Chapter 3800 — The Trick Backfired
The Blossom Guardian · Page 2 of 3
And what baffled him even more was this: Qiao Hongcai had plainly been badly hurt, yet in a mere three days he was now as lively as a dragon in spring, exactly like Meng Zhou after taking his fourth-grade Great Restoration Pill. How in the hell had he managed that?
With the paltry resources of Wei Zhao and his lot, there was simply no way they could produce a rare elixir like the fourth-grade Great Restoration Pill!
Could it be Lu Bianren? Yes—when he thought about it, only Lu Bianren, that third pavilion master, had the means to get his hands on a fourth-grade Great Restoration Pill! Damn it all. Wait till I rise to power and see how I deal with you, you meddling old fool!
While Meng Jueming was nursing his grudge against Lu Bianren, Qiao Hongcai on the platform answered Meng Zhou with a cold laugh: "The pot calling the kettle black. We are both men of the same trade. What face have you got to call me despicable?"
Meng Zhou was instantly left without a word to say. If he himself had been putting on an act, what was so strange about Qiao Hongcai, harboring the very same design, putting one on too—repaying him in his own coin?
After a long pause, Meng Zhou finally snorted coldly: "Hmph! Fine. Since the game is up, there's no point in hiding anything anymore. I'll crush you fair and square with my true strength, and let you see, you worthless trash, just how wide the gap between us really is!"
Qiao Hongcai burst out laughing. "Your schemes and tricks are all laid bare, and only now do you talk of fair and square? Senior Newcomer Meng, that thick hide of yours—did you learn it from a certain cousin of yours?"
At those words, the crowd below the platform struggled to stifle their laughter. That "certain cousin" Qiao Hongcai spoke of was none other than Meng Jueming—he was cursing Meng Jueming's brazenness in a roundabout way!
Meng Jueming's face turned black as he listened. He knew full well that the bastard Qiao was insulting him in a roundabout way, yet he could not strike back. After all, the man had only referred to "a certain cousin" of Meng Zhou—not to him, "Cousin Number Nine." To speak up now would be to volunteer for the label, to slap his own face.
Fortunately, the awkwardness did not last long. On the platform, Meng Zhou answered for him with action, wasting no words—he simply conjured a thousandfold leg shadows and hurled himself straight at Qiao Hongcai.
Having fought each other to a mutual ruin in the previous round, both Meng Zhou and Qiao Hongcai already had a deep understanding of the other's strength. Where the other was strong and where weak was plain at a glance; there was nothing left to hide between them.
As the saying goes, your enemy is often the one who knows you best. In that sense, Meng Zhou's talk of fair and square had a certain logic to it: since each knew the other inside out, there was no room left for concealment, no opening left to spring a trap.
The only choice before them now was to bring out their strongest and grind each other down all over again.
The duel that followed once again showed everyone present what cruelty and ferocity truly meant. Qiao Hongcai had no sooner taken a Twenty-First Form of the Thousand Legs than Meng Zhou was immediately made to pay back a Twenty-First Form of the Iron Cold Palm in kind.
Spitting blood was the least of it. After a few exchanges, the fight played out exactly as it had the round before: after several bloody clashes, both men collapsed to the ground together, unable to move.
And this time their injuries were even graver than in the previous round. To think of rising again was pure fantasy; to cling to a single breath and not drop dead was already proof of how remarkably strong both their wills were.
At the sight of this all-too-familiar, identical scene, the whole assembly was struck dumb, mouths agape: "Are these two's strengths really so evenly matched? Two fights in a row, and both end in mutual ruin?"