? Pity about what?" Cheng Zhen's face reddened with fury.
"What a pity that the rules forbid private fights. Otherwise I could teach you right now that when you talk big, you'd better have the capital to back it up. Otherwise, a strong wind might just slip your tongue."
Cheng Zhen's face darkened, his expression turning ugly in an instant.
"You're incorrigible! Kid, so you're dead set on opposing me?"
Jiang Chen said coolly, "You're overthinking it. Opposing you? Are you even worth it?"
In truth, the Cheng brothers really weren't worth the effort of opposing.
As a sect disciple, Cheng Zhen had always been supremely arrogant — especially when facing secular martial artists, that sense of superiority was practically boundless.
In his eyes, the so-called secular geniuses were merely the tallest among a group of short people, utterly incapable of comparing to sect geniuses.
When facing secular geniuses, Cheng Zhen saw himself as a proud phoenix. Secular martial artists were nothing more than a flock of lowly chickens.
Lowly chickens should bow their heads meekly before a noble phoenix, should be completely submissive.
So when he heard Jiang Chen's words, Cheng Zhen felt like his lungs were about to explode. He himself was arrogant, but he had never imagined that this secular martial artist was even more arrogant than he was!
The fury in his chest was on the verge of erupting.
Just as both sides were locked in a tense standoff, a majestic shout suddenly rang out from the front of the Hundred-Battle Stage: "Time is up! All martial artists, cease your clamor! Presenting the Chief Examiner!"
The examiners had finally arrived.
With the examiners appearing, none of the martial artists dared to act rashly. The examiners were the ones who determined their fate and future.
Cheng Zhen shot Jiang Chen a vicious glare. "Kid, you got lucky. You'd better pray that you don't draw my name, and that I don't draw yours. Otherwise, I'll make sure you can't even walk off the stage on your own."
"Is that so? Then I really should thank you for letting me know how much force to use when I beat you." Jiang Chen shrugged with an indifferent expression.
Such idle threats, in Jiang Chen's eyes, were nothing more than the most boring kind of joke.
At the front of the Hundred-Battle Stage, the chief overseer of the Spirit Mystical District was a man surnamed Fang. On either side of him were about two hundred assisting examiners.
The Hundred-Battle Stage required recording victories and defeats, entering results — there was naturally a need for a great deal of manpower.
Lord Fang's bearing was commanding, and wherever his gaze fell, every martial artist sitting cross-legged rose to their feet. Not a single one dared remain seated on the ground.
Lord Fang's piercing gaze lingered on Jiang Chen and Cheng Zhen for a moment, leaving behind a meaningful look.
Then his gaze swept onward and turned elsewhere.
Cheng Zhen shrank back, feeling a chill run across his forehead as a surge of dread rose in his heart.
Had everything he just done been noticed by Lord Fang?
Jiang Chen, on the other hand, was perfectly composed. Everything that had happened had been provoked by Cheng Zhen. He had a clear conscience. If this overseer chose to side with the sect disciple, Jiang Chen would face it without fear.
But from the look of things, Lord Fang didn't seem inclined to take anyone's side. He didn't even appear to intend to intervene.
"Time is about up. From now on, the Challenge Tournament begins. The list of challengers will be selected at random by us — there is no particular order. The first one hundred selected will step onto the Hundred-Battle Stage."
It didn't matter a martial artist's rank or their position — who went first was entirely determined by random selection. This way, cheating could be avoided.
"Remember: winners in the Challenge Tournament may continue to issue challenges today. In theory, there is no limit on challengers — within a single day, you may keep issuing challenges until you are defeated or until you choose to stop. Those who fail in a challenge lose their qualification to issue further challenges for the day."
"Those who fail a challenge must leave the Hundred-Battle Stage. The vacated stages will be filled by randomly selecting others to continue challenging."
This Challenge Tournament only recorded the challengers' results. As for those being challenged, they had to leave the Hundred-Battle Stage regardless of whether they won or lost.
Jiang Chen had to admit — the intensity of this Challenge Tournament was formidable. If someone had just been challenged in one round, they might be randomly selected to challenge someone else in the next, forcing them to fight two consecutive battles.
However, as a challenger, if you kept winning, theoretically you could keep challenging indefinitely.
This was extremely advantageous for those with overwhelming strength. Grade-A martial artists, in particular, if they possessed a decisive advantage, could easily fight several battles in a row within a single day.
For a moment, Jiang Chen found himself rather looking forward to it.