Volume One: The Lonely Beta Test Chapter 24: The Selection Tournament (Part Two)

“My lord, look at the man in position ten—he’s already won four matches in a row. He seems to have spent a great deal of energy. I wonder if he can hold out in the next round?” Han Dang pointed to the man in the arena as he spoke.

“I believe he’ll make it through the next match,” Lin Feng replied loudly, full of confidence. Yet, deep down, he wasn’t so sure at all; his words were meant only to encourage the man in the arena. To this moment, no one had managed to win five consecutive matches—the best so far had only reached three victories. Now, more than ever, Lin Feng needed capable men, so naturally he hoped that a strong contender would emerge.

By now, the sun was slanting sharply toward the west, and the fierce competition was nearing its end. Lin Feng had originally expected the final results to take more than two days, but the actual time needed had far outstripped his predictions. This was because everyone had earnestly followed a certain someone’s highest directive: “Fight till you sweat and bleed.”

The matches were intense. If Lin Feng hadn’t repeatedly emphasized restraint, warning that they would be setting out in two or three days, someone might have truly been injured or bloodied. As a result, few people used up all ten challenges: most were exhausted after three or four bouts and couldn’t return to the ring. Some collapsed after a single match.

Now, only one spot remained out of twelve; the other eleven had already been decided. All eyes were fixed on the man at position ten, who sat catching his breath with his eyes closed. Judging by his current state, few believed he could win another match.

When the rest time ended, the man stood and called out, “Is there any brother among you who would come forward and give me guidance?” His voice was not loud, but there was a commanding air to it.

“Not bad at all!” Lin Feng nodded heavily, clearly impressed. “Uncle Han, in such a situation, most men would pray for no more challengers, content to secure the final spot as they are. But this man, with little energy left, dares to issue a challenge. First, it shows he is confident in himself, a man of great perseverance. Second, he follows the rules, not wanting to invite idle gossip—he is upright and open. After this match, win or lose, he is someone we should cultivate in the future.”

“Yes, my lord!” Han Dang answered, his gaze fixed on the man as if he were admiring a beauty.

Outside the arena, although there was much discussion about the man’s challenge, no one stepped forward for some time. At last, someone spoke up: “Brother Huang, you have already won four matches. Everyone has witnessed your skill and admires you. Besides, you must be nearly spent. We don’t want to take advantage of your exhaustion.”

The others nodded, agreeing with his words and acknowledging the man’s strength. The man called Huang cupped his fist and saluted Lin Feng. “My lord, as you said, only by winning five matches in a row can one advance directly. I ask everyone to let me finish what I started.”

At this, Lin Feng spoke as well: “Brother Huang is a true man. Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge him, to give him his final test?”

No sooner had Lin Feng spoken than a man of short but sturdy build—his arms nearly half again as thick as most—stepped out, cupped his hands and said, “My lord, I have already fought seven times and lost, and I am still not content. But Brother Huang is exhausted now—if I challenge him and win, it would not be an honorable victory.”

“No matter,” Lin Feng replied. “We all act according to the rules. You have fought seven matches yourself; though you’ve rested a bit, you can’t have recovered much strength either. It’s fair to both sides. What do you say, Brother Huang?”

Lin Feng had already considered the flaws in this form of competition; for example, the man before him had fought seven times without injury, showing considerable strength. Yet, due to the rules and a bit of bad luck, he had met stronger opponents and lost. Clearly, time must be set aside later to devise better rules, so that no capable man is left unrecognized due to mere chance.

Huang cupped his fist and said, “As my lord commands, I have no objection.” Then, turning to his challenger: “Brother Zhou Shun, do your utmost—hold nothing back, or else my victory would not be honorable!”

“Very well, Brother Huang, you are indeed upright. I admire you. Let us both do our best!” With that, he stepped into the arena, saluted Huang, and took his position.

Lin Zhen nodded to Lin Feng, “My lord, Brother Zhou Shun is a fine man as well.”

“Yes, indeed,” Lin Feng replied, feeling deeply moved by the honesty and sense of honor among these men. In the society he’d lived in before, civilization was a mere façade, and morality had decayed. The relentless pursuit of material gain had eroded the moral baseline time and again. So many people’s kind hands had been tied by deceit and extortion, to the point that people dared not even help an old man who’d fallen, let alone anything else.

It’s often said that people were more virtuous in the past; this comparison made Lin Feng deeply appreciate the worth of these ancient hearts. He almost felt it a blessing to have escaped to this time and place.

