Chapter 3788 — Scared Stupid?

The new recruits below the stage burst into laughter. For a straight-shooting blockhead like Qiao the Waste, managing a jab that roundabout was nothing short of overachieving.

"Yeah? You're the one with the stink-breath—your whole family's got stink-breath!" Meng Zhou was so furious his mouth twisted crooked. Had there not been a referee watching from the sidelines, he would have loved nothing more than to sweep Qiao Hongcai into a heap of garbage with a single kick.

The Xuanji Pavilion referee likewise had trouble keeping a straight face, and only after a pause did he announce, "Third round, first match of the Qingyun Pavilion Newcomer Challenge: Meng Zhou of Cave Dwelling No. 13 at the foot of the mountain challenges Qiao Hongcai of Cave Dwelling No. 12. Begin!"

The instant the words fell, Meng Zhou pushed his speed to its very limit and shot straight at Qiao Hongcai, giving him no chance to open his mouth and concede.

As a skilled early-Foundation-Establishment cultivator whose specialty was the Thousand Legs leg technique, Meng Zhou's speed ranked among the finest even at his level. To the Heaven-rank great-perfection newcomers of Qingyun Pavilion watching below, his footwork was simply impossible to follow with the naked eye, utterly impossible to defend against.

Quite a few newcomers swallowed hard. Though they generally held Meng Zhou's intelligence in contempt, the man's strength was genuinely formidable. Were they in Qiao Hongcai's position right now, defense would be out of the question—they would not even get the chance to beg for mercy. Most likely they would just be kicked to death on the spot.

And though Qiao Hongcai was a shade stronger than they were, that shade was thin indeed. Facing Meng Zhou's ferocity, he had no fate awaiting him but death.

"Thousand Legs, Form Twenty-One—go die!" Meng Zhou bellowed, driving his footwork to its utmost; his figure flickered and he was already before Qiao Hongcai.

Thousand Legs, Form Twenty-One—this was true early-Foundation-Establishment power. The qi upon his legs was biting cold, a thousand layered leg-shadows gleaming with frost; real and feigned blurred beyond telling. Though the challenge rules barred any weapon, the intimidation of this strike was in no way inferior to that of a divine blade.

Even the newcomers below, a full dozen or more zhang away, could not help holding their breath, their scalps prickling.

Yet to everyone's astonishment, in the face of Meng Zhou's ferocious Form Twenty-One, Qiao Hongcai did not shout surrender as all had expected. He did not even show the slightest intent to dodge—he simply stood there dead still, letting Meng Zhou's thousand leg-shadows envelop him completely.

One had to understand: once the Thousand Legs reached the twenty-first form, it was not only the real kick that carried unmatched lethality—even the illusions that seemed meant only to confuse packed no small killing power of their own!

They could not compare with that single fatal kick, true, but for a Heaven-rank great-perfection cultivator, being struck by those illusions would likewise leave one gravely wounded—and those with weaker defenses might well die outright!

"Don't tell me Qiao the Waste has been scared stupid? Why isn't he moving at all?" The newcomers below exchanged bewildered glances.

Even a cultivator with the poorest judgment could gauge the peril of the situation. Qiao Hongcai's present pose—solemn and motionless—was little different from lying down to die!

Had he been quicker on the uptake and bolted at the first instant, he might not have fully escaped Meng Zhou's thousand leg-shadows, but at least he could have minimized his injuries. That way, if he weathered this savage first wave, there might still be some hope of catching a breather—and some chance to get out the words "I yield"!

Grave wounds were unavoidable, but with effort, a sliver of survival might still be won.

Yet with the idiot-like display Qiao Hongcai was putting on now, survival was out of the question—once Meng Zhou's Form Twenty-One swept past, he was as good as dead. Leaving a whole corpse would be his eighteen generations of ancestors doing him a favor.

"Heh, now we can start preparing to collect Qiao the Waste's corpse. Let this be a lesson to you all—this is what comes of crossing Meng Jue Ming!" Meng Jue Ming glanced at Wei Zhao and the others with a cold smile, a surge of satisfaction rising in his heart.

Ever since Wei Zhao arrived at the Welcome Pavilion, he had time and again challenged Meng Jue Ming, the august senior steward—yet what left jaws on the floor was that Wei Zhao had never once truly come off worse. Apart from the occasional good jade swapped away for a piece of scrap, it was Wei Zhao who kept pulling off miracles and coming out ahead; the man had wrung out a name for himself on sheer stubbornness while Meng Jue Ming stood by helpless, his old face all but lost entirely.

But now, once Meng Zhou struck down Qiao Hongcai—Wei Zhao's little underling—on the spot and made an example of him, killing the chicken to warn the monkeys, everything would cease to be a problem!

When all was said and done, however capable Wei Zhao might be, he was nothing more than a newcomer. In strength and in influence, he was not on the same level as Meng Jue Ming at all. The only reason he had managed to create the impression of standing as an equal rival was purely that unbroken streak of miracles, blown up layer upon layer like a soap bubble, endlessly drawing eyes—and that was how he had climbed step by step to his present position as the Qingyun Pavilion newcomers' unspoken, generally acknowledged overlord!

But once that undefeated streak was cut short, the bubble would burst in an instant, and Wei Zhao, the newcomers' overlord, would be beaten back to his true form at once. The other newcomers would then discover that apart from being a newcomer like themselves—apart from being a touch stronger—the fellow was not worth a fart!

And seizing this rare opportunity of the challenge tournament to have Meng Zhou snuff out Qiao Hongcai directly was the perfect means of pricking that bubble. The more bloody and thunderous the method, the more it would strike terror into hearts!

Qiao Hongcai's head was neither too big nor too small—just the right size to be raised as a battle standard!

Yet what surprised Meng Jue Ming was that at this very moment, watching Qiao Hongcai about to meet his end on the stage, Wei Zhao and the others showed not the slightest worry. Judging by their relaxed, easy expressions, they seemed instead to have great confidence in Qiao Hongcai?

A mere Heaven-rank great-perfection cultivator, caught in Meng Zhou's Form Twenty-One—let alone surviving, he would not even leave a whole corpse—and they still had confidence in Qiao Hongcai? These idiots must have all been possessed!

Meanwhile, on the stage, Qiao Hongcai himself, facing the thousand leg-shadows that held him fast, finally began to move.

The crowd below immediately curled their lips in disdain. The fellow had only just reacted now? Was he not a bit too slow on the uptake?

Qiao the Waste was Qiao the Waste after all—that nickname was no empty boast!

Seeing his high point total earlier, they had thought that following Wei Zhao had improved his strength, that he was truly one of Qingyun's top five newcomers. Who would have guessed he was nothing but a lucky showpiece—waste is waste, and one should never dream of a comeback! (To be continued...)