As Lin Feng’s thoughts drifted, the match between Huang and Zhou began. Zhou Shun crouched, fists clenched, and with a shout, launched himself at Huang like a hungry tiger. Despite Zhou’s ferocity, Huang did not dodge but quickly shifted his weight, left foot forward and right foot back in a bow stance, right fist at his waist, left hand half-curled before his chest, poised for action.

Both men had lost much of their strength and focus in the earlier rounds; now, they meant to settle the outcome in a single decisive move. As Zhou’s left fist neared Huang’s face, Huang suddenly twisted aside, raised his left hand to seize Zhou’s arm and pulled him back, while hooking Zhou’s left foot with his own. At the same time, his right fist turned into a palm and struck Zhou’s back.

Zhou realized at once that he had been careless, but it was too late. His feet left the ground, his strength spent, and he had no way to resist. With a thud, he sprawled on the ground. Luckily, Huang had pulled his punch and caught Zhou by the belt as he fell, lessening the force of the impact—otherwise, Zhou would have been seriously hurt.

It all happened in an instant—faster than lightning. Yet, the maneuver had cost Huang all his remaining strength, and as Zhou went down, Huang himself collapsed to the ground as well.

“Well done!” The outcome was clear, and everyone cheered for Huang’s brilliant move.

Lin Feng hurried into the arena to help them up. “Are you both hurt?” he asked anxiously.

“My lord, I… I’m all right. How is Brother Zhou?” Huang replied, panting.

“My lord, I’m fine, thanks to Brother Huang’s restraint,” Zhou Shun said, sitting up. He cupped his hands to Huang in gratitude and then to Lin Feng. “My lord, Brother Huang is both skilled and kind. I am wholeheartedly convinced.”

“My lord, Brother Zhou is a true man as well. I respect him greatly,” Huang echoed, saluting Lin Feng and returning Zhou’s gesture.

Lin Feng laughed. “So, you two would have me bending over, watching you sit on the ground exchanging courtesies? Is that it?” he teased, feigning sternness.

At his words, both men scrambled to their feet, saluted, and said, “Forgive us, my lord, for our lapse in manners—please punish us if you must!”

Seeing their caution, Lin Feng smiled. “You are both pillars of our Army of the Vanquishers. How could I punish you for such a trifle?”

Hearing this, the two men straightened, faces alight with pride. To be held in such esteem by their lord was an honor. Yet, while Huang was openly delighted, Zhou seemed less at ease—his joy faded, replaced by a look of disappointment and shame.

Lin Feng noticed this change and could guess at Zhou’s thoughts. “Brother Zhou, your arms are thicker than most men’s—I imagine you have great strength. What did you do before this?”

“My lord,” Zhou replied, “I am a fisherman, but I never use nets. I have always hunted fish with a spear. Years of this work have made my arms thick and strong.”

“Oh? Only a spear? How many fish can you catch in a trip?” Lin Feng was curious. Fishing with a spear—how many could one possibly catch in a day? Could a man feed his family like that? He remembered seeing fishermen with small boats hauling in perhaps a hundred or so pounds of fish with a net, most of them no bigger than a hand. And here, the fishing gear was even more primitive. How could anyone catch enough? With a spear, no less…

But Lin Feng was missing an important point—this was not his old world; this was the late Han Dynasty!

“My lord, my abilities are quite limited. I can only catch four or five fish at a time. Besides, my little boat can’t hold much more.” Zhou Shun answered honestly.

“Four or five? And you can’t fit any more?” Lin Feng was surprised but said nothing, only thinking to himself.

At that moment, Huang’s eyes widened. “My lord, Brother Zhou is no ordinary man. To spear four or five fish in a single trip—each fish big enough for the spear—means each must weigh at least forty or fifty pounds. That’s two or three hundred pounds in all. We who use nets rarely catch that much at once!”

“Damn, you people—Zhou Shun especially—never finish your sentences. Lucky I didn’t speak my thoughts aloud, or I would have made a fool of myself!” Lin Feng thought to himself.

He cleared his throat. “That is indeed impressive!” He gave Zhou Shun a thumbs-up. “Brother Zhou, your skill with the spear must be quite extraordinary!”

Zhou blushed at the compliment, replying shyly, “My lord flatters me. My humble skills are not worth mentioning.”

But Lin Feng could tell that, despite his modest words, a hint of pride flashed across Zhou’s face. This only piqued Lin Feng’s curiosity further. His instincts told him that Zhou Shun’s prowess with the spear was truly exceptional—perhaps he had just discovered another rare talent today.